The Adoration of Jenna Fox implicitly argues that a person’s “humanity” should be defined by their moral worth rather than by their biology. The science-fiction novel makes this argument through two characters, protagonist Jenna Fox and antagonist Dane. Jenna is essentially a cyborg: after a traumatic car accident and subsequent runaway infections destroyed all but 10 percent of her brain tissue, Jenna was rebuilt by her biotech-pioneer father using a neurochip-loaded goo called Bio Gel. When the recovering Jenna discovers that the majority of her body is prosthetic or biotechnological, she starts worrying that she is no longer a human being. By contrast, her new neighbor Dane is entirely human biologically, yet various characters note that he is “missing something” morally: he regularly engages in violent, destructive, antisocial behavior for no apparent reason. After several disturbing interactions with him, Jenna begins to speculate that he is a psychopath, unable to care for any human being other than himself.
When Jenna discovers that her father uploaded the minds of her old friends Kara and Locke, who died in the same car accident that traumatized her physically, to a hellish suspended animation so that they can serve as “witnesses” that Jenna isn’t responsible for their deaths in case the authorities attempt to prosecute Jenna, Jenna realizes that her friends are suffering—but that someone like Dane would allow them to stay in suspended animation to protect himself anyway. Jenna ultimately proves her “moral” humanity by destroying the uploads, rescuing her friends from endless torment while potentially exposing herself to prosecution. In this way, the novel suggests that the true mark of humanity is a person’s morality and their actions, rather than their biological makeup.
Humanity ThemeTracker
Humanity Quotes in The Adoration of Jenna Fox
I used to be someone.
Someone named Jenna Fox.
That’s what they tell me. But I am more than a name. More than they tell me. More than the facts and statistics they fill me with. More than the video clips they make me watch.
More. But I’m not sure what.
“It was a private journey as much as a public one. He was searching for his personal essence as much as he was making a political statement.”
“He’s missing something. I mean, really missing something[.]”
“You have to draw the line somewhere, don’t you? Medical costs are a terrible economic drain on society, not to mention the ethics involved. And by restricting how much can be replaced or enhanced, the FSEB knows you are more human than lab creation. We don’t want a lot of half-human lab pets crawling all around the world, do we?”
“So it’s not human skin.”
“It is human. Completely human. We’ve been genetically altering plants and animals for years. It’s nothing new. Tomatoes, for instance. We engineer them to withstand certain pests or to give them a longer shelf life, but it is still one hundred percent a tomato.”
“I am not a tomato.”
“I’m a doctor, Jenna. And a scientist.”
“Does that make you an authority on everything? What about a soul, Father? When you were so busy implanting all your neutral chips, did you think about that?”
I’ve heard about sociopaths, people who connect with no one but themselves and their own self-interests. That would be Dane.
“They aren’t perfect, but none of us are ever exactly what we want to be, right?”
Is there such a thing? A real Jenna? Or was the old me always waiting to be someone else, too?
Without knowing it, she called me a lab pet. Why am I so drawn to someone who could destroy me? Why do I need her to be my friend?
The dictionary says my identity should be all about being separate or distinct, and yet it feels like it is so wrapped up in others.
I look at my hands. Trembling. A battle between neurochip and neuron, survival and sacrifice.
Would the old Jenna have jeopardized her future for the sake of someone else?
“How can you know?” I ask.
“Some things aren’t meant to be known. Only believed.”



