Real

In the desolate, dust-choked world of 1992, where most animal species have been driven to extinction by World War Terminus, the category of "real" — a living, breathing, organic animal — carries an almost sacred weight. It is the ultimate marker of status, moral worth, and empathic connection within the dominant theology of Mercerism. To own a real animal is to prove one's humanity; to be caught with an electric substitute is to risk social ostracism and spiritual isolation. This binary, between the authentic and the artificial, forms the central anxiety and driving motivation for bounty hunter Rick Deckard and defines the ethical landscape of a society clinging to the remnants of life.

The Social and Moral Imperative of the Real

The possession of a real animal is not merely a luxury but a social and moral necessity. The unspoken rule of Deckard's apartment building is that one never inquires about the authenticity of a neighbor's animal, as doing so would be "a worse breach of manners than to inquire whether a citizen's teeth, hair, or internal organs would test out authentic" . This taboo underscores the high stakes: a real animal is proof of one's ability to participate in the empathic fusion of Mercerism. When Deckard reveals his electric sheep to his neighbor Bill Barbour, Barbour's immediate concern is social: "They'll look down on you... they consider it immoral and anti-empathic" . The real animal is the visible, tangible evidence of a person's moral fitness and their connection to the dwindling natural world. Deckard's desperate desire to replace his electric sheep with a real animal is not just a personal whim; it is a quest for social redemption and spiritual validation.

The Electric as Shameful Secret and Tyrannical Object

The electric animal, by contrast, is a source of profound shame and a burdensome secret. Deckard's electric sheep, a sophisticated replica of his deceased real sheep Groucho, requires constant, anxious maintenance to avoid exposure. He confesses to Barbour, "It's a premium job. And I've put as much time and attention into caring for it as I did when it was real. But — It's not the same" (E00088-E00089). The effort is a hollow performance, a tyranny of an object that demands care but offers no genuine reciprocal life. Deckard reflects bitterly on this, realizing that the electric animal "had no ability to appreciate the existence of another" , drawing a direct parallel to the androids he hunts. The electric animal is a subform of the android, a soulless machine that forces its owner into a lie, corroding their sense of self and their place in the moral order.

The Real as a Scarce and Coveted Prize

The scarcity of real animals makes them objects of immense desire and astronomical cost. Deckard's entire professional life as a bounty hunter is oriented toward earning enough bounty money to buy a real animal. After retiring three androids, he immediately uses his three-thousand-dollar bounty as a down payment on a black Nubian goat, a living creature that he hopes will restore his faith in himself and his work . The goat represents a triumph over the artificial, a tangible reward for his violent labor. This desperate need is underscored by the Rosen Association's calculated use of a real owl as a bargaining chip to manipulate Deckard, demonstrating how the desire for the real can be exploited by the powerful . The ultimate prize, however, proves elusive and fragile.

The Fragility of the Real and the Persistence of the Artificial

The novel's climax brutally underscores the vulnerability of the real. In an act of android vengeance, Rachael Rosen kills Deckard's newly acquired goat by pushing it off the roof of his building (E01658-E01662). The real animal, the symbol of his success and moral redemption, is destroyed in an instant, a loss that feels as devastating as the deaths he has caused. In the final, ambiguous scene, Deckard discovers a toad in the desert, believing it to be a real, living creature — a species thought extinct. His joy is immense, but it is immediately shattered when his wife Iran discovers a control panel on its abdomen, revealing it to be an electric imitation (E01757-E01758). The novel ends not with a triumphant discovery of the real, but with a quiet, resigned acceptance of the artificial. Deckard's response — "The electric things have their own lives, too. Paltry as those lives are" — signals a profound shift. The rigid binary between real and electric has collapsed. The value is no longer in the origin of the life, but in the care and meaning invested in it, however paltry. The quest for the real gives way to a more complex, melancholic accommodation with the artificial that now constitutes the world.