A few years ago, the historian of science Adele Clark sought to see the world through a child's eyes and pose the question, “Mommy, where do cyborgs come from?” (in Gray, 1995, p. 139). As one often would when interrupted by a child's nagging questions, the overpowering temptation is to brush it off with a glib answer, perhaps something dismissive like: “Other cyborgs.” But if one instead begins to appreciate the responsibilities of parental obligation, the temptation shifts to a different plane, that of providing a nominally correct but semantically empty answer, perhaps something concerning the “enclaves” about which Wiener wrote. Those enclaves sound an awful lot like incubators: they are closed rooms where pressure and temperature are maintained at homeostatic levels conducive to embryonic life. Yet someone must be there to maintain that temperature and pressure; they had to convey the germs of life there from outside the closed room; and someone else had to install the boxes there in the first place. Genealogies are a tricky business, almost as tricky as life itself, frequently threatening to succumb to entropic degradation.