Transhumanist Wager, The (5 page)

Belinas was the self-appointed
leader of Redeem Church, the fastest growing religious trend in America.
Besides its quasi-evangelical Christian practices and loud anti-transhumanist
agenda, his church was increasingly known for its strong governmental ties and
massive financial resources. People trusted Belinas with their money and power
because of his unequivocal faith in God, his unblemished piety, and his intense
devotion to the world’s poor. He was, as the media often reported, “an
authentic Christian leader who takes orders directly from the Lord—and no one
else.”

Walking through the crowd he saw a
disfigured paraplegic man in a wheelchair, holding a sign:
FAITH IN GOD—NOT
TRANSHUMAN SCIENCE
.

Belinas stopped, knelt on one knee,
and prayed with him, tightly clasping the man’s hands. The crowd around them
went silent for thirty seconds, until they finished. Then the preacher was on
his way again, hurrying up the steps to the rotunda, a determined look in his
eyes. Behind him the crowd waved and cheered.

The motorcade for the President of
the United States arrived last, ten minutes late. Spectators clapped and
whistled. Others cursed and yelled. Some simply watched, unsure of what to
think or feel. The President, surrounded by tall Secret Service men, waved
casually to the people as he climbed out of his vehicle and walked towards the
rotunda. The Leader of the Free World bore a bemused smile.

Inside the rotunda were forty
narrow tables with three chairs apiece, loosely arranged in a circular format
by quarter sections. Each table had a microphones on it. The President,
senators, and various governors, as well as the university chancellor, sat near
the north wall in one section. A huge, imposing American flag hung behind them.
Another fourth of the tables were occupied by clergymen, anti-transhumanist
group leaders, and preachers like Reverend Belinas. In the third section sat
thirty-five students, professors, and business people who were included to give
the event a town hall feel.

In the last section was a small
team of transhumanists: two robotic designers, a geneticist, a cryonics
specialist, a cyborg technologist, a longevity scientist, a virologist, a
cloning expert, a biotech ethicist, and an artificial intelligence programmer.
Representing them were Dr. Preston Langmore and Dr. Nathan Cohen. Towering
behind this group was a squad of eight-foot-tall bronze statues: Roman soldiers
bearing spears; they were part of the building’s historical decor. It made the
transhumanists appear as if they were under guard and on trial.

Scattered everywhere else in the
rotunda, both kneeling and standing, were news teams with their equipment.

The university chancellor grabbed
his microphone and stood up, loudly clearing his throat. The inside of the
noisy rotunda quickly came to order.

“Good afternoon, ladies and
gentleman. It is with great honor that I welcome the President of the United
States, our esteemed senators and governors, and other guests, to our town hall
forum at Victoria University.”

There was clapping in the audience
and flashes from reporters’ cameras.

“We have all come here together
today to discuss the future of technology and science for our country's safety
and civil order as it relates to transhuman ideas, and to give pause as we
carefully consider concepts that have the power to forever alter the human race
for better—or possibly for far worse.”

The chancellor continued his
opening speech, meandering through carefully crafted sentences, lauding the
current administration’s running of the country, while subtly cautioning it
against social upheaval created by transhumanism. When he turned the floor over
to the Senator from Kansas, the short, obese politician reiterated the same
generalities, the same embellishments over the handling of the country's
welfare, and the same insistence on a conservative methodology when dealing
with anything unorthodox—such as transhuman science.

“America must remain a responsible,
cautious, and slowly adapting country,” said the senator, bumbling on. “These
are truly challenging social times that call for patience from all walks of
life in our great and diversified land.”

Afterward, still another official,
Senator Shuman from Texas, reached for his microphone and repeated the same
bland cautionary statements as the former speakers, smiling broadly for the
constant photographs being snapped.

Jethro Knights and Gregory Michaelson
sat with other invited philosophy students, watching. Jethro was anxious to
hear what changes and conclusions the forum would bring about. Obviously,
leaders of the government wanted to stop terrorism across the country and let
transhuman scientists improve the human condition, Jethro assumed. He knew this
forum was being heralded as a breakthrough moment for the transhuman movement.
After the landmine incident in the Congo—something he replayed daily in his
head—he felt more strongly than ever that he was going to dedicate all his
life’s energy to this movement's success. He was excited to be there that
evening.

 Jethro waited in his seat, his
eyes fixed on the famous speakers to say something, to do something, for the
government to step up and announce important policy changes and brave new
directions—so the country could embrace the future, and science could lead the
way forward. Human advancement via applied science and technology was obvious,
wasn't it? Everyone wanted to better themselves and become the best they could
be, now that modern technology was so powerful and capable. It was the only
rational path conscious entities immersed in evolution could take.

But those speeches did not come.
Instead, he heard empty words, empty meanings, like an absurdly long drawn-out
handshake, designed to give the effect of playing nice and hoping for the best,
but without ever grabbing hold of anything substantial to shake. He heard the
words,
God, peace, unity, decency, equality, caution, responsibility,
and
faith
mentioned many times, sometimes twice in the same sentence. He heard
talk of everyone moving together as one society, as one culture, and deciding
slowly—for our children, for our grandchildren—where we wanted to go as a
people, as a nation. The substance of the speeches was less than tangible, less
than conclusive. It was borderline pathological gibberish. Was no one going to
stand up and say something real? Even if it was to deeply criticize
transhumanism?

Jethro looked around at the blank
faces and wondered if only
he
noticed this. Everyone frolicked, smiling
for their constituencies, the public, and the press—comfortable only to say
nothing controversial. Jethro looked at the town hall forum brochure he had
received at the door and saw that fourteen of the sixteen statespersons present
were lawyers, including the President. Where were the philosopher rulers? All
he saw was the pettifoggers—many of whom had never created a damn thing in
their lives, he thought. Many of whom had never taken a brave step alone
anywhere. Many of whom had never had an independent thought on anything. The
same damn ones fronting special interest groups and not the nation’s people and
their highest interests. Deep inside Jethro, a dreadful feeling dawned, a
feeling that further spoiled his belief in the American system and its
government, which were strangling transhumanism.

Gregory Michaelson felt poles apart
from Jethro. He was at home with the speeches. The Texas Senator's meandering
voice was pleasant and soothing. Gregory yawned, noticing the gray suit the
politician wore—possibly a recommendation of his father’s. He was a good friend
of the family’s, after all. It didn’t fit him that well, though, Gregory
thought. He's old and his shoulders can’t hold up good suits anymore, at least
not without custom tailoring. What a pity to lose style. Now the U.S.
President—whom he personally met twice before—sat there coolly, as if on a
beach in the Cayman Islands. He wore a solid Italian suit with gold cuffs. Very
classy, yet just conservative enough. On the other hand, his expression could
use some work, thought Gregory, smiling with mock approval. He's betraying too
much boredom. He's probably thinking about the basketball lineup for the
college playoff games this coming weekend. South Carolina versus Indiana.
Arizona versus Oregon. And why not? Gregory was doing the same, even though his
logic final was tomorrow, the last of his tests before next week's graduation.

For a moment, Gregory considered
why everyone was at this much-hyped forum. Truth was, it was all just too much.
Too dramatic. Too much hero in it, this transhumanism life extension stuff. Who
wants to live forever anyway? And be bionic and perfect? To go through this,
day in and day out? Eighty or so years was plenty. It seemed so much less
taxing to dress well, be polite, put all your rules in one small book, and
control everyone from there—including yourself. It was just easier to follow
the status quo. He had always believed the status quo was beautiful and correct.
It had worked for centuries, hadn't it? What was wrong with believing in God
anyway, whether he existed or not? Sunday church was only an hour. Leave Him at
the door if that's all you feel. Everyone is happy then. The seas remain
smooth.

Gregory was the worst type of
believer, but not atypical. He believed, but he was one who didn’t care to even
find out if it was worth believing. One who accepted responsibility for as
little as possible regarding his faith. Just enough to get noticed for doing
the job properly. Life was good, he thought, as long as nothing was too deep.
Nothing too serious. Nothing to sweat over. Being human was too amusing to
complicate it with worries about the drama of dying someday. He yawned again,
looking at his watch.

Eight seats over, Jethro sat
frustrated, his anger mounting. His hands tightly gripped the edge of the table
in front of him, pushing it towards the center of the Earth. Only thirty
minutes into the town hall forum, he realized how serious a failure the event
was already. He felt naïve and ashamed for hoping it might help, and even
transform, the transhuman movement. He slapped his right hand on his face,
fighting off the dreary ineptitude and falseness all around him. Normally
unfeeling and disconnected from others, the reality of imbecilic officials and
their anti-transhumanist notions directly affected him. It would directly
affect his life—and possible death—if he didn’t do something about it.

Jethro thought of the landmine
again and could hear the clicking noise in his head. These people
were
that landmine. A much more vicious type. They aimed to paralyze him, to
jeopardize his future, to degrade his brilliant life into passive mediocrity
and subservience—with the end goal of death as their final slap in the face. They
needed to get out of the way with their stupid ritual of empty talk and
waffling. Enough of this nonsense, he felt. Let’s just get to work. We don’t
have to die. Death is a disease, not a rule. The human body is just a start,
not a coffin.

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

Nearly an hour into the
Transhumanism Town Hall Forum, another senator, ballooning with niceties,
motioned his hand towards Dr. Preston Langmore and introduced him as one of the
most prominent spokespersons of the transhuman movement. The senator invited
Langmore to offer suggestions for how a peaceful and practical integration of
life extension and human enhancement science into American culture might be
achieved.

Langmore smiled and stood up. “Good
afternoon, Mr. President, senators, students, professors of Victoria, and
others in the audience. It’s nice to be back on campus. And, of course, to see
how things haven’t changed.”

Muffled laughter rippled out.
Langmore, the President, and many of the politicians and business leaders had
formerly studied or taught at Victoria. The university remained both a breeding
ground and a battlefield for progressive politics, demonstrations, and even new
social movements.

“But what brings me here today is
even more urgent than the clashes we saw years ago. We are on the verge of so
much scientific change that governments and citizens can no longer deny it’s
here, they can no longer deny it's actually happening. Soon, artificial
intelligence, genetic engineering, cryonics reanimation, and a practical
sentience for our species through science will arrive. Soon, the field of
transhumanism will transport all peoples to healthier, more fulfilling lives.
And if we in America don’t lead these changes on our planet, then China,
Russia, Germany, or some other nation will. And wouldn't it be a shame to see
the United States lose its longstanding global dominance of scientific
advancement and achievement?”

Langmore paused, looking about the
rotunda. “My fellow citizens, we are on the edge of a vast transformation of
existence—one that may hold the key to massive leaps in intellectual history,
technology, quality of life, and yes, even spirituality.”

Fifteen meters away, Reverend
Belinas frowned.

Langmore continued his speech, and
it remained compelling for the first two minutes. But then he downshifted,
leading everyone laboriously through the history of transhumanism and the
arcane parts of its science and technology. Although scientists were rarely
exciting public speakers, this crowd spent their lives around professional speakers
and demanded far more. Soon the President tired. The senators and governors
eyed their cell phones. Students yawned and texted one another. Others glanced
at their watches.

Six minutes later, the impatient
Senator from New Hampshire interrupted the scientist. “Dr. Langmore, we know
all this. And we all know the current state of affairs with the transhuman
movement. There’s no question about the possibilities of some of the science,
if taken cautiously. But what we want to know is why there’s been such a recent
uptick in violence and animosity regarding the movement. Two years ago it was a
side issue. This year, it’s tearing the country apart. I haven’t seen this much
polarization since the abortion struggles thirty years ago. With 20 percent
unemployment, we don’t have money or time for polarization. We all want to know
what can be done about it. What is the right direction forward?”