Kristina Neos
The exploration of Artificial Intelligence and The Xenogenesis Trilogy by Octavia Butler
has driven me to think about real-world issues differently than before this course. At the
beginning of the semester, I kept the two big topics separate in my mind. On one side, I had
Butler’s unsettling sci-fi story about aliens, consent, and humanity. On the other side, I was
thinking about artificial intelligence and how it could transform our world for the better. I was more excited about the possibilities of AI, especially in medicine and education. And I was disturbed by Dawn, the first book in Butler’s trilogy, where humans are saved by aliens in ways that feel more like domination and tyranny than help. As I read further into the trilogy and reflected on our class discussions, I realized that Butler’s vision was not just a distant, speculative warning, but a literal mirror to the ethical challenges we face today with AI. It became extremely clear that both the Oankali and AI technologies, while presented as forces of progress, often come with hidden issues of autonomy and self-determination.
In my Butler Trouble essay, I focused on how the Oankali, the alien species in Dawn,
control human futures through genetic manipulation. At first, this is strictly pure as a dystopian violation of autonomy and restriction of fundamental human rights. The Oankali insisted, “We must do it, it renews us, enables us to survive as an evolving species” (Dawn, 43). Initially, this sounded like a noble mission, a way to avoid extinction and continue the population. But as time went on and we read the rest of the trilogy and explored the real intentions, it reminded me more of the ways AI is sometimes stationed in our world today. In my AI-inspired essay, I celebrated AI’s potential to replace our futures for good. But I now see that I was mostly focused on the benefits, not the boundaries. Butler’s portrayal of the Oankali made me reconsider the hidden costs of help when it is offered without any agency or choice.
One of the most unsettling parallels between the Oankali and AI is how both offer “help”
that interferes with consent. In Dawn, Lilith is awakened by the Oankali after Earth’s destruction and told she must prepare other humans to join this new way of hybrid life. We see Lilith question, resist, and hesitate, but ultimately, she with no other option if she wants to survive or succeed. The Oankali present their decisions as the only way and superior to everything else. This made me think of the algorithmic systems we have spoken about in class that are framed as inevitable to humanity. I am referring to automated hiring tools, surveillance technologies, or any form of artificial intelligence in this regard. These systems are sold as optimization but often come with the unspoken assumption that their creator knows best and inevitably benefits and saves humanity. In the article we read at the beginning of the course, The New Artificial Intelligentsia, Ruha Benjamin explores this idea of AI being portrayed as the savior and not the issue. She mentions, “Gebru and Torres explain that the discriminatory attitudes of past eugenicists (racism, xenophobia, classism, ableism, and sexism) remain widespread within the AGI movement, resulting in systems that harm marginalized groups and centralize power under the guise of “safety” and “benefiting humanity” (Benjamin, 2024). She argues that AI is not just a tool but a system that reshapes society, often reinforcing existing power imbalances. Who controls these systems? Who benefits the most?
As I moved deeper into Butler’s trilogy, my perspective on AI also shifted. In Adulthood
Rites, we see Akin, Lilith’s human-Oankali child, struggle to bridge the gap between species. He has the potential to bring true understanding between humans and Oankali, but is constantly aware of the weight of his hybrid identity, the ways his existence challenges the boundaries of consent and freedom. This reminded me of the ways AI often presents itself as a bridge between consumers and its products, but rarely questions who makes these types of connections. Akin’s journey in Adulthood Rites felt like a cautionary tale for our present day, a reminder that being a bridge can also mean being pulled in many directions, misunderstood, and often at times, sacrificed for a broader image of progress for others.
In Imago, the final book, we meet Jodah, a being who is both human and Oankali,
something truly new. Jodahs offers a different kind of hope, one that isn’t just about dominating or assimilating but learning and adapting. Judas says, “It continued to focus on me silently. There were times when I envied Humans their ability to shut off their sight by closing their eyes, shut off their understanding by some conscious act of denial that was beyond me” (Imago, 27). This longing for a more human way of perceiving the world reflects the tension in Jodahs hybrid identity, something that cannot understand the complex and often painful truths it is built to perceive. In this, Jodahs presents a broader image of progress, one that sacrifices the comfort of simplicity for a deeper, more interconnected understanding of life, crossing the line between survival and transformation. This line feels like a challenge to the current trajectory of AI development. I realize now that my initial excitement about AI, like my initial discomfort with the Oankali, came from a place of desire and hope for clear solutions to complex problems. But neither Butler’s trilogy nor the real-world technology we have discussed this semester offers clear solutions. Both demand a more informative, nuanced approach to hope. A hope that includes listening and accepting that not all help is possible or helpful.
Octavia Butler’s Lilith’s Brood offers a profoundly hopeful vision of transformation,
where survival depends not just on strength but on learning. Butler’s work is inspiring because it imagines a world where transformation is not a loss but a creative act that is always becoming. We see in Dawn, Lilith rises from captivity to become a leader, transforming both herself and others through acts of resilience. She shows that survival is not merely endurance but a form of rebirth, a way to transform herself into something new instead of the old. In Imago, Jodahs represents the next step in this rebirth and evolution, a being that can blend the boundaries of human and alien, becoming a recurring symbol of hope for what humanity might become if it chooses to embrace change. Jodah embodies this vision, and it reflects the awareness and ability for Jodah to confront the real understanding of life. Along with this, Adulthood Rites, Akin similarly challenges the fear of difference, recognizing that guinea survival requires not just the preservation of one’s kind but the willingness to evolve along with others. This sense of hope extends beyond the fictional world Butler creates. It speaks to our world, where rapid technological changes demand that we learn to adapt to and rethink what it means to be a human. Like the hybrid beings in her stories, we too must learn to navigate the unfamiliar, to find strength in difference, and to resist the urge to retreat into fear. In this way, Butler’s work remains
a powerful tool and an example to embrace transformation as a path to survival and more to be an interconnected world.
As I’ve learned more about AI this semester, my initial excitement has become tempered
by a growing awareness of its deeply unsettling potential. The Subprime AI Crisis draws a
troubling parallel to the 2008 financial collapse, revealing how poorly designed algorithms can create cascading failures with real human consequences. Like the Oankali in the trilogy, AI systems can lock people into paths they never chose, optimizing for corporate gain over human well-being. These systems often amplify the very biases they claim to solve, like predictive policing tools that reinforce racial disparities. Medical algorithms, too, have been shown to fail communities of color, misrepresenting their needs and leading to poorer health outcomes. As we focused deeply on the work of Dr. Joy Buolamwini, Unmasking AI: My Mission to Protect What Is Human in a World of Machines, I’ve uncovered the severe letdown AI has done to underrepresented communities and marginalized groups of people. She reveals the unsettling truth that AI systems often struggle to recognize and fairly represent people of color, exposing the racial biases embedded in the very data used to train them. Dr. Buolamwini describes Olay’s original facial recognition technology as “was created and designed by one demographic, which is only mostly effective on that one demographic”. This is the darker side of the metaphor I’ve been conflicted with. AI promises connection and progress, but has become a tool of domination that reinforces existing power structures while claiming to be fair and inclusive. AI has outweighed the positives with hurtful and harmful negatives that will leave everlasting effects on
future generations.
By the end of this course, I no longer see Butler and AI as two separate subjects. They
have joined together in my thinking, challenging me to reconsider what I used to think of as
“help.” I used to believe that progress meant efficiency, problem-solving, and innovation. But now I see that true progress must also involve strength, hardship, and the ability to accept “no” as an answer. Whether it’s an alien species or an artificial system, the desire to help must always be balanced by the willingness to step back, to share power, to let go of control. I feel like this is a commonly hard thing to do for humans, for Oankali, and the creators of AI. But, it might be the only way to move forward without losing our humanity. I truly don’t know exactly where I stand, and maybe that’s okay. What matters is that I’m still thinking, still wondering, and still asking who gets to decide and who gets to choose.