Transhumanist Wager, The (43 page)

“Of course. The first fifty stories
of housing and laboratories will be up within six weeks, right after floating
the platform next month. They can outfit their offices themselves later.”

“Where did research show the wind
farms best positioned?”

“As we thought, close to the
airport. We’re going to do sewers and the mini industrial park near there as
well.”

“Okay. On the northwest side, out
of the ocean views from the hotel and its suites?”

“Way out of the way. You won't know
it's there once we put in the trees. Going to be a bona fide jungle surrounding
it.”

“Fine. Let's talk next Tuesday.
Call me anytime with problems.”

Jethro left on his jet that
evening, and headed for the world's premier technology university in
Massachusetts. Awaiting him were dozens of confidential appointments with
professors and graduate students, many of whom were the leading authorities and
upcoming stars in their fields.

Spread between Transhuman Citizen’s
dozen international offices, Janice Mantikas and her legion of newly hired
employees worked indefatigably researching and locating the most promising scientists
around the world. No corner or outpost on the globe was overlooked from Europe
to Asia, from South America to Africa, from Australia to North America. Once it
was determined that a scientist was a good match for Transhumania, Jethro made
personal contact with them. His days and nights—many spent in flight on his
jet—were nonstop marathons of meetings, phone calls, writing emails, making
computer presentations, preparing speeches, and mailing out secret Transhumania
information packages and contracts. 

Jethro mastered his task of
pitching the spectacular possibilities of the transhuman nation to his chosen
candidates. His invitation to share in the rebirth of the transhuman mission
and its life extension goals was compelling, exciting, and novel. Part of his
presentation was done in 3D modeling on a holographic screen that shot out of
his laptop computer. The state-of-the-art technology Burton’s company provided
was impressively futuristic.

At the end of meetings with
candidates, Jethro always showed them live footage beamed from cameras
installed on Transhumania's platform. The scientists watched, dumbfounded.

“Are those all people?” they asked.

“Yes, they certainly are—and these
steel skeletons are the skyscrapers,” Jethro answered, and pointed with his
index finger. “You'd be living right about there. The most modern buildings in
the world. Every luxury and convenience you can imagine: spas, five-star
restaurants, botanical gardens, farmers’ markets, an entertainment plaza, a
world-class performing arts center. Then over there would be your offices and
laboratories. No expense spared on your research equipment. The most
sophisticated on the planet—I guarantee it.”

Many of the invited scientists
initially relished the idea of the floating transhuman city. The place sounded
extraordinary to them. People were also excited that the movement wasn't dead;
that Jethro made good on his promise to not let Transhuman Citizen be defeated.
That hardly changed many people’s blunt skepticism and caution, however. Hard
questions remained for those invited to join Transhumania: How could Jethro
Knights afford it? How could he promise such amazing research in such
unprecedented facilities? With whose permission? Certainly America and the
other A10 countries wouldn't allow it.

Jethro responded that America and
the A10 had nothing to do with transhumanism anymore, at least not on
Transhumania. Once scientists arrived there, he promised hassle-free lives from
bossy governments and others that disapprove of transhumanist ways. The United
Nations decreed three decades ago that rules and ownership 200 miles away from
any land masses on the planet do not exist.

“Out there on Transhumania, we are
under our own stars and navigation,” Jethro declared. “It’s free territory.”

Additionally, he promised the
scientists amazing salaries, stellar healthcare, and citizenship to
Transhumania if people desired. For their children, there would be competitive
schools, sports groups, piano tutors, French classes, tennis lessons, and swim
teams. Dozens of varied restaurants and cafes would serve organic, sustainable,
and cruelty-free foods. Coffee shops, juice bars, and drinking pubs would be
ubiquitous. Movie theaters, art galleries, fitness centers, libraries, science
and technology museums, and shopping centers would dot the city. Innovative
designers would set up furniture and clothing outlets, including those that
created products and garments with the latest intelligent materials capable of
bio-monitoring the body. Whatever you wanted or needed, no matter how
far-fetched; it would all be there. Jethro laid out the promise of an ideal,
advanced society, the chance to belong to a country with everything going for
it.

His hiring policy was simple. He
didn't give a damn where you came from, or what color you were, or with whom
you had sex, or what gender you were, or if you had disabilities, or whether
you were a criminal or not. But if you were hired for a position, and you
failed to meet the goals assigned to you, or if you hindered other hires from
meeting the goals assigned to them, then you would be fired and forced off
Transhumania at once. There were no labor unions allowed. No workers’
compensation. No welfare. No freebies. In short, there was no pity, or even
pretense at pity. There was just usefulness—or not. And if you didn't like it,
or didn't agree with it, then you didn't belong on Transhumania. Every contract
of every scientist who wanted to join bore this severe language, as well as
their consensual agreement to uphold the tenants of the
TEF Manifesto
and the core mission of transhumanism.

On a blistering morning in the
middle of May, thirty-six tugboats from all over West Africa began pulling
Transhumania on its sleds off the beach and into the sea. Over the next night,
divers finalized the welding and bolting of the platform's eight independent
keels, each one bearing a 40,000 horsepower diesel engine inside it for
maneuvering across oceans. The following day, Transhumania was afloat and
mobile on its own power. 

So far, photography and the media
were strictly disallowed aboard or within five miles of the platform. The sole
exception was a cameraman working directly for Jethro, documenting the
construction. But weeks after the launch, when the world and the media began
confirming rumors of a floating city being built off Africa—via shoddy pictures
of the platform appearing on the Internet, taken without permission by cell
phones from manual laborers—Jethro scheduled a press conference in Cape Town,
South Africa. He planned to announce his transhuman nation to the world and to
share images of the seasteading city with the media.

A week in advance, Jethro began
preparing his speech. It was to be an uncompromising swat at the face of the
human race, announcing the bold return of transhumanism.

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

“Goddamn it!” cried Senator Gregory
Michaelson, two days before the Transhumania press conference. “Where the hell
did Jethro Knights get all that money? Did you see the size of that floating
thing? That takes lots of money to build.”

His outburst caught even Reverend
Belinas by surprise; the preacher eyed him with hostility. They were having an
emergency NFSA meeting in Washington, D.C. Three other senators, two generals,
an admiral, a CIA director, Gregory, the preacher, and six top NFSA officials
sat around a large, antique maple table overlooking the Potomac River. In the
past four months, on orders from the White House, the NFSA had begun the thorny
process of downsizing. All major American agencies were going through cuts. The
U.S. Government could no longer afford such behemoth operations without
prompting a default of its national debt. Besides, the NFSA’s core mission of
stamping out the transhumanists had already been trumpeted as an overwhelming
success. Many people considered it dated news. The President had publicly
announced that federal resources would best be spent elsewhere, like on welfare
or Medicaid.

“I thought this crazy movement was
basically over,” Gregory said, looking helplessly at Belinas.

“Well, it is in America,” spoke up
a general. “There are only a handful of renegade scientists left doing anything
directly with it.”

“But they
want
to—they
all
want to continue their evil indefinitely,” said Belinas, angrily. “Can you tell
us what exactly is being built, Admiral? I can see the satellite photos and
what was released to the media, but it’s hard to make out exactly what’s going
on. And for what purpose especially?”

The admiral stood up and walked
towards a satellite image screened across a 150-inch monitor on the wall. The
picture showed three skyscrapers under construction, rising out of the sea. He
pointed to them with a rod, explaining, “We think Mr. Knights is building a
brand new city, one that floats and can navigate across oceans. It’s where he
and other transhumanists plan to conduct the science they need to overcome
human mortality and other transhuman goals. There are no laws once you're 200
miles out to sea, according to the U.N. Convention Act of 1984. Apparently,
he’s got someone to foot the bill.”

“But that takes a lot of money,”
Gregory insisted again, his pink silk tie crooked.

The others glanced at him
disdainfully, not caring to point out the obvious.

The admiral continued, touching the
screen on the wall to make the next image appear. The photo showed a massive
electrical plant with a grid of thick wires that disappeared into the platform.
The following picture showed 125 wind-powered generators near an Olympic-sized
swimming pool. Another showed a grain silo on the northeast corner adjacent to
a cement factory and a solar farm. The next showed the city’s airport with six
commercial jets and eight helicopters lined up on the tarmac. Another showed
the inner part of the platform, where sewer systems, walkways, and a subway
tube careened around the city. Others showed the half-completed sports stadium
where dozens of bulldozers, forklifts, excavators, and cement trucks were
parked. One highly zoomed-in photo showed hundreds of tents encircling the
docking port on the city’s north side. Thousands of tiny dots—presumably
people—were working nearby. The workers’ electric vehicles, which looked like
giant bicycle helmets, appeared to be zipping around the platform.

The admiral went through all the
satellite photos—fifty in total—highlighting countless angles of the
construction. When he was done speaking, Belinas stood up and placed his
clenched fists on the table in front of him.

“Ladies and gentleman, that
city—the so-called transhuman nation—is a menace. It threatens us. We need to
stop Jethro Knights and his kind. Our spies say he’s even recruiting our very
own scientists to work there—our own American citizens. He's
stealing
them.”

The room went silent for many
seconds until one of the generals answered. “Now with all due respect,
Reverend, it’s hard to see how a bunch of nerdy scientists are going to
threaten America. We practically forced them out. It's their right to do what
they want outside of our legal jurisdiction. And the rumor is they're leaving
because the pay is so good. Hell, when did scientists start making as much
money as professional football players? I hear it's almost four times what the
best of us make.”

One of the senators hooted, and
said, “Yeah, exactly. I hear they have a million dollar sign-on bonus. A
million bucks—cash. In
this
economic environment. Can you imagine that?”

“It’s the humanitarian angle with
which I'm concerned, people,” Belinas said, interrupting them. “Can't you see
that? It's not the damn scientists I care about. It's the grotesque experiments
and modifications they plan on doing to the human body, which are fundamentally
against our way of life and downright evil. This isn’t about threatening us
with a gun, like you’re used to in a war. This is a corrosive gas coming out of
the earth when you’re sleeping at night. That’s what the transhumanists are
planning, whether they’re in our legal jurisdiction or not.”

“Well, what do you suggest,
Belinas?” asked the other general. “We can’t just attack a group of scientists
for doing experiments that technically aren’t illegal outside of our country.
And if the rumors are right, these are people who are taking oaths to an
autonomous nation with its own laws. There's nothing saying you can't do that.
We've always encouraged freedom and allowed that type of civil liberty.”

“This tyrant, Jethro Knights, knows
exactly what he’s doing. He created his own sovereign kingdom so his evil can
go unmonitored and unheeded!” Belinas exclaimed.

The preacher knew he was throwing
darts into the dark. The information about Transhumania was still too new and
bizarre for anyone but himself to already consider acting on it. “Besides,” he
continued, “isn't it treason for our scientists to change teams? Can't you see
that damn city is going to be a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah? Something must be
done.”

Gregory interjected loudly, “How
the hell do you just start a country? That’s absurd. Aren’t there laws against
that?”

No one paid any attention to him.

Belinas looked at the admiral and
the generals, saying: “What I’m trying to get across to you all is that the
President is expecting a report from us. I understand it's not prudent for us
to do anything immediately; however, this is an urgent new security threat. And
the media is saying perhaps we didn’t win the War on Transhumanism; that maybe
we just fanned the fire, wasted the public's money, and scared scientists away
in some brain-drain from our nation. We need to prove to the public we
did
win and will continue winning. I want some ideas from you all in the next weeks
on how this rogue city-state can be handled. How it can be contained. How it
can be eliminated.”