“空漠之眼”：威廉·吉布森《愛(ài)朵露》中的顏貌、空間與肉體

姜宇輝

（華東師范大學(xué)）

“空漠之眼”：威廉·吉布森《愛(ài)朵露》中的顏貌、空間與肉體

姜宇輝

（華東師范大學(xué)）

后人類主義是晚近興起的一個(gè)極具前衛(wèi)性的激進(jìn)思潮，人—機(jī)共生是其重要原則，張狂的玄想和思辨則是其標(biāo)志性的理論風(fēng)格。但其意義并非僅僅在于向未來(lái)投射漫無(wú)目的的幻象，而更在于對(duì)當(dāng)下的時(shí)代狀況給出切入骨髓的診斷。機(jī)器、網(wǎng)絡(luò)對(duì)肉體和生命的操控與滲透并非必然導(dǎo)向解放的希望，相反，只有在解域和逃逸的策略之下，方可真正實(shí)現(xiàn)流動(dòng)與游牧。我們?cè)噲D以賽博朋克教父威廉·吉布森的名作《愛(ài)朵露》為具體案例，以德勒茲及瓜塔里在《千高原》中對(duì)顏貌的啟示性論述為理論參照，展示近未來(lái)時(shí)代的游牧方略?！翱漳邸睂?shí)現(xiàn)著對(duì)欲望—機(jī)器的解域，而作為面具之臉又戲劇性地上演著不同空間的節(jié)奏共振。

后人類主義；顏貌；欲望—機(jī)器；空洞之眼；面具

Notes on Author: Yuhui Jiang is a professor in the department of philosophy at East China Normal University. He was a visiting scholar in the CUHK. His research interests include contemporary French philosophy and the philosophy of art. Email: yuhuijiang@126. com

She is a voice， a face， familiar to millions.

She is a sea of code， the ultimate expression of entertainment software.

Her audience knows that she does not walk among them；

that she is media， purely.

— William Gibson， All Tomorrow’s Parties

The inhuman in human beings: that is what

the face is from the start.

— Deleuze & Guattari， A Thousand Plateaus

First of all， why William Gibson？ Why Idoru？ Since one of our main purposes in this paper is to deeply understand what the so-called “post-human condition” are really about， William Gibson might be such a figure that we just couldn’t ignore.If by “post-human” we refer to the variety of virtual/ potential/symbiotic assemblages of human and other heterogeneous elements（especially those concerning cutting-edge technology）， then the movement of cyberpunk， though not being the very first motivation of posthumanismIn the last chapter of his book， Pepperell has traced post-humanism back to many different inspirations of 20century.， should be considered as one of the most radical expressions of this main tendency. Actually， most of the basic arguments concerning the issue of “cyborg”， one of the hottest topics of our time， can be traced back to its “prehistory” source incyberpunk or the relevant science fictions.

In this respect， William Gibson， as one of the pioneers of this legendary movement， has already provided us with so many inspiring insights as well as puzzling riddles. However， as many scholars have noticed （for example， Ross Farnell， “William Gibson’s ‘Architexture’ in ‘Virtual Light’ and ‘Idoru’”），cyberpunk as a trend in science fiction and sub-culture has irrevocably declined.If literature should be considered not only as a mirror-like representation of the Reality，but more importantly an active engagement with the ever-changing social life， then the shifting trend within the development of sf can also lead us to unveil the deep situations of the “present”: “This is why posthumanism is not just about the future，it is also as much about the present. ... many people remain unaware of the huge implications of the technologies that are now being developed， and few of us are invited to take an active part in those decisions that will profoundly affect the course of human development: who is in charge of the future？”

When Gibson transferred from the genre of cyberpunk to the “post-Sprawl” Bridge Trilogy （Virtual Light， Idoru， All Tomorrow’s Parties）， what has changed is not only the setting of the story （from “virtual” internet to “actual” cities and places）， but his understanding of our “present” situation of existence. After twenties years’ boom（“accelerating”， “speed”， “Future shock”， etc.）， the optimism of a World Wide Web utopia has finally failed， or at least paused for a while. “All the looking forward slowed down. The leaning into the future became more of a standing up into the present.”We come to realize that the Web is far from an independent or transcendent kingdom of Plato’s Ideas （digital codes）， but rather a playground or even a battlefield where all kinds of powers and forces （political， commercial， cultural， religious， ...） are competing with each other.If the “disembodied” mind （the “neuromancer”） has been no more than an out-dated comic hero， we need to return to the “present” and get even deeply involvedinto the Reality where we can draw our own line of flight， explore new symbiotic relationships （“data and flesh”， Farnell: 472）， just to create those ever-changing singular/singulier assemblages.

Among the Bridge Trilogy， Idoru obviously occupies the central position. It has pushed the burgeoning motif of Virtual Light toward an intensive peak （“ecstasy and dread”） while keeping the dramatic suspense without forcing it along a determinate direction. Scholars tend to read the story as a beautiful but sad allegory of Baudrillard’s consumption society or Guy Debord’s spectacle society， just to mention two of the typical interpretations. These interpretations seem reasonable to the extent that Rei Toei is a disembodied digital idol whose existence has been reduced to a mere image. However， as an image， she’s demonstrated an irreducible singularity: she is a face， or more exactly， she is a digital image communicating with us mainly through her face. In this sense， “faciality” （visagéité） might be considered as her essential phenomenal characteristic. Before we hastily offer a late-Capitalism analysis of the political economy as well as ontology of image， simulation or symbolic value， it seems highly recommendable that we first of all focus on the basic distinctions of the image itself， especially the image which shows itself via the dimensions of faciality.

1.“faciality” in Mille Plateaux

Deleuze’s obsession with face is not accidental in his development of thinking. From Mille Plateauxthrough Logique de la sensation to Cinéma I， face has been quite a major topic.

In MP， the discussions of face have been developed around the conceptual duo“white wall/balck hole”， but actually this duality refers to the abstract machine（“faciality”） which “produces faces according to the changeable combinations of its cogwheels”. Understood this way， a face is never a completely concrete entity， but rather a “frame or a screen” upon which the signification inscribes its rules （“you’ve been recognized， the abstract machine has you inscribed in itsoverall grid”）or an “index” which always refers to the underlying structure（“throughout the system faces are distributed and faciality traits organized”）.In this sense， the abstract machines of faciality have dominated the daily communications， though it’s never easy to bring their functions into daylight （“a much more unconscious and machinic operation”）.In MP， not a few passages have been contributed to the detailed descriptions of these differentiated functions.

That’s also why in order to create a popular idol， all we need is precisely a mere image， a image of face. As a screen or an index， it has been saturated with all kinds of commercialized desires: “... Slitscan’s audience. Which is best visualized as a vicious， lazy， profoundly ignorant， perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed.”Though this is the case for most of the images in daily life， image of face still has its irreducible features. Essentially speaking， it is a surface. “The head， even the human head， is not necessarily a face. The face is produced only when the head ceases to be a part of the body， when it ceases to be coded by the body， ... — when the body， head included， has been decoded and has to be overcoded by something we shall call the Face.”（MP， 170） That’s exactly why Rei Toei doesn’t necessarily need a body to become a real idol. In fact， to become a pure face is just to “facialize” the whole body （head is only a part of it）， to flatten its volume， structure and depth， and finally to release （“decode”） all the corporeal traits from the confinement of organisme.

This may sound weird. Some might say that we adore an idol only because she’s“real”， that is， she is flesh and bone just like us， except that she’s been idealized. In another word， we like her because she resembles us， and elevates all those human traits （beauty， personality， virtue ...） to an incredibly high level. If so， then how could a dehumanized， de-corporealized face have any allurement for us？ But do you really know what you want？ Or more precisely， can you always clearly define the proper object of your desire？ The truth is， people fall in love with all kinds of objects: fakedolls （Radiohead: “my fake Chinese love”）， machines （iphone， PC）， or even stones （diamond， jade）， to name just a few. So maybe the most important is not what you want， but how you want it， or through what abstract machine your desire has been distributed. The affection for a diamond and the love for a person can be operated within the same machine （sexualized libido）， while the adoration of an idol could move along a different direction. We can fall in love with a superstar as a real person （love-machine）， but more significantly we can also fall in love with a pure image and in so doing， we tend to facialize， decode the body and open it to an even wider “surface” （faciality-machine）. Confronted with a facial close-up， one might be overwhelmed by the incredible beauty of the actress， but one can also get lost in all those facial details （“faciality traits”； “elementary facial units”，） and become“inhuman” along with the image: “The inhuman in human beings: that is what the face is from the start.”That’s exactly what happened when Chia first entered the“Tokyo Chapter” and caught glimpse of Hiromi Ogawa: “The face was smooth， only partially featured， eyeless， with twin straight rows of small holes where a mouth should have been.”O(jiān)r， we should hold breath and just enjoy the otherworldly beauty of the Idoru when Laney first saw her “face”:

He seemed to cross a line. In the very structure of her face， in geometries of underlying bone， lay coded histories of dynastic flight，privation， terrible migrations. He saw stone tombs in steep alpine meadows， their lintels traced with snow. A line of shaggy pack ponies，their breath white with cold， followed a trail above a canyon. The curves of the river below were strokes of distant silver. Iron harness bells clanked in the blue dusk.

Face as landscape. Or， the abstract machine of face-landscape: “All faces envelop an unknown， unexplored landscape.”But what the authors refer to herecan’t be any real landscape where you might feel comfortable and released. The face-landscape is always from “some imaginary country”， that is， it opens up to the dimensions of inhuman.

Here we’ve also touched upon another essential point. As D&G have indicated，a face is never pure and simple. It has at least two correlated aspects: décodage and surcodage. To be exact， though it tends to decode the organization of the body（organisme）， it sometimes turns out to be overcoded on another plane and by other abstract machines. That’s why D&G warn us in advance: “Yes， the face has a great future， but only if it is destroyed， dismantled.”Correspondingly， there will be two different attitudes towards the idoru as a pure image: on the one hand， like most of the idolaters， the fans， we can idealize her as a personalized superstar who has been overcoded （facialized） once again as an index or a “signifier” by abstract machines；or， on the other， we’d better follow Laney， the “netrunner”or “researcher”， just to“dismantle” the faciality-image and “become imperceptible”， once again. The whole book has evolved along these two main axes. On the one side， we’ve met the girls from Lo/Rez Fanclubs （the machine of popular culture）， the Paragon Asia Dataflow（the business-machine）， and the Russians （the War-machine）: “This is an affair not of ideology but of economy and the organization of power （pouvoir）.”O(jiān)n the other，there are Laney， Chia， as well as Yamazakiand the “gomi boy” who tried to figure out what was going on by “sifting” the dataflows and unveiling the “unthinkably deeper structure” （Idoru， 51）（that is， “their conditions of possibility”）， just in order to “steer the flows down lines of positive deterritorializaton or creative flight”. These two threads finally converge towards the central event， the “marriage” of Lo/ Rez. This event may not be so absurd as it has seemed at first glance. Far from beinganother banal fable about cyborg（“data and flesh， a new ‘mode’ of being”）， it has showed us an effective strategy to dismantle/decode the faciality-machine， once again: that is， we can always bring the face-image into becoming （devenir） by connecting it to other heterogeneous series and then creating new assemblages: “First theorem: One never deterritorializes alone； there are always at least two terms.”Throughout the whole book， we can find a variety of explicit and implicit clues about this strategy（similar to the primary production of the desiring machine in L’Anti-?dipe : 《et puis， et puis， et puis ...》）. For example， we might invent a “nomad machine”or even turn to “primitive societies”， just to look for those “heterogeneous， polyvocal，primitive semiotics”. Anyway， there won’t be a final， definite solution， since this is supposed to be “the continually refought battle between a faciality trait that tries to escape the sovereign organization of the face and the face itself”. But first of all， the breakthrough point would always be the “black hole”， that is， the “gazeless eyes”.

2.“gazeless eyes”

Eyes must be the most expressive or “significative” parts/traits of the face. We often communicate merely through eye contact even without a word spoken. That’s also why eyes have traditionally been described as the “window” of inner soul. Compared with other external corporeal expressions （voice， for instance）， eyes apparently serve as a more direct entry to the interior realm. In this sense， we can understand why D&G have chosen the “gazeless eyes” to be the very first procedure of dismantling faciality machines. To escape from the confinement of a signifying and subjective face， one should first of all “de-signify” the eyes. To be more precise，the eyes are actually nothing other than two “black holes” on a white all， which means in the end they represent or signify nothing: “eyes you traverse instead of seeing yourself in or gazing into in those glum face-to-face encounters between signifying subjectivities.”Henry Miller once used a breathtaking expression（“swim through”） to dramatize this movement of “traversing”. William Gibson，of course， has a similar one: “He fell through her eyes.”But how？ “How do you get out of the black hole？ How do you break through the wall？ How do you dismantle the face？”

The key point is that the “gazeless eyes” are nothing like the “dead eyes” on a despotic or an authoritarian face. In the latter case， the eyes are even more confined within the definite border， while for the former， the most important is precisely to abolish all the borders， limits as well as structures and frames， so that the whole surface really starts to turn back to an intensive movement — an “intensive face” （“un visage intensif”）， as Deleuze has defined in Cinéma I: “En fait， nous nous trouvons devant un visage intensif chaque fois que les traits s’échappent du contour.”Borders begin to blur， every facial trait begins to melt away， and gradually the whole face is turning into a whirlpool， or even a Sahara， as Deleuze has encountered in those incredible portraits by Francis Bacon （Logique de la sensation）. Moreover， this becoming-Sahara of a face tends to move beyond a two-dimensional plane by traversing simultaneously the different scales， levels， or strata. Just look at any of Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings. Here the speed is always the essential factor. “The question of the body is not one of part-objects but of differential speeds.”（MP， 172）Different speeds result in different degrees of intensity. Though speed is not always proportional to intensity， the complicated relationship between them is still crucial for the effectuation of facial deterritorialization.

This point could also be perfectly exemplified in film works. For instance， in Cinéma I （Chapter 6）， Deleuze focuses on those typical techniques of close-up to vivify the above-mentioned argument. In stark contrast to the reflexive face （the White Wall） characterized mainly by contour， unity， or “pure Quality”， the intensive face is full of “micro-movements of expression”（Cinéma I， 130）. Incessantly passing from “one quality to another”， it is nothing other than the “desire” of becoming. To base his argument on a solid foundation， Deleuze draws our attention to the maindifferences between the expressionism and Sternberg. For the former， the intensive movements are caught between two poles （light/darkness， ascending/descending）:“l(fā)a chute dans le trou noir” or “montée vers la lumière.”O(jiān)bviously there is still a duality as well as finality inherent in these movements: from non-organic to Form，from darkness to light， and finally from material/body to Spirit. By contrast， for Sternberg， this kind of binary structure never really works， and he’d like to return to the “gros plan-visage qui réfléchit la lumière”. In his films， darkness seldom appears at the opposite pole to light， but actually becomes the ephemeral， fragmented and various effects of the light refracted on the surface of the face-plane. Deleuze describes this unique artistic technique in a poetic way: “océanographie” or “atmosphères d’aquarium”. Just like the surface of ocean， the endless folding， unfolding and refolding on a face-plane have vehemently broken down the binary infrastructure of light/darkness and further transformed it into uncountable intensive micro-becomings.

Though none of these descriptions has explicit reference to the gazeless eyes，they’ve prepared the ground for the further discussion. Following Sternberg， we realize that the eyes as de-signifying black holes are supposed to lead us back to the face-plane itself: “Il n’y a pas de gros plan de visage. Le gros plan， c’est le visage.”When one drills a hole or breaches a gap on the face， it does have some deeper meanings. At least it shows us that a face is never merely a symbol/sign circulated endlessly by faciality machines or a pure image floating aimlessly in the immersive but illusory virtual realm （the Web）， but rather a real entity. It is real， not because it is an object，a thing， but because it can or should be operated through different machines and connected to different series. That’s why Lucio Fontana， in cutting and slicing his canvases， has from the very beginning decisively distinguished his works from those “gesture paintings”: in the latter case， for example the drip paintings of Jackson Pollock， though most of the basic doctrines of easel paintings have been abolished， the unrestrained urge to express the subjectivity has grown even stronger. But in Fontana’s paintings/sculptures， nothing subjective could have survived: everything becomes “machinic”， and every element needs to be operated“machinically”. “［T］he artist must have the courage to stop idolizing himself， to stop seeing himself at the center of the earth and of all things.”He used Stanley knife （a very common tool at that time）， rendered the canvas almost completely in monochrome， and cut or sliced in a manner as machinic as possible， only to sweep away the least traces of subjective or signifying expressions.No wonder a reviewer commented: “l(fā)ike holes in a punched card， like bullet holes in a wall， the holes carry information”. These informational holes refer to “another dimension of painting”which doesn’t merely indicate the materiality and spatiality of the painting as an object， but more importantly unveils its potentiality of being reconnected or re-operated. The image is no longer a pictorial spectacle fit into the wooden frame， since the black hole has already opened it to the Réel.

That’s also the revelatory message we need to decipher from William Gibson’s uncanny poetry of faciality. First， in this post-quake Tokyo， there already existed all kinds of faciality machines which managed to render one’s face look “real” while actually reducing it to a mere illusory image. However， in the eyes of Laney， as such an experienced “researcher”， these perfectly disguised face-images started to dissolve into dehumanized and de-signified data-flows.

It’s not just about those digital images one can create and edit at will. Apparently， they are too virtual to be real: for example， the virtual figures which the girls created when holding an online meeting: “miniature stone calendars whirling angrily in her eye-holes.”Sometimes these images look so unreal just because the creators have “kept the resolution down”. But even if they are “clear in every textural detail”， everyone is also clearly aware of their unreality: “a place that consisted of nothing else.”That’s why Chia， when traveling alone in the Venice “decompressed” which just “fit so perfectly into itself”， had such a hollowfeeling: “She had no idea what this place was meant to mean， the how or why of it.”All these ultimate questions are far beyond her reach. But she’s gotten close enough to the reality. She even has a close-up vision quite similar to Sternberg’s oceanography: she can catch glimpse of the finest details （“if you got in super close”）as well as the intensive micro-movements: “faint image-fragments，larger than life， came and went with the organic randomness of leaf-dappled sun and shadow，... these changed， were replaced with a mothlike flicker， and there would be more， all the way down into the site’s finest resolution， its digital fabric.”Despite all these extraordinary capabilities， she couldn’t succeed in getting herself out of the maze. In the end， she is only a lost child and a wandering poet in this digital Wonderland. The most she can do is to pose the ultimate question （“only if there were someone there to pose the right question”）: “impossible but true.”Incapable of locating the exit point （the “nodal point”）， she’s gradually drowned herself in this boundless swamp of virtual reality， just like Alison Shires or everyone else， “into the pool of data that reflected her life， its surface made of all the bits that were the daily record of her life as it registered on the digital fabric of the world”.

At first glance， Laney has gone through the same sufferings. But quite different from Chia， he is not a poet， but a cowboy， engineer， scientist as well as a philosopher. He also cast doubts， but his job was always to find the proper ways to overcome them. Also obviously different from Chia， he’ not only obsessed with virtual images， but has shown a keen intuition in exposing the unreality of those“real” faces. At first， he tried to see through the eyes of other people in order to read the hidden desires behind them: “Eyes he suspected were gray regarded him through mint-tinted contacts.”Yet， he gradually realized that there was nothing behind，because the eyes had already been overcoded by powerful and omnipresent abstract machines. “The eyes of Russian prostitutes” seemed so “flat and doll-like”， simply because they were actually “manufactured” （“a hard assembly-line beauty”）.Here， the “golden rule” is always to invent new seductive “machines” to overcode the desires， to feed those hungry hollow animals: their bodies are already “coveredwith eyes”（35-36）， so many thirsty eyes eager to be manipulated by various faciality machines. If there was a moment when you got the chance of staring into the hollowness of these eyes， this experience could be horribly shocking: “a woman’s eye was directly behind the pink table， a yard wide， her laser-printed pupil the size of Laney’s head.”

Facing this brutal truth， one has two opposite choices: you can choose to work for those capital giants， such as Slitscan， and spend a lifetime programming faces and editing images （“do him”， as Kathy wanted Laney to do）； or， following Laney， you could always choose the other direction and make efforts to get approach to “a larger system， a field of greater perspective”. For Laney， the “nodal points”served as the crucial breakthrough. Though you can never really cut， slice or breach the data flows like Fontana has done on his canvas， it would always be possible for you to change their directions or speeds， re-operate them via different “nomad machines”， or even re-connect them to other heterogeneous series. Though the nodal points aren’t really the black holes through which we somehow manage to“swim”， they still function in the similar way: that is， they always lead to another“informational” dimension.

In this sense， eyes could well serve as the nodal points. There is always something mysterious lying in the eyes: “He looked into her eyes. What sort of computing power did it take to create something like this， something that looked back at you？”Not something hidden， but something different: “The nodal point was different now， though he had no language to describe the change.”

3.“l(fā)andscapity （ paysagéité ）”

Still， there are many other possible ways to escape from those omnipresent faciality-machines. In MP， two basic clues are noticeable: becoming-animal and landscapity. The former refers to a primitive machine which has drawn face/head even deeper back into corporeality； by contrast， the latter refers to the speed-sensitive movement where face has been opened up or re-connected to heterogeneous spatial or temporal dimensions.

In the chapter on faciality， the authors （D&G） mentions the primitive facemachine only twice， and both of the paragraphs seem unessential. The reason might be obvious， for later they will spend a whole chapter （Chapter 10） dealing with becoming-animal and becoming-imperceptible. Yet， the importance of these two paragraphs shouldn’t be underestimated， because their emphasis on “mask”and corporeality could have led us to the new ways of disaggregating face. In primitive societies， a human face （as a partial surface of physical body） is never as important as a handmade mask which has always been circulated in the order of symbolic exchanges. However， in this sense， masks seem even more artificial or “machined” than faces， then how could they succeed in breaking loose from the faciality machines？ Fully aware of this difficulty， D&G has pointed out that we should clearly distinguished the functions of “our uniforms and clothes” from those of the primitive masks: “the former effect a facialization of body”， while the mask assures “the head’s belonging to the body， its becoming-animal”. Yet， this explanation doesn’t seem well-founded within the context. The mask may not be“a facialization of body”， since obviously it has never been designed to cover or codify the whole body. But in exactly what sense can we claim that they belong to the body？ Just imagine an Indian dancing with a mask. Far from being an integrative part of the dancing body， the mask is no more than a supplementary accessory symbolizing some mysterious meanings. Densely codified， the mask should be properly considered as a spare part of the faciality machine， which also means that it has actually shown no real difference from “our uniforms and clothes”.

In this respect， Lévi-Strauss’s masterpiece La Voies des masquesmight help us solve the thorny problem.At the very beginning， Strauss has explicitly emphasized one of the basic doctrines: “Let us assume then， as a working hypothesis， that theshape， color， and features that struck me as characteristic of the Swaihwé masks have no intrinsic meaning， ... these features are inseparable from others to which they are opposed， because they were chosen to characterize a type of mask.”O(jiān)r，as D&G have proposed， the “elementary faciality traits” should be put back into all kinds of abstract machines （“abstract relations”so as to fully reveal their implicit“signification”. Among all the facial traits， eyes occupy the central position. In fact， the dramatic contrast between different “eye-types” （typically “protuberant/ pierced”， or “outward-looking/hollow”has been one of the main threads guiding us into the latent structures. Of course， the difference between Lévi-Strauss’s“structure” and D&G’s “machine” may seem more than obvious. Yet， considered as a kind of “segmentarity” （in D&G’s sense） machine of signification， all these faciality structures would further open up the possibilities of re-connecting and reoperating the traits: “Like a myth， a mask denies as much as it affirms. It is not made solely of what it says or thinks it is saying， but of what it excludes.”

Throughout WM， Strauss has demonstrated， based on detailed field work， the functions of two main categories of machines: “cosmic order” and “social order”（The key point is that the machines from these two different orders are always in the relationship of “concordance”. That is， never could a single machine run all by itself， no matter it is a social one （family， marriage， commerce， etc.） or a cosmic one （natural forces， animals， monsters， human bodies， etc.）. They always tend to“converge”， or to be “articulated”or “gathered”into a heterogeneous but coherent system. In such a system， the mask/face has taken up the central position and become the dynamic core actively organizing different machines around itself.

Such a mask-centered system is essentially an intensive one. That’s why Strauss has sometimes described it using quasi-musical terms: especially the vibrations of earthquakes （as a powerful natural force） which has traversed human body （“the sistrums carried by the dancers”， “the quiveringtwigs”）， animals （“the convulsions gripping the fish （which are linked to underground rumblings and earthquakes）”， as well as the architectural space （“makes the roof shake”； “the shaking tent”）， and finally spreads out to the whole Cosmos （“tremors affecting the sea， the sky， and the earth”）. All these vibrations with different rhythms and speeds converge into the “good dance” of the mask.Here we finally find a tenable reason for D&G’s original assumption that mask belongs to the body. In drawing the body out from its depth， mask hasn’t completely flattened the body and exhausted its forces of becoming.Quite the contrary， it also tends to re-orientate and extend its deepest vibrations to as many directions and dimensions as possible.

Like a primitive mask， the synthetic image of Rei Toei has also been re-operated by different faciality machines. In the earlier sections， we’ve focused on the “social order”: the desire-machines of commerce and popular culture， the love-machine of Rez’s engagement to Toei， etc. But the category of “cosmic order” shouldn’t be overlooked， either. We’ve quoted the beautiful passage depicting the “l(fā)andscape”of her face. Besides the natural spaces， the architectural spaces have also functioned in various ways. For instance， it’s already quite a dramatic scene when Toei suddenly emerged from the shadowy street corners of Venice decompressed （“As the figure in the greatcoat drew toward them ...”， Idoru， 293）， but nothing could compare to those unforgettable shots where her face mirrored， emerged from， or even intertwined with the virtual space of Hak Nam. Laney caught glimpse of this maze-like space through Toei’s eyes: “He was staring up at a looming cliff face that seemed to consist entirely of small rectangular balconies”； at the same time，on another paralleling plot line， Chia suddenly got lost in the same perplexing enormous space: “Accreted patchwork of shallow random balconies， thousands of small windows throwing back blank silver rectangles of fog.”Actually， Hak Namis already a nomad machine connecting and combining heterogeneous spatial forms:“building or biomass or cliff face looming there.”

Yet， following Strauss， we still need to ask how all these machines have converged around the pivotal mask-like face of Toei， the “nodal point”. As mentioned above， the key point is always the rhythm， or more exactly， the rhythms of intensive vibrations — different speeds traversing different scales. Many readers sometimes seem to ignore the plain fact that the main plot of Idoru has been developed around a Rock band. Almost every character in this story （the fans， the mobsters， the businessmen， the hackers） has got involved in the incredible event of the lead singer’s engagement. But this doesn’t mean that Idoru is actually a novel about music， for obviously we’ve learned nothing about the music of Lo/Rez， at least not from the pages. Still， we could read it as a “musical” novel， and the whole story is no less than a masterpiece of Rock music， based on complicated rhythm which has successfully broken down the linear plot pattern at every nodal point. On the surface， the whole story is like an old-school symphony composed of paralleling lyrical lines； but in the deepest intensive chaos， it is an out-and-out sprawling nomad machine， a crazy beatbox mixing up different series with spooky vibrations.

It would definitely be an exciting task to analyze William Gibson’s sophisticated skills of “composition”. Here we’d like to focus on one of them， the most compelling one， that is， the art of simultaneous connecting: feel the vibrations of a series and catch its rhythm， then find the nodal point （for example， the eyes）and connect it to another series while keeping the complicated feed-back effects between them. In old-fashioned science fictions， one always needs to switch from one domain to another. For example， having put on the helmet， you start to lose （or“transform”） your corporeal senses and get immersed into the virtual reality: “That physical thing. Too much time in the virtual， we forget that， don’t we？” （Idoru，255）But now we should learn to always keep in-between （“Interstitial”），that is， stay simultaneously at different scales. Just like an experienced rapper，we try to find our own flow of “l(fā)yrical cadence” echoing the beats and rhythm ofanother series； or like Rez， we see with a “green eye” and a “video-monocle”，at the same time. “And both these armatures， these sculptures in time， were nodal，and grew more so toward the point， the present， where they intertwined ...”

In a word， this is not merely a cheap trick of collage utilized to create a“heterotopian paraspace” （Farnell: 474） where all those fragments and scraps from mainstream society have been left over: “the things abandoned there were like objects out of a dream， bit-mapped fantasies discarded by their creators.”As a matter of fact， it’s more like a “distributed processing”and the basic “axiom” is simultaneously both-and/neither-nor: “on the net and not be on the net.”There is a primitive rhythm full of brutal forces running through the whole story like a deep and vigorous bass line: guns， blood， violence， hysteria， etc. But we can also feel a more ethereal aura flowing along with it. When Chia was half-awake on the flight to Tokyo， she heard Mary Alice’s ghostly voice murmuring some kind of subconscious poetry. That’s the moment when she suddenly fell in this enormous and immersive “aura”:

Chia was suddenly aware of the sheer physical mass of the plane，of the terrible unlikeliness of its passage through space， of its airframe vibrating through frozen night somewhere above the sea， off the coast of Alaska now — impossible but true.（Idoru， 40）

It’s a moment of ambiguity when you don’t really need to make a choice between real/unreal. Just stay in this uncertain interstitial and enjoy the drowsiness of being lost. This doesn’t mean that the nearly suffocating vibrations have terminated all the becoming — quite the contrary. It’s not a moment of stagnation，but actually a nodal point opening up to possibilities of variation （or as Deleuze has defined in Le Pli， the “event-point”）. You seem to be stable， but at the same time you’re also feeling the greatest speed of fuite. “It is a question of speed， even if the movement is in place. ... no longer to look at or into the eyes but to swim through them， to close your own eyes and make your body a beam of light moving at ever-increasing speed.”City of Darkness. City of Light. That’s where we all belong.

Bibliography參考文獻(xiàn)

Bradley， Adam， Book of Rhymes: the Poetics of Hip Hop （New York: Basic Civitas， 2009）.

Deleuze， Gilles and Guatari， Felix， A Thousand Plateaus， trans. Brian Massumi （Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press， 1987）.

Deleuze， Gilles， Cinéma I: L’image-mouvement （Paris: Les éditions de Minuit， 1983）.

Farnell， Ross， “William Gibson’s ‘Architexture’ in ‘Virtual Light’ and ‘Idoru’”， Science Fiction Studies， Vol. 25， No. 3 （Nov.， 1998）.

Gibson， William， Idoru （New York: The Berkeley Publishing Group， 1996）.

Haraway， Donna J.， Simians， Cyborgs， and Women （New York: Routledge， 1991）.

Murphy， Graham， “Post/Humanity and the Interstitial: A Glorification of Possibility in Gibson’s Bridge Sequence”， Science Fiction Studies， Vol. 30， No. 1 （Mar.， 2003）.

Rushkoff， Douglas， Present Shock: When Everything Happens Now （New York: Penguin Group， 2013）.

Strauss， Claude-Levi， The Way of the Masks， trans. Sylvia Modelski （Washington: University of Washington Press， 1988）.

White， Anthony， “Industrial Painting’s Utopias: Lucio Fontana’s ‘Expectations’”， October，Vol. 124， Postwar Italian Art （Spring， 2008）.

“The Gazeless Eyes”: Faciality， Space， and Body in William Gibson’ s Idoru

Yuhui Jiang
（East China Normal University）

Post-humanism is one of the radical trends of thought that emerged at the end of the 20century. The theory of the cyborg （fusion of human and machine） has always been considered its most appealing maxim. On the other hand， the extravagant speculation that accompanies much of its theories must be its most controversial characteristic. However，dreaming about the Future is not what most post-humanists are good at: how to properly read the symptoms of the current situations is their ultimate tenet. Reading William Gibson’s Idoru through the lens of Deleuze and Guattari’s Mille Plateaux， we intend to illustrate the various strategies of nomadism within the context of heterogeneous discourses of near-future anxiety. One of our central concepts is faciality which has been explained along two parallel axes:‘gazeless eyes’ as black holes cutting through the white wall of the desire-machine， and the face-mask as the plane of immanence where different spaces achieve vibrating resonance.

post-humanism； faciality； desire-machine； gazeless eyes； mask

姜宇輝，華東師范大學(xué)哲學(xué)系教授，香港中文大學(xué)訪問(wèn)學(xué)者，研究興趣為當(dāng)代法國(guó)哲學(xué)與藝術(shù)哲學(xué)。電子郵箱： yuhuijiang@126.com