The only Kurt Vonnegut I ever got introduced to at school was Harrison Bergeron, a short story about physically enforced equality. My grandparents furthered my reading of his with his short story collection Armageddon In Retrospect. And over the years I’ve slowly picked up his novels in the most insane ordering I can think of. But with all the hubbub around AI, automation, and the general lack of enthusiasm around working for others, I decided I’d finally dig into Player Piano, a story that darkly embraces so many of these ideas and tries to laugh into the abyss that is our present.
Paul Proteus could have it better, if he only applied himself. Head of the famous Ilium plant, he carries his father’s name like a bindle, a small burden he’d rather keep away from his body. His favorite tinkerer just got sacked for automating himself out of a job, and an old friend who went the government route is back in town on a rebellious bender. As his wife seems to be spending more time with a more ambitious rival, Paul can’t help but wonder if the engineers and managers who have automated the economy are endangering the human soul. So when his in-town friend starts dropping hints that Paul just might be the guy who can turn this all around, he leaps at the chance to redirect his life and do something for once.
Reading Player Piano was an absolute fever dream during the AI hype. For context, this book was written in 1952 during the Korean Police Action (better known as the Korean War). It posits an America wherein another war required so much manpower that engineers and managers were able to produce a near fully automated economy. The families in manufacturing that were able to capitalize on these advances became a part of a larger consortium that manages the economy. Paul just so happens to be one of these engineers who help introduce automated machines into his father’s factory and rise to be the chief engineer of his region. Those without jobs are subsidized by the government, living not quite in squalor, but without purpose and without the benefits of those who have jobs. Oh, and if you have a job, it’s probably because you have a doctorate or two – even in real estate.
If you’ve never read Vonnegut, he has a dry, dark, and somewhat whimsical sense of humor. His prose doesn’t lead you on and trusts that you get the tiny jokes that are laden throughout. It’s not about setting up a punchline as much as it feels like he’s going “get a load of this shit,” every time he pushes the envelope a little further. It feels like the friend who has a nightmare, recognizes the humor within upon reflection, and then tries to write a horrifically funny story about their anxiety to cope. It’s not quite fourth-wall breaking because it’s not like Vonnegut throws in a record scratch to point out the joke, but it just has that casual conversation vibe that feels like you’re reading someone riffing. But don’t let those small dry jokes fool you, he can set up dramatic irony for the long run as well, and do those moments pay off.
Where the book feels important to bring up today is just the general feeling that we don’t really have much of a role within the economy beyond being a consumer, and even that is being reconsidered as people in power begin to question, “What are you all for anyway?” Paul, despite being in a good position, with the ability to get even further ahead if he just played along, is listless. He wants something more out of life than striving for the next promotion, or buying the next fancy thing, or mucking it up with men he has to be buddy-buddy with while politicking at the same time. I feel for his plight. But he’s also a man separated from the average person’s miserable lot. He goes to get drinks on the other side of the river and feels constantly watched and aware that he does not belong. He buys an old farmhouse so he and his wife can “live like they used to.” But even that holds little allure once he finds out how hard it is to do everything manually.
Something that Vonnegut always plays around with in his novels is a sort of spiritual mysticism. I say it like that because he often has a spiritual leader from some non-descript, non-westernized country that questions everything going on. I’m sure many people smarter than I have dug into the usefulness and brought about proper critiques on these characters, so I’ll just say, yeah, as an adult, they feel off in this day and age. But in Player Piano, this character serves as a sort of laser pointer to highlight the themes. It’s a little obtuse, but it’s carried out in extremely funny ways. This “shah” doesn’t speak English, and walks around with a translator. Early on, the audience is made aware of the meaning of certain words, one in particular which means slave. As the shah is on tour, being shown the wonders of the automated economy, he encounters people of all walks of life, learning about the ways that they live. He keeps trying to offer advice to people, calling them slaves, while the interpreter has to assure everyone he’s calling them citizens as he grows increasingly exuberant about telling them to essentially break their chains. It led to more than a few darkly comedic interactions that had me reeling as they felt like the dark claws of the past tapping me on the shoulder, letting me know they’ve arrived.
Considering Luddism is back on the menu, Player Piano is a good modern Luddite story. It isn’t just about smashing the system and regaining all our jobs back. I can’t believe I’m going to put it like this, but it follows the proper logic of “not all machines.” Paul, and the other members of the movement he eventually gets sucked into, posit that there should be some choice in what should get automated, and what should be done manually because it’s good for the soul. Player Piano doesn’t presume to determine what is and isn’t good universally and leaves it to the individual and society to debate it. But it’s important to make that distinction because no one should really want to go back to a primitive state where medicine no longer exists, and that certain tedious and menial tasks can be handled by some machine. We shouldn’t have automation forced on us as dictated by the needs of capital and the search for profit. It should be something determined by society as technology is social, not just some objective tool. It can be used to enforce certain values and structures, structures that provided for the body in the most base ways, while siphoning on the souls of those within, whether or not they benefit greatly.
Player Piano is prescient because it captures the feelings better than it captures the exact future it posits. People want to create the future within it, but without really thinking about what it means. Or there are people who know exactly what it means and want it anyway. It’s a practical and rational future that turns people into the cogs and flywheels we don’t want taking our jobs. It leaves no room for the individual beyond what sorts of cultural products we choose to consume be it tv, books, podcasts, clothing, or food. And we just have to accept it. Because it’s the only way forward. Don’t you want progress, Luddite?
Rating: Player Piano – Lets dance to a different tune.
-Alex
