Cyber-Dystopia: Feed by M. T. Anderson

M.T. Anderson's novel Feed has been called "a brilliantly ironic satire," "chilling," and a "satiric cautionary tale," and it is all of that and more.

Set in the not-too-distant future, Titus and his teen aged friends live in a society in which the Earth is dying, in which toxins create skin lesions which teenagers turn into fashion statements. Infants are custom-made, as was Titus, ordered to look like a movie actor, in the conceptarium and implanted early with the "feed," a chip which functions as a combination search engine (so that kids no longer need learn anything except how to maximize use of the feed), entertainment shows, games, and constant banner advertising tailored to the "individual," a type which the Feed determines from his or her purchasing history. People no longer need to talk, because the feed provides "Chat," a kind of instant messaging available any time, anywhere, which can also be cached and accessed later like stored email.

Into Titus' unsatisfying life comes Violet, whom he meets when he spends a boring spring break on the moon with his vapid but restless friends. Violet, whose feed was installed only after she was seven years old, questions the consumer dystopia in which they live and longs for experiences which touch reality. When a anti-feed terrorist hacks into their feeds on the dance floor, Titus and Violet lose consciousness and awake to find themselves offline, disconnected temporarily from their feed while technicians decrypt them:

The first thing I found was no credit.

I tried to touch my credit, but there was nothing there.

It felt like I was in a little room.

My body--I was in a bed, on top of my arm, which was asleep, but I didn't know where. I couldn't find the Lunar GPS to tell me.

Someone had left a message in my head, which I found, and then kept finding everywhere I went, which said that there was no trasmission signal, that I was currently disconnected from feednet.

So I opened my eyes.

During their time offline, Titus and Violet are driven to talk, to look into each other's eyes when they do, and share a kiss. But when doctors and technicians reconnect their feeds, Violet begins to experience neurological symptoms, transient loss of sensation in her arms or legs, interruptions in transmission, and eventually learns that she will slowly lose function and die unless she can find a corporate sponsor to fund the necessary repairs to her feed, now out of warranty. As she falls and lies partly paralyzed, Violet gets the chat message from FeedTech's perky rep, Nina:

"We're sorry, Violet Durn, Unfortunately, FeedTech and other investors reviewed your purchasing history, and we don't feel that you would be a reliable investment at this time. No one could get what we call a 'handle' on your shopping habits, like for example, you asking for information about all those wow and brag products and then never buying anything."

"Maybe, Violet, if we check out some of the great bargains available to you through the feednet over the next six months, we might be able to create a consumer portrait of you that would interest our investment team. Now, how 'bout it, Violet Durn? Just us, you and me--girls together! Shop till you stop and drop."

When she turns to Titus to help her find the experiences that will soon be lost to her, he lacks the strength and depth to help her. Only when she cannot move or communicate does he find the will to tell her what she has taught him.

"It's about the feed," I said. "It's about this meg normal guy, who doesn't think about anything until one wacky day, when he meets a dissident with a heart of gold," I said. "Set against the backdrop of America in its final days, it's the high-spirited story of their love together; it's laugh-out-loud funny, really heartwarming, and a visual feast." I picked up her hand and held it to my lips. I whispered to her fingers. "Together, the two crazy kids grow, have madcap escapades, and learn an important lesson about love. They learn to resist the feed. Rated PG-13. For language," I whispered, "and mild sexual situations."

I could see my face, crying, in her blank eye.

Anderson's theme? Resist the feed. Keep Google at our fingertips, not inside our heads.