Late twentieth-century machines have made thoroughly ambiguous the difference between natural and artificial, mind and body, self-developing and externally designed, and many other distinctions that used to apply to organisms and machines. Our machines are disturbingly lively, and we ourselves frighteningly inert.

From this point of view, science - the real game in town - is rhetoric, a series of efforts to persuade relevant social actors that one's manufactured knowledge is a route to a desired form of very objective power.

Why should our bodies end at the skin, or include at best other beings encapsulated by skin?

I’d rather be a cyborg than a goddess.

Feminist objectivity means quite simply situated knowledges

We have all been injured, profoundly. We require regeneration, not rebirth, and the possibilities for our reconstitution include the utopian dream of the hope for a monstrous world without gender.

The cyborg would not recognize the garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust.