A Gattaca-like world, in which parents became accustomed to specifying the sex and genetic traits of their children, would be a world inhospitable to the unbidden, a gated community writ large.
The awareness that our talents and abilities are not wholly our own doing restrains our tendency toward hubris. If bio-engineering made the myth of the “self-made man” come true, it would be difficult to view our talents as gifts for which we are indebted rather than as achievements for which we are responsible.
The genome seethes with extragenetic inherited mechanisms, environmentally altered chemical switches. The gene-centric view looks increasingly like the domain of fifty-seven-year-olds still in the grip of obsolete paradigms. Nurture can directly affect germ cells. Old-style gene-association studies like Kurton's may be not even irrelevant. Temperament may be in the water, food, and air, as much as in the chromosomes...
They're a private company after all, accountable to no one but their investors. Write off the loss, manage the resulting publicity, and stake a new claim.
If Jen truly is without sadness, then she's missing out on something profound, mysterious, and essentially human. That's my feeling, and I'll go on saying as much, at least until I get the Paxil tuned...
The secret of happiness is meaningful work.
The process [IVF] is nothing now, and the real show is only getting started... Tonia Schiff will bet her return ticket that some billionaire, somewhere, is already paying to have his offspring screened for good traits.
Everyone alive should feel richly content, ridiculously ahead of the game, a million times luckier than the unborn... [But] she says she'd never presume to say how happy anyone else might be.
"They're after me!" ...-"Who?" "Very Christian people with too much free time."
He's weakened by his recent bout with joy. Joy does little to increase one's judgment.
Oona has always insisted that anyone can escape any fate by a daily application of near-religious will.
A predisposition to disposition: it's exactly the kind of fatalism [Oona] is determined not to be determined by.
His message: We're incapable of predicting what will make us happy. Consequently, it's best to stay loose and keep revising the plan. Socialize, volunteer, listen to music, and get out of the house. The man's witty pragmatism makes Russell want to bunker down with the shades pulled.
Is knowing my happiness quotient going to make me any happier?
...another twenty years of grace before the species splits into Ordinary and Enhanced.
Why are you looking for our spirits in molecules?
Candace Weld sat and watched as the future stripped her of meaningful work.
...fiction's perpetual mistaking of correlation for causation drives Kurton nuts. Even Camus can't help deploying bits of his characters' histories as if they explained all subsequent behaviors and beliefs. The trick smacks of an environmental determinism more reductive than anything that has ever come out of Kurton's labs. My upbringing made me do it...
...choices are coming that we all simply have to hammer out.
...this is when the story is at its most desperate: when techne and sophia are still kin, when the distant climax is still ambiguous, the outcome a dead heat between salvation and ruin.
I think I must sell these eggs of mine.... you don't believe my genes are key to anything... The more they pay for this, the happier it will make them... So you do think these genes are the secret real me!
Also of interest: