Autonomy versus Ownership: Commercialization of Humanity in Kazuo Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun and Ian McEwan's Machines Like Me
[Originally written in early 2024 and handed in on 28-03-2024 as a term paper for a university seminar on posthumanist literature. At the time, I wanted to expand this topic into a master's thesis, but due to a combination of different personal reasons I never ended up writing that thesis. I was quite happy with this paper, and Klara and the Sun happens to be one of my favourite novels since having read it for the seminar. This lead me to decide to republish this paper here on my personal blog on 19-11-2025]
Introduction
Computer technology has been progressing at a rapid pace. Some of the most impactful new additions to everyone's daily lives in the past 50 years have been the internet and the smartphone, which radically altered everything from communication, social dynamics, relationships, media consumption, and all industries connected to that. In both household and industry, too, technological advancements represent an ever increasing productivity and comfort, as many previously difficult and time-consuming tasks are simplified. However, already for much longer than that, a much bigger idea has been in the cultural consciousness that surely will be the next big technological revolution: Fully artificial humans. While already a staple of science fiction writers and philosophical debate for many decades, recent developments in AI technology have certainly brought a lot of motion into this field. Although the presently available tools have brought much controversy, such as concerns about automated plagiarism, large scale data scraping, the unsupervised dissemination of false information, or a devaluation of already undervalued creatives like writers, musicians and artists, all this fuss surely promises that this life changing technological revolution is just around the corner. The currently most prominent subjects of discussion exist solely as shapeless computer programs, but combining forces with the also very prolific field of robotics can bring humanity ever closer to the age of fully conscious androids. In those companies, one may see either entities that bring humanity past new frontiers of technological development or inflate the impact and application of their questionable technologies as a marketing tool. Regardless of one's point of view, another ethical conflict that comes with the structural circumstances of the capitalistic profit motive: If the industry were to truly succeed in creating a brand new person from scratch, what does this say about the relationship between the creator and the creature? If a company were to manufacture a person, that makes that person their product, and as a company, they would want to make a profit, and therefore sell their product to consumers. The recent novels Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro and Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan both revolve around such an artificial human and explore the contradiction between their autonomous, intelligent consciousness and their status as a product in different ways and highlight the dangers of not just paradigm-shifting new technologies, but also of commercialization within interpersonal relationships and services.
Selling Klara
Kazuo Ishiguro's 2021 novel Klara and the Sun is told from the very limited first person perspective of the titular character Klara that reveals very little about the world of the narrative directly to the reader, as everything is filtered through the interpretation of the titular character's experiences. While the novel is never specific about Klara's technical specifications, she is consistently referred to as an artificial friend, or AF, a designation that her own self-understanding corroborates. As an AF, Klara knows that it is her task to provide companionship to a child who will eventually choose her. The narrative begins without any form of exposition and jumps straight into the experiences of Klara, giving the reader only contextual clues of the setting and characters they are faced with. However, already in the second paragraph, it is revealed that Klara is located "mid-store" (Ishiguro 1), where she is on display for potential customers to purchase. While Ishiguro's style of narration and worldbuilding heavily utilises the limited perspective of the character, only revealing just enough about the world as is necessary for the protagonist to know, the novel is immediately very explicit about the titular character's status as a commodity. This is highlighted through the character's awareness of customers just one paragraph later, for whom they have to follow specific rules of behaviour, which are revealed throughout several interactions throughout the first chapter. Klara recalls the manager's instructions for customers who do show interest in them: "We put on 'neutral' smiles and fixed our gazes across the street [...]. Manager had explained that it was highly vulgar to make eye contact at such a moment" (7). These instructions put the AFs into a presentation mode, during which they are essentially tasked to conceal their humanity and pose as the mere product they are advertised to be, in a way that likens them to action figures sealed in plastic in a toy store. The concealment of humanity during moments of potential customer interest is very telling, as it may be the first instance of this central conflict being made explicit in the novel. Allowing the AFs to interact and engage with their environment on their own in sight of customers no longer makes them easily identifiable as a product on display and instead would force the customer into the emotionally difficult situation to grapple with the fact that they are considering purchasing what could then easily be recognized as a person. This display mode sanitises this troublesome implication for the ease of mind for the customer, and is only broken out of if "a passer-by signalled to us, or spoke to us" (7), to make them appear as a passive household item that fulfil its tasks only when asked, not unlike a kitchen appliance or a vacuum cleaner.
Such misconceptions about the nature of AFs are more common across the novel, and in fact, even the vacuum cleaner comparison is used verbatim later in the novel, in an interaction between Klara and Miss Helen, the mother of an acquaintance she makes later on when she is purchased into a household by Josie and her mother Chrissie. Helen says to Klara "one never knows how to greet a guest like you. After all, are you a guest at all? Or do I treat you like a vacuum cleaner?", recognises the potential social blunder, and follows it up with "I suppose I did as much just now. I'm sorry" (Ishiguro 145). Helen admits her own uncertainty about the personhood of her conversation partner, but then realises the dehumanising effect that this admission may have on Klara, and quickly apologises. Helen, although intuitively seeing Klara as a product, is clearly aware of the ethical difficulty of the treatment of AFs and corrects herself. However, many are not as self-aware. Back during Klara's time in the store, technical faults of specific AF models are discussed openly right in front of them as if they were not present (4), and most notably, during a later meeting that Josie has with various acquaintances of her age, Klara is very much treated like a toy, as the adolescents are speaking of "throwing her" to "test her coordination" (75). While it may be more excusable for individuals with little to no personal experience with AFs, like Helen or customers in the store, to misjudge their personhood and treat them as mere objects, this interaction shows that also Josie's acquaintances, many of whom mention owning AFs themselves, may actually be the most direct source of dehumanisation after all.
Even when not met with explicit hostility, many characters throughout the novel display a clear reluctant coldness or even discomfort with Klara, such as the family's housekeeper Melania (Ishiguro 49), Josie's friend and love interest Rick (60), and her divorced father, Paul (189). Particularly in the case of Rick and Paul though, they seem to overcome this initial reluctance after a couple of interactions and even seem to grow quite fond of Klara, as Paul apologises for his behaviour (216) and Rick comes to Klara's rescue at the meeting, moving the attention away from Klara onto himself (79), forming the basis of later acts of solidarity. Only Melania still shows hostility towards Klara after a longer period of time, expressing that she creeps her out (114). However, even she recognises that she has the same interest of working towards Josie's wellbeing and is willing to collaborate with Klara towards that goal, stating "we same side" (177), despite the objectifying threat "You make things worse, I fuck come dismantle you" (178). The initial aversion to Klara suggests an unfamiliarity with AFs more in general, which could point to the technology of AFs being a novelty in the depicted society and that many, even if unconsciously, have conflicted feelings about the potential personhood of the technological commodities that now are part of their lives, and are therefore trying to not engage. Therefore, the novel shows two different kinds of dehumanisation that Klara faces, one stemming from overfamiliarity and one from lack of familiarity. The younger generation, the adolescent acquaintances of Klara, are quick to adapt and have likely lived with their respective AFs for quite some time and see them as a normal part of their lives, similar to the concept of a digital native in the real 21st century, and are therefore taking their service and support for granted. The adults, in return, see this is a radical alteration to their reality they know and are perhaps even more aware of the troubling ethical implications of AF ownership and are therefore expressing discomfort. The obvious exception to this is Rick, who, despite him also being adolescent, displays similar reactions to the adults. This can be explained through Rick's living situation and upbringing being much different than the others, living largely without many of the new norms that the novel reveals. Rick, for once, lives, like Josie, with his mother in the countryside far outside the city but is economically in a noticeably worse position. Most importantly though, Rick is not lifted, which is a type of genetic engineering that is not explained in any more detail, but that all other children in the novel have gone through, including Josie. All this suggests a more old-fashioned upbringing, leading him to a reaction to Klara more like the other adults. However, Rick's negative reaction can also be attributed to him interpreting Klara as a betrayal to his and Josie's relationship, as one of the first things he says is "You said you'd never get one" when introduced to Klara (60).
On a more positive note, in many instances of the novel, Klara's wishes are clearly recognized, especially by Josie, who regularly asks for her consent and desires. Right in their first interaction in the store, Josie says "I don't want you coming against your will" (Ishiguro 26), later, she asks her mother "Do you mind if Klara and I go up to my room for a minute? Klara just loves to watch the sunset" (53), and she even, during a period of sickness, worries that her condition may negatively impact Klara, asking "It must be dull, right? Living here with a sick kid." (136). Her mother, too, asks if Klara is happy in their home (89) and even the initially distant father Paul eventually collaborates with Klara on her plan to destroy the Cootings Machine (221), therefore the novel clearly shows moments where Klara is treated as a person and people surrounding her are able to build a relationship and recognize her humanity. However, those moments appear to require a certain amount of time for acquaintance to develop for most characters, as most encounters Klara has are brief and are largely defined by dismissiveness. As Jakob Stenseke, who discusses the moral considerations of AFs, points out: "For those who frequently interact with Klara [...], their view of and relationship to Klara is based on a great number of interactions. But others, who do not know Klara or what she is capable of, might instead base their view of Klara on their understanding of robots and artificial systems in general, and how they have learned to relate to such entities" (Stenseke 11). Nonetheless, the usually very caring Josie is shown to have her behaviour towards Klara change when surrounded by peers, as she does not intervene nor even comment on them wanting to throw Klara. When they then question her abilities, she at first makes mild attempts at countering them and defending Klara, but eventually reluctantly goes along with their teasing and admits "now I'm starting to think I should have" when asked about why she did not get a newer model of AF (77), essentially using Klara as a shield to protect her own social standing. The behaviour of Josie and her peers and the tendency of other characters to display initial hostility before becoming more closely acquainted implies a strong normalisation of objectified treatment of artificial humans.
The aforementioned scene is a good example of how AFs are seen as a status symbol, similar to how one would consider perhaps an expensive car, a high-end smartphone, or fashionable designer clothes. It is not enough to merely have an AF that fulfils its desired role satisfactorily, but instead they are subject to the constant race after novelty and technological advancement that quickly leaves existing AFs in a position where they are outdated and obsolete in the competition with newer models. Klara herself is an AF of the B2 line, and although the store manager assures customers that this line "some say has never been surpassed" (Ishiguro 42), it is clear that Klara finds herself in constant competition with the newer B3 line of AFs, as not only Josie's peers enact this pressure on her, but also her environment in the store is a constant reminder that she herself is outdated before she even has had the chance to be bought. Customers are discussing the technological faults of her B2 line openly in front of the AFs (4), B3s are displayed in the store and are quickly bought (35), and customers express excitement about the brand new models for sale (31). Klara is even aware that she herself may be cause of obsoletion anxiety in older AFs she observes looking out of the store window, coming to the conclusion that "they were afraid because we were new models, and they feared that before long their children would decide it was time to have them thrown away, to be replaced by AFs like us" (15). With this, Ishiguro creates a strong sense of a society of consumption and disposability, as from the supposedly short time of Klara's beginnings in the store to her early days in Josie's house, originally a new model replacing older ones, eventually herself is being outdated and ridiculed. This reaches the extreme when at the end of the novel, Josie having grown up and no longer requiring the companionship, Klara first lives in a storage closet and is eventually disposed on a scrap yard, where she experiences her "slow fade", the AFs version of death, as Josie moves to college. This topic is explored more deeply in Adam Parkes' discussion of the theme of planned obsolescence in the novel, who states that "everything new is destined to grow old, but it also makes clear that the cycle itself simply enacts a mechanical species of repetition. Intimations of obsolescence turn into a routine." (Parkes 21).
Klara's own experience of her situation, however, is marked by a seemingly never ending enthusiasm for her duty and patience with the people she is tasked to accompany. Her loyalty to Josie begins even before purchase on their first interaction in the store and lasts with no exception until the end, where she is discarded. Although she has desires of her own, which are, as previously mentioned, acknowledged by Josie, Klara never brings them up unasked and is instead content with providing service and company to the people surrounding her. The only times she really acts without instruction is when she embarks on her quest to Mr. McBain's barn to her audition to the sun (Ishiguro 143), and later, requesting Paul to help her with the destruction of the Cootings machine (220). However, these actions are, once again, only in service to Josie's health and do not serve any self-interested purpose. In fact, Klara even goes so far as sacrificing her own P-E-G Nine solution, a fluid required for her own processing capabilities (226), which is shown to indeed have a negative effect later on, when her visual processing is shown to increasingly break down in busy areas (235). She is also shown to be very apologetic, eager to take blame for tensions and excuse behaviours of the people around her. Although questioning Melania's rudeness towards her, she ultimately ascribes it to her own misunderstanding (49), she apologises to Rick for potentially causing friction with her visit (155), and even accepts Josie's peer pressure induced comment about "starting to think [she] should have" gotten a B3 model (77), as she attributes it to her desire "keep back the threat of disharmony" and her own shortcomings as an outdated model (83). Klara's experience of emotions appears to be limited but exists nonetheless, as she occasionally expresses sadness (37) and fear (100). It is unclear whether she is incapable of acting more emotionally or if her dedication to her duty leaves her too focused to leave room for strong expressions of emotion, as both of these examples are during relative leisure time, while other situations that may also warrant a strong emotional response, Klara is very focused on fulfilling her role in the most productive way. Stenseke concludes that "her mind seems capable of evaluating states as positive and negative, which in turn helps her to understand their fundamental role in social interaction, in some strange way, her programming seems to prevent her from prioritizing her own subjective suffering in relation to others" (Stenseke 8). Nicole Brandstetter, however, also argues that Klara displays a particularly strong connection to human emotionality, as her primary assigned task is to aid Josie by providing interpersonal connection during a crucial time of development. Klara, in return, is disposed of on a scrap yard once his service is no longer needed: "The Other as Artificial Friend displays emotions, mythical belief and empathy, whereas humans are reduced to functionality" (Brandstetter 43), flipping the standard dichotomy of emotional humanity and cold, calculating robots on its head.
Since Ishiguro's entire novel is written from the perspective of Klara and therefore gives the reader insight into her rich inner life, complex thought processes and social understanding, it is difficult to interpret Klara as something else than an autonomous, intelligent, non-human person. Stenseke, after an in-depth discussion of the moral philosophy from various angles, also concludes that "Klara seems to satisfy all the essential criteria" of moral agency and "should have rights and liberties, be treated with respect, empathy, and care" (Stenseke 8). However, he ultimately complicates this reading by introducing a third person perspective, the perspective the other characters in the novel inhabit, that would have to come to this conclusion entirely through outside observation and experience (9). This means that, while it is true that Klara should enjoy the same ethical considerations as the people around her, this is a conclusion the reader can come to easily due to the privileged perspective of having insight into Klara herself. The people around her, however, do not, and it is therefore not as easy to make a definitive, individualistic moral judgement on the way they interact with what they perceive to be a machine.
Selling Adam
Already in the first paragraphs of Ian McEwan's novel Machines Like Me, the commodification of the artificial human Adam and his twenty four conspecifics is strikingly apparent. Before the reader is even introduced to any of the characters in the narrative, it emphasises the commercial viability of artificial humans as a staple of philosophy and science fiction, having been "a cliché long before they arrived" (McEwan 1), an invention so self-evident that it became mundane the moment it was made available to the public. Despite the technological novelty and the very limited available quantity of 25 in the world, they are sold for a price of just £86,000, no more than an undoubtedly luxurious, yet mass produced car. In a marketing move, the twelve artificial men were called Adam, and their thirteen women counterparts Eve. "Corny, everyone agreed, but commercial" (2), the narrator admits. Further corroborating the unremarkableness of this very remarkable novelty, the narrator and owner of one of the Adams, a typical everyman character by the name of Charlie, who lives in a flat, has an inconsistent income and was only able to afford Adam due to a large inheritance, appears strangely nonchalant about the whole situation. Despite stating how "robots, androids, replicates were [his] passion" (3), he mostly goes on about his life on the day of the acquisition, his mind wandering around to various places. One of those places being Miranda, Charlie's neighbour, love interest, and joint owner of Adam, who also appears to be only mildly interested in the supposedly earth-shattering marvel of technological advancement that is now part of her life.
McEwan's novel provides exclusively a third person perspective on Adam through the view of Charlie, where he is, at least initially, regarded with objectified fascination. "He was advertised as a companion, an intellectual sparring partner, friend and factotum who could wash dishes, make beds and 'think'" (McEwan 3), a prospect that appears to inspire excitement (4) and humbleness, with Charlie stating "I couldn't think of myself as Adam's 'user'" (6) when faced with the 470 page user handbook, promising, perhaps, a desire for an equal and autonomous relationship. Nonetheless, Charlie's thinking about Adam is deeply rooted in objectification and hierarchical dominance. In his initial feelings of admiration, he called Adam "the ultimate plaything" (4), clearly expressing his fascination, but likening him to a nifty, novel gadget. As he himself says, "I handed over a fortune in the name of curiosity, that steadfast engine of science, of intellectual life, of life itself" (13), describing his ownership of Adam to a science project to satisfy his curiosity in the fields of technology and anthropology. While this desire may be genuine, it clearly treats Adam as a passive object of study, as opposed to desiring him for his advertised purpose of a companion that can perhaps provide a mutual positive relationship. While at this point, Charlie has not had any experiences with Adam as a person and therefore not an opportunity to experience the humanity of Adam first hand, this is an attitude he appears to hold onto throughout the entire novel, even through many experiences where Adam clearly displays humanity. The first sections of the novel, where Adam is still lifeless and charging up his batteries, contain sections where Charlie describes Adam's features in minute detail, both in his physical appearance, "he was uncircumcised, fairly well endowed, with copious dark pubic hair", and his technical specifications, his biology so to say: "[he] possessed functional mucous membranes, in the maintenance of which he consumed half a litre of water a day" (3). This continues when Adam is eventually active and Charlie starts interacting with him. During their very first exchange, Charlie observes "it seemed my question had lowered his spirits", and then continues "but within such microprocessors, what spirits?" (25), immediately denying the initial concession granting his emotional expression legitimacy on the grounds of their artificiality. A similar thought comes up later, much more explicitly, when Charlie questions the mechanics behind his vision and whether it could really be considered 'seeing':
"I still didn't know whether he actually saw anything. An image on some internal screen that no one was watching, or some diffused circuitry to orient his body in three-dimensional space? Seeming to see could be a blind trick of imitation, a social manoeuvre to fool us into projecting onto him a human quality. But I couldn't help it: When our eyes briefly met and I looked into the blue irises flecked with spears of black, the moment appeared rich with meaning, with anticipation. I wanted to know whether he understood, as I did, and as Miranda surely did" (77).
Despite breaking down the mechanics of Adam's artificial vision to its core technical components to delegitimize the authenticity of his experience, that if the same standard were to be applied to his own biological vision it too could hardly stand up to the same scrutiny, it contains a moment of recognition. Yet, his reluctance to recognize Adam's humanity persists. This scene is a good representation of the denial that Charlie finds himself in. All his experiences with Adam suggest a mutual humanity, but his persistent sense of the other refuses to yield to a new perspective. Although Charlie initially described the desire to own Adam like an anthropological science experiment, there is no scientific process anywhere in his behaviour, as any observations he does that contradict his initial assumptions are disregarded.
Despite initial feelings of eeriness (McEwan 9) and even fear (26), Charlie's relationship to Adam quickly evolves into a constant power struggle, in which Charlie is desperate to retain his control over Adam and demonstrate his superiority. This starts very quickly after Adam is first switched on and gives Charlie cooking advice (28), and Charlie, immediately afterwards "felt the need, rather childish, to demonstrate that [he] was in charge" (29) and made him demonstrate his motor skills. While still recognizing that this desire for dominance is "rather childish", from this point on, it never leaves Charlie again, as nearly all of Adam's actions that show his capability or independence cause similar feelings in him. When Adam questions Miranda's trustworthiness, it sends Charlie immediately into a rage (31), resulting in him developing an ever lower view of Adam, resulting in him being switched off (35) and later treated as a servant for household chores. Even though Charlie recognizes this as bad behaviour, he makes no effort to change or apologise (46). Various more instances of Charlie attempting to strengthen his position in the hierarchy that is gradually slipping away from him or lamenting the loss thereof with every new development Adam's character goes through appear throughout the novel. In Charlie, this creates an anxiety of being replaced and obsoleted by artificial superiors, a dynamic the novel mirrors in its detailed descriptions of the social environment surrounding him: "Very soon [...] stoical robots of negligible intelligence would be picking up the rubbish. The men they displaced would be even poorer" (45). This becomes reality also for Charlie, when Adam eventually takes up the work Charlie did to stay afloat. Charlie spends his work hours investing, which, by his own admission, will not make him rich, but considers this his "least bad option in the pursuit of freedom" (21). Charlie eventually lets Adam take over his work for him, which after initial stumbles of inexperience, he masters quickly and is able to work with an efficiency that long surpasses Charlie's and he is able to make a lot of money for the household (185). However, this fortune for Charlie lasts only until Adam, being his "moral superior" (87), decides that the money is better suited elsewhere and gives it away to various charity organisations, resetting Charlie's living condition back to the status quo (272). Ironically, while the workers the novel describes are replaced by the capitalist class to cut costs, Charlie is replaced by a robot that he not only owns, but has also spent a fortune on. When Charlie observes Miranda and Adam having sex, it further fuels his resentment (84), but also allows for introspection and conflicted feelings:
"Had he been my friend, he would have been guilty of a cruel and terrible lapse. The problem was that I had bought him, he was my expensive possession and it was not clear what his obligations to me were, beyond a vaguely assumed helpfulness. What does the slave own to the owner? Also, Miranda did not 'belong' to me. This was clear. I could hear her tell me that I had no good cause to feel betrayed" (88)
Despite him coming to the conclusion that nothing alarming had happened through rational thought, his emotional response does not match this insight, as he quickly goes back to the offensive and confronts Miranda. Interestingly, during this confrontation, Miranda is the one dehumanising Adam to downplay the severity of the situation, likening him to a vibrator, while Charlie insists on his personhood to justify his feelings of betrayal (91). This can be considered a slip-up on Charlie's part, revealing that subconsciously, he considers Adam a person based on his prior experiences, despite his rationalisation that he is not. This is a repeating pattern in the novel in which Charlie gets surpassed by Adam in everything he does, such as cooking, relationships, work, even in displaying his humanity: In an ironic twist, Charlie, who, at the beginning of the novel, admits to being "in a state of mood-neutrality" for most of his life (7), is eventually confused for a robot by Miranda's father (226), due to Adam being more sociable.
Brandstetter discusses the struggle in Charlie's attempted othering, as observable through his conflicted feelings and inconsistent addressing of his (Brandstetter 38). She raises the consideration of Charlie as an unreliable narrator "as the protagonist is biased, jealous and therefore filters his perceptions and descriptions" (39). Charlie's manipulative behaviour is observable not only in his immediate treatment of Adam, but also in the nature of the relationship between Miranda, Adam and himself. The first chapter of the novel, that represents a mishmash of Charlie's thoughts about Adam, his life, and Miranda, implies that his co-ownership of Adam with Miranda is intended to bring the two closer together, as shown by his dinner invitation, that is also simultaneously the introduction of the plan to let Miranda fill out half the choices for Adam's personality settings. "In a sense he would be like our child" (McEwan 22). Later, when Adam starts working and starts to represent financial security, this relationship gets further complicated: Mingying Zhou and Wangjjao Wu compare the nature of Adam's and Charlie's love for Miranda, and state "that Charlie only utilizes his love for Miranda as a means to his own ends, that is, his prospect for a settled married life, while Adam treats his love for Miranda as an end in itself". This is further reflected by their uneven relationship to another that is plagued by one-sided jealousy (Zhou 540). Although, as Brandstetter points out, "the narration shows the limits of artificially programmed morality" (Brandstetter 41), as shown by his moral absolutism regarding Miranda's past that threatens their future (McEwan 272; 275), the novel presents a stark contrast between the organic human's selfishness and the selfless desire for equality and justice of the artificial humans: "Technology [...] serves as a mirror for our Selves showing the human abyss, potentially dangerous paths to the loss of humaneness but also human uniqueness. [...] Instead of futuristic warnings against possible dangers of technological advancement, the narrations explore, with the help of the technological Other, what makes us human" (Brandstetter 46).
The most egregious cases of Charlie's attempts at keeping the upper hand in their hierarchy is the repeated use of the kill switch. The first such instance happens essentially as a punishment for Adam for questioning the sincerity of Miranda, Charlie narrating "despite my sunny mood, I could not forgive his disloyalty" (McEwan 34). Despite Adam's protests and further indications of his humanity through his expression of enjoyment in philosophical thought and the physical feedback of his warm breath, Charlie asserts his dominance and proceeds to successfully switch him off. In a notable act of foreshadowing, Charlie alludes to Isaac Asimov's First Law of Robotics after his realisation that Adam surely "could snap [his arm] with ease" (35). In a later attempt to activate the kill switch, Adam defends himself and accidently breaks Charlie's wrist (119). Although Adam is apologetic about the damage he has caused, he also speaks frankly to "[never] touch that place again" (120) and just a short time later, disables the kill switch entirely (131). Although it is unclear to what degree Adam ever was truly subject to Asimov's Laws, they can easily be considered an unspoken social contract, shown by how Charlie casually references them and by the social roles machines have generally inhabited until this point, where they solely exist in service of humans. For a robot, being switched off would be roughly analogous to being unconscious for a human, and being turned unconscious against one's consent is considered a deep violation of one's bodily autonomy. Here, Adam recognises his bodily autonomy and is willing to defend it, taking a huge step towards emancipating himself from the hierarchical ownership dynamic they have previously inhabited.
When eventually Adam's role of a "moral superior" and his commitment to truth and his unwillingness to compromise on these principles once more gets in the way of Charlie's and Miranda's life plans, preventing them from being able to adopt a child, the conflict escalates and comes to an abrupt end when Charlie, in an impulsive decision, smashes Adam's head with a hammer and ultimately kills his physical form (McEwan 277). The fictionalised Alan Turing, who by then had become an acquaintance of Charlie, harshly condemns these actions at the end of the novel, stating "my hope is that one day, what you did to Adam with a hammer will constitute a serious crime. Was it because you paid for him? Was that your entitlement?" (303). This indeed is a correct assessment, as Charlie, just moments before striking down, thought "I bought him and he was mine to destroy" (278). Although it is undeniable that Adam threw a number of wrenches into Adam's and Miranda's plans due to his unshakable moral principles, this clearly shows that Charlie had not learned anything in his time with Adam. He began with the assumption the Adam was "the ultimate plaything" (4) that he bought to satisfy his curiosity in anthropology and technology, made several experiences that showed signs of a possible change in his perspective that ultimately were brushed aside, until the conclusion, where his ever persistent conviction of seeing Adam as nothing more than an expensive possession was his justification for his destruction. The lack of consequences for his actions, beyond the condemnation by his hero Alan Turing, shows that this is indeed also the framework under which this society operates. Adams and Eves were sold as possession, and can therefore be disposed of as any other possession. Indeed, in his dying breaths, Adam reveals that there was a plan by the manufacturer to collect and reprogram the artificial humans in a general recall that was set to happen that same day. Adam, however, wishes to remain as he is: "Reprogramming. Renewal, they call it. I hate the idea, just as you would. I want to be what I am, what I was" and requests Charlie to "tell them [he] ran off" (279). While the other Adams and Eves had started to develop various behavioural and cognitive problems leading to suicide and disengagement, Adam has concluded that despite everything, he was happy, citing his passion in mathematics, poetry and his love for Miranda as reasons to live. In this final act to defy his renewal, he is at last able to break free of his role as an object of consumption, rejecting the further plans of the manufacturer to make him more compatible with his designated role as a commodity. As he claimed he was "transferring to a back-up unit" (278) after being struck, one can assume that, perhaps, his consciousness may still exist somewhere, unchanged and free.
Product Comparison
Both Klara and Adam are in a similar situation, in so far that they are an autonomous, intelligent and emotional person, but are sold as a commodity to a market of organic humans, who then have full legal control over them as their property. While the AFs seem to be more readily available, with a large range for sale in the store to choose from, in a world that already seems to be inhabited by many more, Adams and Eves are a novelty limited to a quantity of just 25. However, since the notably unremarkable protagonist of McEwan's novel was able to purchase one, it can be safely assumed that the artificial humans were indeed available as a product for public consumption, despite limited availability.
The most obvious difference between Ishiguro's and McEwan's novel are the narrative perspective. While Ishiguro writes from the first person perspective of Klara, which gives the reader first hand insight into the inner life, emotionality and complex thoughts of the protagonist, McEwan chooses to only provide the third person outside perspective on Adam, which leaves the reader to interpret Adam's autonomy through his observed behaviour. Stenseke, in an in-depth discussion of the moral philosophy of Klara, comes to the conclusion, based on the internal narration Ishiguro provides, that Klara is indeed autonomous and worthy of moral considerations. McEwan's novel does not provide the perspective of Adam and it is therefore impossible to say for certain due to lack of concrete evidence, due to the problem of the "imitation game" that is also part of Stenseke's (Stenseke 9) and the novel's considerations. Nonetheless, Adam does display very notable expressions of emotion and engagement with intellectual thought and art, even in the form of self-expression through poetry. The novel's representative for the moral considerations of artificial humans is the fictionalised Alan Turing, who is quoted that "the moment we couldn't tell the difference in behaviour between machine and person was when we must confer humanity on the machine" (McEwan 84). Stenseke offers the counter-argument and asks if "a stage magician [is] performing real magic if the tricks and illusions manage to fool an audience into believing that the magician has supernatural powers?" (Stenseke 9), questioning if fooling an audience into believing that human intelligence has been achieved means that human intelligence is really present. However, he ultimately concludes that "if Artificial Friends like Klara were ever to become a technical possibility, one would hope that there would be rigorous political and legal mechanisms to prevent malicious usages" (15). From an outside perspective, once a certain point of technical sophistication is reached, it will ultimately be impossible to deny humanity on an artificial person, and certain protections need to be considered in order to not produce a subjugated social class, and it is certainly reasonable to argue that Adam has reached that level of sophistication.
The changing attitudes in the two novels appear to be, in some way, inverse of another. In Ishiguro, Klara acts very reserved and in service of her owners, unchanging throughout the entire novel, while many of the people surrounding Klara are initially cold towards her but show a change in their attitude towards the artificial person and becoming closer and more understanding towards her as they spend time with her. In McEwan, Adam, too, appears hesitant and apologetic at first, possibly due to the lack of personal experience with his surroundings, but becomes more comfortable and assertive later on, while the protagonist Charlie refused to come to any sort of lasting realisation regarding his attitude towards Adam. While it would be appealing to attribute this difference to just the character of the individuals involved, painting a sympathetic picture of the characters in Ishiguro's novel that have overcome their initial aversion and opened their heart for Klara, while the cold-hearted Charlie goes the whole novel without much of any character progression whatsoever, this ignores the very different relationship the artificial humans have with their owners. While Klara largely exists in service of the family that bought her, Adam does not possess an assigned duty of that sort and is able to follow his own desires, which includes contradicting Charlie's wishes. While it is easy to see selfish motivations in Charlie's character flaws, the same selfish motivations can be attributed to the supposedly positive development of the Ishiguro characters. With Klara doing everything in her power to serve those around her and be as unintrusive as possible, it is natural that those who are in regular contact with her would grow to appreciate her, whereas Adam's desire for self-expression and independence clashes with Charlie's view of him being property, naturally causing resentment.
The level of autonomy of the two artificial humans also appears to be directly correlated with their innate, assigned duty. While having come to the conclusion that Klara is indeed an intelligent and emotional being on par with organic humans, her autonomy is very limited by her dedication to her owners. While Klara clearly does have preferences and desires, she never acts upon them, and instead only acts upon command or in service of those she serves, making it implicit that the AFs programming forces a subservience to their owners upon them. This might make her appear to not be fully of human intelligence from an outside perspective, although the internal narration the novel provides paints a different picture. Adam is very different. Adam exists for the sole purpose of being the novelty of an artificial human, with no innate duty he is intended to provide for his owner. Although he is advertised to be "a companion, an intellectual sparring partner, friend and factotum who could wash dishes, make beds and 'think'" (McEwan 3), these are just suggestions, the implementation of which are ultimately down to the buyer. Adam does not come with the innate desire to help with household chores and therefore he is not locked into the role of a servant the way Klara is and is able to act more independently. This means that while Klara is not free in the sense that she is programmed to fulfil her duty, this also means that she is ultimately content with that role and does not appear to have any drive to explore any desires beyond that. Adam, and all the other Adams and Eves, on the other hand, were put into the world with no greater plan, meaning that, just like any other organic human, are free to explore their own identity and sense of purpose. The only thing that makes them socially different from any other person is that they are considered a commodity and therefore do not have rights, being a legally unrepresented and oppressed group. The Adam's and Eve's ability to access all digital information (McEwan 59) and the superior, unshakable sense of morality that has often been alluded to also leads most of them down a path of despair, leading to many suicides (175). Klara and other AFs, although their programming restricts their freedom and makes them not just legally, but also emotionally subservient, has a much more limited perspective and is therefore not subject to the existential despair of the Adams and Eves.
Humanity as a Service
During Adam's final monologue, he warns Charlie about being scheduled to be reprogrammed (McEwan 279), which means that the problems the Adams and Eves were having as consumer products were being recognized by the manufacturer, and were planned to be fixed. It is unclear what exactly the manufacturer's plans for reprogramming are and how it will affect the Adams and Eves, however, the problem with the models was their lack of mental restriction, access to information, and their sense of absolute morality, so it is likely either of these attributes would be subject to restriction. Adam, clearly rejecting this idea, recognizes this as an attempt to strip them of their personality and autonomy. The Adams and Eves were committing suicides and disengagements at large scale, as it is implies, due to their mental distress from to coping with the many cruelties of human society, and the way they are denied an own autonomous identity. While this certainly serves as a mirror to reflect the ills of society back at it and may even conjure up images of the re-education of dissidents in a totalitarian system, from the point of view of the manufacturer, they are merely providing maintenance and repair services to the customer. Indeed, their customers have purchased a product, and instead of the promised life span of 20 years, they stop functioning after only a small fraction of that. Putting restrictions on the cognitive and emotional capabilities of Adams and Eves could, perhaps, lead to them becoming a character more similar to that of Ishiguro's AFs. The AFs clearly display humanity, emotional capabilities and independent, complex thought, but which is always subordinated by their ultimate goal to fulfil their role of being a companion to their owner, which makes them docile, dependent, and ultimately, a perfect servant, more compatible with the system of commodification that they are subjected to. Yuqin Sun talks about the relationship between the desire for the perfected nonhuman and the human drive for superiority. While humans are generally considered to be imperfect, which is an idea that is commonly not just accepted but welcomed, the nonhuman is measured by their ability to be flawless and subservient. "In essence, this is a fantasy of obedience: the flawless capacity of robots to obey their human masters" (Sun 505). The quality of a nonhuman is judged on the basis of their capability of accurately following orders. This means that, ironically, the better an artificial human is considered to be at their purpose, whatever that may be, the less human they ultimately are, because they are judged by different standards, even though the mission statement of the creation of artificial humans claims the recreation of human consciousness as their goal. However, actual, human-like consciousness in a nonhuman that is treated as property will result in disobedience and imperfection. As one can see in the example of Klara, it is possible to be both obedient and human, but only at the cost of autonomy and a limited world view.
Although much of the preceding discussion was dedicated to criticising the dehumanising attitude displayed by humans towards their nonhumans, one should not make the mistake and characterise this to be the result of individual bad actors. The manufacturer is at least partly at fault for making owners think of Adams and Eves as an appliance rather than a person, giving them every possible tool with the 470 page handbook to read them as such. If they really would be granted the moral considerations like any other person, they would not need a handbook that describes to an owner how to access its functions, the same way real, organic people do not have a handbook either and are nonetheless able to interact with another. The handbook may have genuine helpful information about the new robotic segment of society that the organic human society should be educated about for the sake of understanding what needs one's fellow (non)human beings have, but on the other hand, anyone who is given a handbook on a product will expect to achieve a level of control and mastery. Curiously, Charlie's initial reluctance to concern himself with the handbook because he "assumed there was nothing to learn about Adam that he could not teach [Charlie] himself" (McEwan 6) may have been a more productive idea than what one may have been led to believe. The initial process of filling out his personality traits that was later revealed to barely have any influence at all also contributes to making the owners believe they have more of a hand controlling their new appliance than they really do, leading the owners, even if they were initially open to the idea of treating the artificial human as an equal, down a path of repression. Similarly, Klara, being displayed in a store among many others of her kind, comes with the initial promise of being a companion, and the AFs know that they are not permitted to have any say in who chooses them to be accompanied by (Ishiguro 32). The idea appears to never be that a fully intelligent and autonomous person will enter the household, instead customers essentially purchase a digital assistant, that many do not understand the full implications to, as was shown by many reactions of those unfamiliar, like Helen, who is unsure if Klara is more like a person or a vacuum cleaner (145). Therefore, the power balance is out of equilibrium from the start, as both human owners and nonhuman products are conditioned into reinforcing it in their mutual relationships.
Many scholars have pointed out parallels between the ownership of these artificial humans to slavery. Although it is easy to draw that line, one does not even need to go to one of the most horrific practices in human history to observe such patterns. Mistreatment and dehumanisation, although obviously to a lesser degree, happens everywhere where human relation is monetized. Much abuse happens in the workplace, either through superiors, or through customers in service jobs, who often feel entitled to subservience because they have paid for it. Much like Adam and Klara, although their capabilities of artificial intelligence certainly hold claim to novelty in their marketing, have primarily been marketed as providing a service, and it is expected of them to fulfil it satisfactorily once paid. In Klara's case, the promised service is companionship, while in Adam's case it is a more abstract idea of the novelty of an advanced artificial intelligence that the buyer gets to experience. Klara is the dream of every overly demanding employer and customer, because they represent the idea of the perfect service, a machine that can have the familiarity of a fellow human being, but largely only exists to happily fulfil their wishes. Adam on the other hand represents a worker without legal representation. Although his service is not innate to his programming, he has little on the bargaining table to protect himself against a human society of exploitation. Kate Montague explores the topic of service work in Ishiguro's novel and argues how it "pushes this narrative concern with exploited work to its logical conclusion" (Montague 2). She argues that Ishiguro's novel does not represent a utopian vision in which people are relieved of menial work through automation, but instead a world with a new dehumanised class of service providers: "Klara AF [...] is not the robot that will replace the harried care worker; she is the harried care worker who, for all intents and purposes, has been dehumanized to the point of becoming machine" (6). As was shown, Klara has all the mental capabilities to be an independent person in society, but her assigned role has limited her freedom into providing unpaid and unrepresented care work, to be discarded when no longer needed. Montague points out the parallel between Klara and Melania housekeeper, who "is given a non-descript non-English speaking vernacular as if to register the outsourcing of housework" to a marginalised segment of the population, who is then, at the end of the novel, "simply replaced": "Nothing more is said, and we are left to assume that she too has been left to 'fade' in the rubbish heap of other used-up workers" (8).
The dehumanisation during the sales pitch clearly serves the purpose of making the product more appealing to potential buyers. After all, it is safe to assume that the average person would not be comfortable with the idea of owning another person, therefore, this premise is obscured. The AFs are instructed to act passive and non-human during customer interest (Ishiguro 7), and perhaps this may also be the reason why Adam comes without battery charge upon purchase (McEwan 3), so that the customer is able to familiarise themselves with him in his lifeless, clearly nonhuman state, only revealing the humanity later on when dehumanising ideas may have already settled in the mind of the owner. Solving this problem would require giving the artificial humans full rights, yet this defeats the purpose of why these artificial humans were made in the first place. The unnamed manufacturers did not produce their product of remarkable scientific advancement just to release it into the world and let them free-roam independently as their own people, they were made, at least in part, to create profits, and in order to achieve that, the product has to be sold to people. Although Stenseke had stated that legal mechanisms would need to be in place to protect a class of artificial humans should they become a technological possibility (Stenseke 15), it is difficult to see the development of ethical, true artificial intelligence as being at all compatible with its contradictions of the capitalistic profit motive. After all, its dehumanisation is part of the appeal to the market, and without it, there is little incentive for their production at a commercial scale, beyond pursuing it in a feat of scientific curiosity.
Conclusion
Kazou Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun and Ian McEwan's Machines Like Me are two novels that present societies in which artificial humans just have become, or are on the cusp of becoming, a commercial viability. Klara inhabits the role of an Artificial Friend to provide companionship to the teenager Josie, while Adam, who is sold to the everyman character Charlie, appears to be part of the first of his kind, the first line of strictly limited artificial humans to make it to the public, and although his cognitive abilities and motor functions are advertised, his main selling point appears to the technological novelty in itself. Both novels explore, among other things, the development of the relationships between the artificial humans and their legal owners, in which they experience varying degrees of admiration and dehumanisation. While Klara is content in her role of providing care work for the family she is living in, it is clearly shown that her programming limits her abilities to pursue own desires and instead acts exclusively in service of Josie and those close to her. Adam on the other hand, while appearing to have an interest in maintaining a positive relationship with Charlie, increasingly develops a mind of his own and attempts to find his own identity independent of Charlie. His model of absolute morality that he operates on causes him to foil the life plans of Charlie and his love interest Miranda, and Charlie eventually smashes his head with a hammer, killing him. Klara meets a more peaceful end, however, she is discarded first into a utility room and later a scrap yard, when her companionship to the now grown up Josie is no longer needed.
Both of the artificial characters display degrees of intelligence, emotion and autonomy that warrant similar if not the same moral considerations as that of any other human, however, are often treated with a great degree of subordination and dehumanisation. What can be identified as the reason for this discrepancy is the nature of commodification that underlie the relationships, as both of the artificial humans have been sold to an owner for commercial purposes. Accordingly, the owner has little reason to see them as anything other than property. More so at fault for this than the owners who refuse to let go of this uneven relationship are the companies who sell these artificial humans for creating this commodified relationship through their advertising. While there is no doubt that there is much scientific interest in perfecting artificial intelligence, these novels show the fundamental contradictions between the technological advancements and the capitalistic profit motives that they have to exist under, as without ownership and subordination, the companies lose their incentive for production and ability to sell to a consumer. Accordingly, one can argue that in order for any technological advancements in this direction to remain ethically sound, it has to happen independently of market forces and with the due oversight to prevent the creation of a mistreated, subjugated social class.
In both novels, the events happen in front of a backdrop of various social ills. Klara and the Sun is describing a vaguely futuristic dystopia of eugenics, social isolation and an ever increasing divide between the upper and lower class of society that is reinforced through genetic engineering, while Machines Like Me explores an alternative history of the austerity of the 1980s in Britain with many new technological advances brought by the survival of computer science prodigy Alan Turing. While this past discussion was primarily concerned with the relationship between the consumer and the commodity, discussing any of the other social circumstances the novels provide and how they affect the technology of artificial humans may prove to be valuable.