66 pages • 2 hours read
Catherine FisherIncarceron
Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2007A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Themes
The Ambiguity of Imprisonment and Freedom
In Incarceron, imprisonment and freedom are such complex concepts that the distinction between them is almost impossible for the characters to parse. In conventional thought, imprisonment and freedom are opposites; imprisonment means being confined in a restrictive space with limited rights and privileges, whereas freedom means having the power to move around at will and exercise personal rights and choices. Catherine Fisher complicates both concepts and raises the question of whether any character is truly “free,” regardless of whether they are inside or outside the prison. The author also illustrates the many different forms that imprisonment can take, for while Finn and his companions suffer physical confinement, Claudia finds herself confined by intangible injustices and limitations such as the potentially lifelong “prison” of an arranged marriage.
Although it technically fits the conventional definition of a prison, Incarceron is unique, for although some inmates are initially placed in cells, they can escape and move around relatively freely within the prison. Additionally, the prison itself is so extensive and varied that the inmates think of it as a “world.” Although inmate activities are constantly monitored by the prison and, to some extent, by the Warden, no official human guards work at the prison, and Incarceron seldom interferes with inmate activities. As a result, the inmates murder, rob, enslave, and abuse each other without repercussions. Incarceron insists that its purpose is not to correct or rehabilitate inmates, but simply to contain them. In Incarceron, everyone has a life sentence, and escape is nearly impossible. However, inmates have certain freedoms that are not afforded to inmates in real-life prisons, such as relative freedom of movement, the ability to dictate their own schedules and social circles, and even the latitude to commit crimes. Despite these “freedoms,” most inmates would leave if they could because Incarceron is plagued by violence, disease, poverty, and inequality. In fact, many of Incarceron’s problems stem from the absence of guards, oversight, and rules. The free-for-all that is allowed to unfold inside Incarceron may present privileges to some inmates, but others are enslaved, killed, or robbed of essential resources, rendering them even less “free” than they would be in a regular prison. Furthermore, the near-impossibility of escape exacerbates the psychological effects of imprisonment because the inmates can only hope and plan for a limited number of possibilities.
Ironically, the “Outside” society encapsulating Incarceron is just as corrupt, restrictive, and plagued by misinformation as the prison itself, and the author emphasizes this point in order to raise the question of how “free” the society’s citizens truly are. Even Claudia and Caspar, who are among society’s wealthiest and most privileged members, are restricted in their choices, behaviors, clothing, and places of residence. Their marriage is arranged, and although they dislike each other and dread the prospect of a future together, they have no say in the matter unless they want to endanger their own lives. Significantly, Jared refers to Queen Sia’s palace as his and Claudia’s “prison,” and listening devices surveil their words to prevent them from plotting together or even voicing ideas that are considered intellectually dangerous. As far as they know, there is no wall around the outside world like there is around Incarceron, but the non-incarcerated characters are bound by convention, law, and duty so that they cannot move around freely or make their own choices.
The frustration of this existence is reflected in Claudia’s wish that she could “escape into the peace of the empty land. Somewhere no one else would be. Somewhere she would be free” (229). Claudia’s longing for escape mirrors Finn’s, even though she is not inside a literal prison; this dynamic complicates the concepts of incarceration and freedom. As Lord Evian reflects, “We are rich…but we are not free. We are chained hand and foot by Protocol, enslaved to a static, empty world…We must break open this cell we have bricked ourselves into, escape from this endless wheel we tread like rats” (243). Beyond Incarceron, even the wealthiest members of court must constantly put on an act, play a political “game,” and conceal their true feelings and desires, all while denying themselves access to modern technologies, medicines, and knowledge in accordance with the law. Upon learning the state of affairs beyond the prison, Attia worries that “[Claudia] might just be taking [Finn] out of one prison into another” (415). Thus, every character in Incarceron is imprisoned in some ways and free in others, whether they are literally incarcerated or not.
The Dangers of Romanticizing the Past
Incarceron takes place in a futuristic society in which technology, science, and medicine have advanced far beyond the capabilities of real life in the present day. However, most of these technologies and advancements have been outlawed for generations because a former king believed that modern life had become too complicated, to the detriment of human well-being. Now, all possessions, practices, and ideas must be “Era”; that is, they must have their origins in a bygone historical period and must adhere to “protocol.” The justification for this restriction is explained in King Endor’s paradoxical decree, in which he states, “We forbid growth and therefore decay. Ambition, and therefore despair. Because each is only the warped reflection of the other. Above all, Time is forbidden. From now on nothing will change” (171). For generations, the royal family has upheld the same ideological stance, restricting which technologies and pieces of knowledge are allowed to be used. Endor argued that the past was a simpler, happier time, and that advanced technologies and knowledge have only brought pain and turmoil to humankind. Although the past is romanticized and the royals attempt to bring it back to life, this bygone Era is deeply misunderstood and cannot be replicated in modern times. The government’s romanticization of the past does not improve human life; instead, these policies spread misinformation, keep true knowledge hidden, and prevent access to useful tools and life-saving medical treatments.
King Endor attempted to stop time, thereby outlawing progress and change, but this endeavor was inevitably more harmful than helpful. As Lord Evian reflects, “We are chained […] by Protocol […] […] Nothing is new...Nothing changes, nothing grows, evolves, develops” (243). Many texts with more recent knowledge have been destroyed or hidden to curtail access to these so-called “dangerous” ideas that allegedly harmed society. However, limiting access to knowledge allowed for the spread of misinformation, and in the novel’s narrative present, this ruinous process has allowed even more dangerous ideas to circulate, such as the idea that Incarceron is a paradise rather than the sentient hellscape it has become. Outlawing modern technologies was meant to return society to a “simpler” lifestyle wherein they could embrace basic joys without the needless complexity and confusion caused by overdeveloped electronics. Of course, as Evian points out, many wealthier people still possess objects that are against protocol, and this aspect of the novel highlights the fact that powerful people can easily escape the limitations of laws that restrict the lives of the people they control. This dynamic creates another degree of inequality and does not simplify or enhance the quality of life. This problem is exacerbated because Incarceron runs on advanced technologies that are not Era, yet the prison is legally sanctioned and is also regarded by outsiders as a “utopia.” The outlawing of modern technologies therefore leaves everyone confused because of the glaring contradictions in the dominant ideology. The laws exacerbate inequality and limit access to education, medicine, and leisure time, worsening the problems they were supposed to alleviate.
Perhaps the most obvious danger of romanticizing the past lies in restricting access to modern medicine and medical knowledge. Characters suffer and even die from diseases and complications that could have been easily treated if the Era laws did not exist. For example, the Warden’s wife dies in childbirth, and the baby dies shortly afterward because the medical practices that could have saved them were outlawed in the name of “improving” human well-being. These deaths highlight the dangers of romanticizing the past and emphasize the bizarre contradictions of the claim that limiting access to technologies and knowledge will somehow improve human life.
The Use and Abuse of Technology
The fact that King Endor’s decree outlawed most modern technologies suggests that the royals were aware of the potential dangers associated with the misuse of technology. However, the abuse of technology is still prevalent throughout the novel, for although the majority of the population is banned from using technological devices, societal elites still have full access to such tool and suffer no repercussions for utilizing them unethically. Furthermore, the general ban on modern technology prevents the appropriate use of helpful technologies such as washing machines, photographs, DNA tests, and medical devices. The author uses these patterns to deliver a more nuanced argument about technology, suggesting that although an outright ban on all modern technologies is dangerous, some technologies can often be abused by people with dishonorable intentions. The author also takes this argument one step further into the realm of speculation, for the innate misery of the sentient Incarceron implies that the abuse of technology may one day harm technological entities in addition to people. Thus, the novel is designed to explore the as-yet-unresolved ethical issues surrounding the development of advanced technologies such as artificial intelligence.
While the novel celebrates the usefulness and necessity of certain technologies, it also cautions against the potential abuse of other technologies, because some devices can be used to aid in crimes and the spread of misinformation. Within the context of the novel, the problem is not necessarily with the piece of technology itself, but with how different humans choose to use the technology. For example, one device called a “skinwand” allows people to alter their appearance to suit their desires, such as to reduce wrinkles as they age. Although this usage runs the risk of perpetuating ageist and sexist beauty standards, the novel never suggests that the use of skinwands is inherently evil. Instead, skinwands, when used as intended, are similar to beauty products that already exist in real life, such as cosmetics and anti-aging creams. However, Queen Sia also uses a skinwand to fake her stepson Giles’s death and wrongly imprison him in Incarceron; she alters the face of another unknown, dead boy and tricks nearly everyone into believing that the boy is Giles. This misuse of an ostensibly benign technology allows her to conduct complex political intrigue by attempting to install her own son, Caspar, onto the throne. Technology is not always used as intended, and new technologies often present people with new ways to commit crimes or misdeeds.
The technology behind Incarceron is also misused, resulting in widespread harm against human inmates and the spread of misinformation amongst outsiders. Incarceron is a sentient machine akin to advanced artificial intelligence. Originally, Incarceron was intended to be a utopia with free education, universal healthcare, and no social issues. However, once confronted with the impossibility of such goals, Incarceron exercises its own free will and decides to allow inmates to commit murders, robbery, enslavement, and abuse towards each other with few repercussions. Faced with the unrealistic imperatives of its creators, the prison modifies its own mission to simply prevent people from escaping, no matter how horrific its environment dystopia becomes. This shift illustrates the ways in which technology can perpetuate abuse when humans lose control of it.
Just as important is the novel’s commentary on the ways in which abuses might one day be committed against sentient technology. As an advanced form of A.I., Incarceron is not human, but it is humanlike, insofar as it experiences emotions, desires, preferences, and opinions. Humans force Incarceron to do the work of the prison system without any form of compensation; furthermore, it has no choice in the matter. As the plot unfolds, the author reveals that Incarceron is ironically just as dissatisfied as its inmates and feels imprisoned in a role that it has no wish to fulfill. As it tells Claudia, “It is not only the inmates who dream of Escape, Claudia. But then, how can I escape from myself?” (391). Incarceron plays the role of a villain for much of the text, but it is also a victim of the same abusive systems that harm inmates and outsiders alike. Incarceron’s very existence therefore illustrates the potential for abusing artificial intelligence to the detriment of other humans and of A.I. itself.
The Distinction Between Appearances and Reality
In Incarceron, nothing is entirely what it seems to be, and appearances cannot be trusted. Some characters even have multiple identities and names, tricking others (and sometimes being tricked themselves) into believing that they are someone else. Other characters use physical disguises to mislead others, commit crimes, or evade danger. Still others are honest about their names and physical appearances but follow the unspoken rules of an elaborate political game, hiding their true feelings, intentions, and desires. At times, technologies assist characters in deceiving others. Even the prison itself is another avenue through which the author explores the difference between appearances and reality, because most characters fail to comprehend its true nature.
Both Warden John Arlex and Finn have secret, alternate identities, and this missing information prevents other characters from understanding the true nature of their reality. The Warden masquerades as “Blaize,” a Sapient inmate who rescues Finn and his friends from the monster, then feeds and shelters them while they prepare to complete their escape from Incarceron. Blaize appears helpful at first, but when he tries to poison them, he demonstrates the extent of his duplicity—and by extension, the duplicity of their entire world. The Warden can make Blaize appear inside the prison without even physically entering it, which further demonstrates how many phenomena that appear “real” are merely illusions. While the Warden’s subterfuge is deliberate, Finn’s false identity is imposed upon him due to the duplicitous nature of the society beyond Incarceron’s boundaries. Although he is actually Giles, the lost prince of the Realm, he remains unaware of this until Claudia discovers it. This illustrates how appearances may be so deceiving that characters can be wrong about anything, including their own identities.
Physical disguises further emphasize the distinction between appearances and reality. Sia tricks everyone into thinking Giles is dead by using a “skinwand” to morph the face of an unknown, dead teenager to resemble Giles’s face. The body is seen as irrefutable proof that Giles is dead. While enslaved, Attia piles on layers of rags and alters her voice to conceal her gender, and she also attaches fake sores to make it seem like she has a contagious disease. While she wears the disguise, everyone avoids her and refers to her as “it,” which serves her well because it keeps her relatively safe. Lastly, Keiro is secretly a “half-man,” or a person made partially of organic material and partially of metal. While many half-men have obvious metal appendages, Keiro looks the same as his wholly organic friends. He also frequently talks about how much he hates half-men, which prevents others from questioning whether he might be one himself. While the characters often take physical appearances as proof of the truth, these examples illustrate how easily perception can misrepresent reality.
Even characters who do not have a fake identity, name, or appearance still illustrate many subtler ways in which perception can be unreliable. For example, Claudia notices that because most people at court conform to the rules of etiquette, it is difficult to “read” an individual’s true intentions, feelings, or desires. As the narrative states, “She knew that all the Court was like [Lord Evian], that behind its perfumed and elaborate facade lurked a web of hatreds and secret murders, and […] to survive it she must be as hard as they were” (368). Claudia’s bitter contemplations reveal that the intricate world of etiquette and propriety can be just as dangerous as more overt threats, for this society is designed to mask the often violent, evil, and even murderous intentions of its participants. Because Evian acts kind, polite, and somewhat bumbling, most people fail to suspect that he is plotting to murder Sia and Caspar.
Incarceron is also not what it seems, either to its inhabitants or to those living outside it. Inmates believe the prison is massive because it houses so many people, but in reality, the whole thing (including its human contents) is shrunken and fits on a charm on the Warden’s watch. Outsiders are told that Incarceron is a “utopia” that is even better than the outside world. This lie perpetuates the false belief that the prison is not a “prison” at all, when in reality, it is an inescapable house of horrors that far transcends the mundane reality of a traditional prison. Overall, the novel crafts varied examples of how perception and appearances can never be taken at face value.
