Transhumanist Wager, The (29 page)

An IMN news anchor broke in on the
speech by saying, “Viewers, I feel he's coming to something. Perhaps this is
what the impromptu press conference is really about.”

The President stared into the
camera, his eyes intense.

“My fellow Americans, these are
arduous times. Without jobs, without peace, without common resolve, we are
finding ourselves more at odds with one another than in many decades before.
After much thought, I've decided to address the issue directly, with a massive
new presidential decree that will facilitate us on all fronts. I'm not acting
alone. Under the advice and bipartisan support of many congressional members
and governors around the country, I'm creating the National Future Security
Agency—the NFSA, as many people will come to call it. Its mission will be to
understand the challenging and rapidly changing issues that science and
technology have created in our lives, and to lead us through that understanding
with sane principals and ample national security using protective government
oversight.

“Perhaps as importantly, it will
also provide the country with tens of thousands of new jobs. Jobs that cover a
wide spectrum of society: from secretaries to senior directors; from health
officials to social workers; from researchers to task force agents. The new
agency will be launched with unprecedented amounts of funding to assure the
safety and peace of this country, and helping it to take its place among the
other great establishments of this nation, like the Central Intelligence Agency
and the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

The President continued, discussing
at length the future of the NFSA and how it would consume the National
Association of Health, as well as numerous other government organizations, thus
creating a behemoth of federal administration. He promised the new construction
of impressive headquarters for the agency and better, more compelling ideas and
strategies on moving the country forward through challenging times. He also
assured the people that fair, legal, and unbiased investigations of the
terrorist attacks across the country, including the Cryotask bombing in San
Francisco, would be completed. He implored citizens to take caution in their
reasoning—to not make villains heroes, nor heroes villains. It was an obvious
allusion to Jethro Knights and the ongoing question by many Americans and the
media: Why was he still in jail when he had helped disrupt a terrorist act and
likely saved the lives of numerous innocent people?

Near the end of the press
conference, the President introduced Senator Gregory Michaelson as the man whom
he was appointing to oversee and chair the new National Future Security Agency.
At the podium, Gregory graciously praised the President for his wisdom to
launch workable solutions that both protect people and offer new jobs for them
during the prolonged recession. Gregory revealed that one hundred billion
dollars would be used to create the new agency. There were gasps from the
reporters in front of him, many of whom immediately shot their hands to the
ceiling, salivating with questions.

Around America, the surprise news
conference worked. Analysts throughout the media applauded such a strong
reaction to keep the country functioning smoothly. Excitement stirred in many
citizens. The edgy national milieu was in dire need of something with daring
and  impact. People peered inside themselves and decided they still believed in
their government; that perhaps the nation wasn’t so lost. That perhaps the
outbreak of anger and chaos—what some considered a possible prelude to civil
war—was just small, manageable pockets of discontent. The strong, persuasive
words of the President and Senator Michaelson soothed the American psyche,
which longed for a day with more jobs and less national conflict.

Chapter 18

Jethro Knights spent the next days
writing furiously in his jail cell, mostly from his tiny bed, letting his
stomach and ankle heal. The warden eventually gave him books and a notepad, but
nothing else. There were short daily visits from Preston Langmore, Oliver
Mbaye, and Zoe Bach. Now that Zoe couldn’t spend her days at Cryotask, she
became a liaison for Transhuman Citizen, working from its Palo Alto
headquarters, trying to handle and channel the explosion of the organization's
popularity. She kept Jethro informed of the important news: Seventy million
people had viewed the website; television news shows constantly speculated on
the details of his imprisonment; a full investigation was launched into
Reverend Belinas' involvement with the bombing.

“There's widespread confusion at
your headquarters,” Zoe said to Jethro—steel bars separating them from each
other in the inmate visiting room. “One day the main glass entrance had rocks
thrown through it. The next day hundreds of dollars worth of flowers were put
in front of it. We’ve seen the name “Transhuman Citizen” painted on trains in
Eastern Europe, burned into college football fields in Kansas, and written in
twenty-five-foot letters on Ayers Rock in Australia. There have even been
reports of hats with the TEF infinity logo on them in China.”

“Hats?” Jethro said. “I like that.”
He enjoyed watching Zoe animated.

“Transhuman Citizen has become a
rallying cry for anyone who has problems with religion, big government, and the
backward state of the world. There are groups claiming ties to Transhuman
Citizen popping up everywhere around the globe. It's like wildfire.”

“There's also a horde of people who
want to meet you. Multimillionaire entrepreneurs from Japan. Scientists from Brazil.
Philosophers from Norway. Artists from Thailand. The unread email tally in your
inbox is insane. It’s like you’ve launched something people want to win, even
if they don’t really know why or how.”

Jethro nodded. The plan was
working, albeit recent formation of the National Future Security Agency was a
major worry; otherwise, everything else was blossoming. His main concern was
how to best capitalize on it all. For starters, meeting with the new donors and
entrepreneurs was essential. Transhuman Citizen was going to need money—as much
money as it could garner. Jethro also wanted to begin confronting the nation’s
inadequate educational system as well as the consumption-promoting mass media,
and attempt to change them into forces that facilitate people gaining
transhuman-oriented perspectives. As gargantuan as it was, he believed the task
was essential to bring about lasting cultural shifts in America, so that people
deeply desired evolutionary advancement—not millennia-old religions, nor the
latest new flashy car from Detroit.

But perhaps most exciting of
all—now that there were resources to draw upon—Jethro wanted to fund and
support the science: endless amounts of life extension and human enhancement
research at innovative, ultramodern facilities. He couldn’t be sure what best
path to pursue for transhumanism—he thought machines and downloading
consciousness bore the most promising 100-year future—but everything possible
should be included in the interim.

“Of course, getting out of here,”
Jethro told Zoe, “is my first priority.”

Back in his jail cell, Jethro
considered what criminal convictions Gregory Michaelson might attempt to cast
at him. With Zoe Bach’s written testimony in court hands, where she insisted
that the police ignored the terrorist threat she had initially reported, there
wasn't much they could get him on. Luckily, much of the media was still
defending his actions too.

Inevitably, on the seventh day,
upon the San Francisco judge's orders, Jethro Knights was escorted out of jail
and freed. The politicians in Washington decided it was too difficult and
politically dangerous to legitimately prosecute him for anything. Jethro held a
news conference on the steps of the courthouse. Even though a scar worked its
way across his cheek, and a small limp was still noticeable when he walked, he
appeared strong and cogent to the dozens of reporters and camera persons on
hand. Wearing the new white dress shirt Zoe had bought for him—with its sleeves
rolled far up—he created the impression of a striking, avant-garde
revolutionary ready to take on America and its religious conservatives.

Directly behind Jethro—in clear
view of all the news cameras—was a twelve-foot-long banner held up by
transhumanists. Painted in bright red letters, its message read:

MATHEMATICAL
FACT: The amount of life hours the United States Government is stealing from
its citizens is a million times more than all the American life hours lost in
the Twin Towers tragedy, the AIDS epidemic, and World War II combined. Demand
that your government federally fund transhuman research and nullify
anti-science laws. The average human body can be made to live healthily and
productively until age 150.

With microphones thrust inches from
his face, Jethro passionately began his short speech. He promised the viewing
public that he would help find the originators of the Cryotask terrorist
mission and punish them accordingly. He also promised to keep the search alive
for the killers of Dr. Nathan Cohen. And to fight back against the new
terrorist attacks that were happening daily across the nation to
transhumanists. He warned that no militant anti-transhumanism groups were safe
against Transhuman Citizen and other radical life extension and human
enhancement organizations anymore. Jethro concluded his speech by criticizing
the launch of the NFSA, warning citizens that the government and their new
super security agency were neither to be depended upon nor trusted.

“In fact,” Jethro said, “the NFSA
should be seen for what it is: a massive infringement of people’s individual
freedoms. It's the new stronghold of religious America—its best attempt yet to
keep you from reaching your maximum lifespan and potential as an advanced
entity. Of course, it's also another tax burden this nation doesn't need. The
government has run this country into the dirt. And now they will stop at
nothing to preserve what unconstitutional power they've achieved in the name of
security. We, at Transhuman Citizen, won't let them get away with it. They're
as much the opposition as are the anti-transhumanists with their medieval
philosophies. We must band together and start a superior nation, a superior
world, with our eyes set on the future—with improvement of ourselves, in all
respects, as the most urgent goal.”

The media quoted and replayed the
speech often. The end of the weeklong news spectacle was finally culminating.
Jethro’s cell phone continued to go off non-stop. He put his newly hired
secretary, Janice Mantikas—a hard-working, middle-aged Brazilian woman whom
Preston Langmore handpicked for him—in charge of it. The donation account on
the Transhuman Citizen website reached nine figures. Tens of thousands of
people around the world had made contributions, from one dollar to one million
dollars. Finally, Jethro thought ecstatically, there would be resources to
pursue his stirring ambitions.

************

Reverend Belinas telephoned Senator
Michaelson from his headquarters in Georgia a half hour after Jethro Knights
was released from jail. It was their first communication in three days. Gregory
was in Upstate New York on senatorial business.

“You sure this phone is clean?”
squawked Gregory.

“Of course it is. This is my
personal line.”

“Well, after the Cryotask debacle,
one can’t be sure anymore.”

“It’s clean, I said. Now listen. How
do you feel? I saw you on the front page of the
USA Daily Tribune
again
today. You’re right where you want to be.”

Belinas heard Gregory sigh.

“I’m not so sure of that. Leading
the NFSA can work both ways. There are so many things to consider now—so many
possibilities of a misstep and taking a nasty public fall. Besides, New York
has its share of problems too. I’m only human with how many hours I can
dedicate to everyone and everything, you know.”

“Well, that’s power, Gregory. Get
used to it.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” whimpered the
senator, clearly unconvinced about the benefits of so many new responsibilities
in his life.

“Okay, the first order of
business,” Belinas said, abruptly changing the subject. “We need to get him! We
need to break him, this new transhuman superman in California. He can’t just be
let off the hook. Are you sure you can’t charge him with anything?”

“Him? Huh? What are you talking
about? Who?”

“Come on, Gregory. He’s one of the
devil’s own—Jethro Knights.”

“Jethro? No, he’s just an antisocial
asshole. He always has been, even when I knew him in school. Besides,
technically, we can’t get him on anything. He didn’t really commit any crime.
We had to drop our only charges: trespassing and carrying a weapon. His doctor
girlfriend had a note giving him permission for both on Cryotask property.”

“There must be something else we
can do to nail him.”

“There's not. Trust me, our lawyers
tried. Besides, look at the news. We run the risk of putting a hero in prison.
He told me personally that he's trying to connect you and the President to the
terrorism. There's already an ongoing investigation into you and your church
that I'm trying to smother right now. And let me tell you, it's not easy.
People are asking a lot of questions. You need to temper your feelings. It's
just not worth it right now.”

Reverend Belinas shut his eyes for
a moment, angered by his lack of reach. He forced himself to say, “Okay then,
but we need to watch him closely and try to get him in other ways. I’m sure
he’ll have security around him all the time now.”

“No way, Belinas!” Gregory said
sharply. “Using dubious means is not the answer right now. Let’s just leave the
transhumanists alone for a while, and concentrate on building the NFSA instead.
Work on the big picture. The President doesn't need more heat. Neither do you
and I.”