Sphere

by Michael Crichton

It seemed to him that a society in which the most common prescription drug was Valium was, by definition, a society with unsolved problems.

She was a tall, angular woman of thirty-six who could be called pretty despite her sharp features and the almost masculine quality of her body. In the years since Norman had last seen her, she seemed to have emphasized her masculine side even more. Beth was a serious weight-lifter and runner; the veins and muscles bulged at her neck and on her forearms, and her legs, beneath her shorts, were powerful. Her hair was cut short, hardly longer than a man’s. At the same time, she wore jewelry and makeup, and she moved in a seductive way. Her voice was soft, and her eyes were large and liquid, especially when she talked about the living things that she studied. At those times she became almost maternal. One of her colleagues at the University of Chicago had referred to her as “Mother Nature with muscles.”

Motherfuckin EW. Male gaze. Wow. No

Norman thought: She is a librarian.

Wtf is wrong with being a librarian

“Like our padded cell?” He poked the insulated walls. “It’s like living in a vagina.”

Honestly wtf

“Well, she feels mistreated, and I can see her point.” “Yeah,” Harry said. “But the thing is, lie down with dogs, get up with fleas, you know what I mean?” “Jesus,” Beth said, returning. “This is like ‘The girl who’s raped is always asking for it,’ is that what you’re saying?” “No,” Harry said, still lifting up floor panels, following the wires. “But sometimes you gotta ask what the girl is doing in a dark alley at three in the morning in a bad part of town.”

Jesus give me a break

So there must be another reason why we only conceive of extraterrestrials as humans. And I think the answer is that we are, in reality, terribly frail animals. And we don’t like to be reminded of how frail we are—how delicate the balances are inside our own bodies, how short our stay on Earth, and how easily it is ended. So we imagine other life forms as being like us, so we don’t have to think of the real threat—the terrifying threat—they may represent, without ever intending to.”

For a high-tension situation, groups of three were inherently unstable. Unless everybody had clearly defined responsibilities, the group tended to form shifting allegiances, two against one.

Beth was victimized by men, victimized by the establishment, victimized by research, victimized by reality. In every case she failed to see how she had done it to herself. And she’s put explosives all around the habitat, he thought.

WOowow way to validate someone's lived experience. NOT. Seems like the author's attempt at mansplaining feminism.

“Understanding is a delaying tactic.” Stein used to get angry about that. When the graduate students would intellectualize, going on and on about patients and their problems, he would interrupt in annoyance, “Who cares? Who cares whether we understand the psychodynamics in this case? Do you want to understand how to swim, or do you want to jump in and start swimming? Only people who are afraid of the water want to understand it. Other people jump in and get wet.”

But the irrational side didn’t go away if you refused to deal with it. Irrationality didn’t atrophy with disuse. On the contrary, left unattended, the irrational side of man had grown in power and scope.