Solaris

“According to the earliest calculations, in 500,000 years’ time Solaris would be drawn one half of an astronomical unit nearer to its red sun, and a million years after that would be engulfed by the incandescent star.

A few decades later, however, observations seemed to suggest that the planet’s orbit was in no way subject to the expected variations: it was stable, as stable as the orbit of a planet on our own solar system.”

Here, Lem describes the astrophysical conditions that made scientists interested in Solaris. The laws of physics dictate that Solaris should eventually be consumed by its red sun. However, the planet maintains its stability. Ultimately, some who study Solaris come to believe it is actively deciding not to move.

“For some time there was a widely held notion […] that the thinking ocean of Solaris was a gigantic brain, prodigiously well developed and several million years in advance of our own civilization, a sort of ‘cosmic Yogi,’ a sage, a symbol of omniscience which had long ago understood the vanity of all action and for this reason had retreated into an unbreakable silence.”

When scientists realized Solaris was self-regulating its position between its two suns, they deduced it had to be a living entity. As a result, they seek to test its intelligence and ability to communicate, if a relationship can be established with the ocean.

“I came across a report of experiments already carried out, and learned that, for four days running, Gibarian and Sartorius had submitted the ocean to radiation at a point 1400 miles from the present position of the station. The use of X-rays was banned by a UN convention, because of their harmful effects, and I was certain that no one had sent a request to Earth for authorization to proceed with such experiments.”

Before encountering any visitors, Kris discovers that his mentor, Dr. Gibarian, and Dr. Sartorius conducted an unauthorized bombardment of Solaris’s ocean. These X-rays elicited the visitors’ arrival. The scientists became overwhelmed by the remnants of their pasts, who reappear even when physically destroyed.

“Less than a yard separated us as she passed me, but she did not give me so much as a glance. […] She opened Gibarian’s door and on the threshold her silhouette stood out distinctly against the bright light from inside the room. Then she closed the door behind her and I was alone.”

As Gibarian is dead, there should only be three humans on the station. However, Kris comes across a tall Black woman in the hallway. This is his first encounter with a visitor, something Dr. Snow unsuccessfully tried to prepare him for.

“As I retreated, he was shouting in his falsetto voice: ‘Go away! Go away! I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming! No! No!’ He opened the door and shot inside. […]

Now a muffled clamor rose from the laboratory; a huge shadow appeared as the curtain was brushed momentarily aside; then it fell back into place and I could see nothing more. What was happening inside that room? I heard running footsteps as though a mad chase were in progress, followed by a terrifying crash of broken glass and the sound of a child’s laugh.”

This is Kris’s first observation of a human-visitor interaction, though he doesn’t see this particular visitor. He ascertains that the visitors have a negative impact on the other scientists, sensing this is the reason why Gibarian took his own life. Sartorius is afraid to allow his visitor to be seen, and Snow refuses to discuss what is happening until Kris has a visitor of his own. Having read records of explorers going mad while flying over the ocean, Kris recognizes there are absurd, personal dangers on Solaris that have not been reported.

“If only I could think up some experiment in logic—a key experiment—which would reveal whether I had really gone mad and was a helpless prey to the figments of my imagination, or whether, in spite of their ludicrous improbability, I had been experiencing real events.”

Because of the implausible nature of his recent experiences, Kris must wrestle with the possibility that he has lost touch with reality. However, he still feels hopeless after completing a logical test. This demonstrates The Limitations of Human Intellect, humans’ tendency to evaluate the cosmos according to their limited perspective and standards.

“I leaned over her and turned back the short sleeve of her dress. There, just above her vaccination scar, was a red dot, the mark of a hypodermic needle. I was not really surprised, but my heart gave a lurch.

I touched the red spot with my finger. For years now I had dreamed of it, over and over again, always waking with a shudder to find myself in the same position, doubled up between the crumple sheets—just as I had found her, already growing cold.”

When Kris wakes after his first night at the station and finds his deceased wife, Rheya, sitting on the bed with him, he finally understands why the other scientists are so upset by their visitors. Not only is this Rheya a perfect imitation of his deceased wife at the time of her suicide, but she bears the mark of her overdose, for which he blames himself. This frames the visitors as unfinished business.

“What is the normal man? A man who has never committed to disgraceful act? Maybe, but has he never had an uncontrollable thoughts? Perhaps he hasn’t. But thirty years ago, something which he suppressed and then forgot all about, which he doesn’t fear since he knows he will never allow it to develop and so lead to any action on his part. And now, suddenly, in broad daylight, he comes across this thing... this thought, embodied, riveted to him, indestructible.”

Snow’s description of the potential horror of the visitors goes beyond Kris’s relationship with Rheya, as he suggests fleeting thoughts could manifest as something immortal, something monstrous. Though Rheya fills Kris with remorse, his suffering does not stem from the same fear as Snow and Sartorius—who are implied to kill their visitors.

“We take off into the cosmos, ready for anything: for solitude, for hardship, for exhaustion, death. Modesty forbids us to say so, but there are times when we think pretty well of ourselves. […] At the same time, there is something inside us which we don’t like to face up to, from which we try to protect ourselves, but which nevertheless remains, since we don’t leave Earth in a state of primal innocence. We arrive here as we are in reality, and when the page is turned and that reality is revealed to us—that part of our reality which we prefer to pass over in silence—then we don’t like it anymore.”

In speculating the visitors’ purpose, Snow believes humans envision themselves as altruistic, logical creatures—when in reality, they are biased and vitriolic. Solaris’s ocean likely wants humans to recognize their true nature and deal with their own imperfections before imposing themselves on other planets.

“The following day, Dr. Messenger had talked to Berton for three hours. As a result of this conversation, Messenger had once more begged the expedition Council to undertake the further investigations in order to check the pilot statements. Berton had produced some new and extremely convincing revelations, which Messenger could not divulge unless the council reversed its negative decision. The council—Shannahan, Timolis and Trahier—rejected the motion and the affair was closed.”

This quote comes from the fictional book, The Little Apocrypha, that Gibarian set aside for Kris before taking his own life. The book includes the observations of helicopter pilot Berton, who witnessed the formation of a giant infant—a mimoid—in Solaris’s ocean. However, the review council determined he was hallucinating. Lem uses the council to comment on some researchers’ inability to consider realities beyond their own perceptions.

“In the darkness, I took her by her graceful shoulders. I felt them tremble, and I knew, without the least shadow of doubt, that I held Rheya in my arms. Or rather, I understood in that moment that she was not trying to deceive me; it was I who was deceiving her, since she sincerely believed herself to be Rheya.”

In this quote, Kris realizes his insensitive treatment of Rheya, prompting the question as to why the ocean sent her. Solaris could be trying to punish or redeem him with this second chance. In the end, the answer doesn’t necessarily matter, as Lem suggests the ocean’s intentions are beyond human comprehension.

“Now, let us consider the motivation behind the apparition! It is natural enough to assume, in the first instance, that we are the object of an experiment. When I examine this proposition, the experiment seems to me to be badly designed. […] in the case with which we are concerned, not a single modification has occurred. The Phi-creatures [visitors] reappear exactly as they were, down to the last detail... as vulnerable as before, each time we attempt to... to rid ourselves of them.”

During a three-way video call between the three scientists, Sartorius tries to grasp the nature of the visitors and why Solaris’s ocean sends them. He inadvertently proves the visitors are not part of an experiment conducted by the ocean, as each iteration appears as they were before destruction. In other words, the ocean is likely sending visitors for the benefit of the humans.

“No, you don’t want me. I knew it before, but I pretended not to notice. I thought perhaps I was imagining everything, but it was true... you’ve changed. You’re not being honest with me. You talk about dreams, but it was you who were dreaming, and it was to do with me. You spoke my name as if it repelled you.”

Rheya reveals her awareness of Kris, sensing his disconnect from his past self. This is ironic in that the scientists struggle with the visitors’ unchanging nature. However, Rheya proves she is capable of learning and growth.

“During the early years of exploration, the scientists literally threw themselves upon the mimoids, which were spoken of as the open windows on the ocean and the best opportunity to establish the hoped-for contact between the two civilizations. They were soon forced to admit that there was not the slightest prospect of communication, that the entire process began and ended with the reproduction of forms. The mimoids were a dead end. […]

Anyone who is rational enough to see protuberances that reach as far as two miles into the atmosphere as limbs, might just as well claim that the earthquakes are gymnastics of the Earth’s crust!”

Solaris’s mimoids are constructs that mimic life forms and objects of Earth. This is evidence that the ocean is a living thing, as it replicates things unrelated to its existence. Lem’s mimoids have been adopted outside of Solaris, becoming one of the more famous aspects of the novel. His comment about earthquakes is a jab at humankind’s inability to understand Earth’s own “attempts” to communicate.

“[The] symmetriad is quite unlike anything Earth has ever produced.

The human mind is only capable of absorbing a few things at a time. […] The symmetriad is a million—a billion, rather—raised to the power of N: it is incomprehensible.”

Solaris’s symmetriads, like mimoids, are of Lem’s imagination. These giant structures created by the ocean grow into the sky and can last for minutes or years. Lem implies these complex structures are the planet’s way of dreaming.

“[The] only possible source of vibration must be a shuttle leaving the Station. This thought jerked me back to reality. I had not yet decided to accept Sartorius’s suggestion and leave the Station. By feigning approval of his plan, I had been more or less postponing the outbreak of hostilities, for I was determined to save Rheya. All the same, Sartorius might have some chance of success. He certainly had the advantage of being a qualified physicist, while I was in the ironic position of having to count on the superiority of the ocean.”

Much of the novel’s tension revolves around the human characters’ struggle to deal with the visitors. Kris’s primary concern is understanding Solaris’s ocean and why it manifested Rheya. As for Snow and Sartorius, their goal is to find a way to stop the planet from sending visitors. In this quote, Kris realizes Sartorius has taken his visitor into space to test his method of destroying it. Thus, he is competing with his fellow humans to protect Rheya.

“And now I heard a distant, monotonous voice: ‘... a dilemma that we are not equipped to solve. We are the cause of our own sufferings. The polytheres [visitors] behave strictly as a kind of amplifier of our own thoughts. Any attempt to understand the motivation of these occurrences is blocked by our own anthropomorphism. Where there are no men, there cannot be motives accessible to men.’”

Gibarian, Kris’s deceased mentor, appears to him in a dream to warn him of Snow and Sartorius’s plan to eliminate visitors. Lem implies Solaris’s ocean sent this Gibarian, a visitor. Gibarian’s quote is the clearest expression of Lem’s philosophy, The Limitations of Human Intellect: To Lem, as expressed by Gibarian, humans only understand reality through anthropomorphism when the cosmos isn’t necessarily comprehensible in this way.

“I heard enough to realize that I am not a human being, only an instrument. […] That’s what I am. To study your reactions—something of that sort. Each one of you has a... an instrument like me. We emerge from your memory or your imagination, I can’t say exactly—anyway you know better than I. […] I realized that I was helpless whatever I did, and that I couldn’t avoid torturing you. More than that though, an instrument of torture is passive, like the stone that falls on somebody and kills them. But an instrument of torture which loves you and wishes nothing but good—it was too much for me.”

The longer Rheya is a part of Kris’s life, the more she recognizes she is not the original Rheya but rather a version created by Solaris’s ocean. She knows she will never disappear, because the ocean will simply restore and send her back. While she resembles Rheya, she exceeds the original’s devotion, embodying perfection that cannot be attained by humans.

“Contact means the exchange of specific knowledge, ideas, or at least of findings, definite facts. But what if no exchange is possible? […] And I am trying my hardest to make you realize that I love you. Just your being here cancels out the 12 years of my life that went into the study of Solaris, and I want to keep you.

You may have been sent to torment me, or to make my life happier, or as an instrument ignorant of its function, used like a microscope with me on the slide. Possibly you are here as a token of friendship, or a subtle punishment, or even as a joke. It could be all of those at once, or—which is more probable—something else completely.”

In this quote, in which Kris voices his love for the inhuman Rheya, Lem expresses his counterpoint that humans are not capable of understanding the intentions and actions of Solaris’s ocean. However, Lem states humans can at least respond to the ocean intellectually and emotionally, as befits their limitations.

“Who are you trying to please? Who do you want to save? Yourself? Her? And which version of her? This one or that one? Haven’t you got the guts to face them both? Surely you realize that you haven’t thought it through. Let me tell you one last time, we’re in a situation that is beyond morality.”

In this conversation, Snow pushes Kris to consider what happened to his first visitor, the Rheya launched into space—if she still exists, rather than having been “returned” to Solaris’s ocean. This issue ends up being an incomplete storyline, as readers never discover what happened to the first Rheya—again, if she still exists. Snow taunts Kris with the idea that, should he retrieve the first Rheya, he would have to deal with two identical women, neither of whom is his real wife but both of whom claim true love.

“It was no longer possible to deny the psychic functions of the ocean, no matter how that term might be defined. Certainly it was only too obvious that the ocean had noticed us. […]

Not only that, we had discovered that the ocean was capable of reproducing what we ourselves had never succeeded in creating artificially—a perfect human body, modified in its subatomic structure for purposes we could not guess.

The ocean lived, thought and acted. […] We were truly dealing with the living creature. The lost faculty was not lost at all. All of this now seemed proved beyond doubt.”

Kris has come to answer the questions that have plagued researchers for more than 100 years. At last, he can prove Solaris’s ocean is a living being that can react to and thus interact with humans. He also knows its intelligence is beyond human understanding.

“‘Sartorius built something new, a new destabilizer. A miniature instrument, with a range of a few yards. […] She disappeared. A pop, and a puff of air. That’s all.’

‘She will come back.’

‘No. […] You remember the wings of foam? Since that day they do not come back.’

‘You killed her,’ I whispered.

‘Yes... in my place what else would you have done?’”

This conversation between Kris and Snow takes place the morning after Rheya’s death by suicide. She gives herself up to Snow, knowing Kris will not let her go and leave Solaris otherwise. Since the ocean stopped sending visitors after Kris’s second broadcast, Rheya is gone for good.

“I raised my hand slowly, and the wave, or rather an outcrop of the wave, rose at the same time, enfolding my hand in a translucent cyst with greenish reflections. […] The main body of the wave remained motionless on the shore, surrounding my feet without touching them, like some strange beast patiently waiting for the experiment to finish. A flower had grown out of the ocean, and its calyx was moulded to my fingers. […]

I repeated the game several times, until—as the first experimenter had observed—a wave arrived which avoided me indifferently, as if bored with the too familiar sensation.”

For the first time, Kris interacts with Solaris’s ocean, hoping it will manifest Rheya despite knowing he cannot take her to Earth. As he said to Snow, he has decided the ocean is kind. Lem frames this meeting as two distinct beings sharing a sort of intimacy that should not be possible.