Augustine: Dull Catalogue of Common Things

Dear Athena,

You write to me that "Science has demystified the world." And I am reminded of the melodramatic caution of Keats.

There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:

We know her woof, her texture; she is given 

In the dull catalogue of common things.

Lamia, John Keats (Part 2, II. 231-33)

Keats admonishes the scientific community, claiming they ruin the sense of beauty held by an object. That when we understand something, we no longer appreciate it. Which, really, only causes me to laugh because I imagine the absurdity of thinking that a parent would no longer appreciate their child because they know their genes. I suppose knowing your child's genes does not totally demystify them and may be an unfair comparison. But what if they could? What would be the impact of the rumored eventually of "designer babies"?

To pick not just the sex of the child, but their height, eyes, facial structure, skin tone? After the long pains of labor, would you look at your child with wonder and amazement, or think to yourself "Do I like the features?" Would there be a representative of the Geneticists Inc in the delivery room standing nearby to help debrief the mother?

"Congratulations on your new baby! Now, some quick reminders, traveling through the birth canal will cause some temporary disfiguration, but that will subside in a few days. Some features will be immediately noticeable, such as eye color. Others will be a close approximation, such as the skin tone which is develop in the next few months. Over the course of the next few years we will do yearly facial structure analysis to ensure development is occurring as intended. Your next visit will be at our offices in 1 month for the first body and facial analysis.  Again, congratulations and please don't hesitate to call our offices at Geneticists Inc with any questions."

Once we may have feared the cruel, anonymous, indiscriminate Fates, but what does it mean to grow up; admiring, loving, hating, cursing, and knowing the face of the person who picked your face. Do you love them more for their care in picking your features? Do you feel more loved by them knowing they got exactly what they wanted? In a world of consumerism, do you begin to feel less human and more like your parents doll?

When parents pick their child's race, what does it mean to be part of a community that is black, white, Hispanic, native, Asian?

If we all look like the models our parents wish they were, what becomes our standards of beauty?

But how do you say "no"? If all the other parents are picking their perfect child, will my child hate me if I leave it to the fates?

Control begets power. And responsibility. And liability.

+Augustine