The Transhumanist Wager

by Zoltan Istvan

  “Yeah, and this is an American courtroom, first and foremost. Orders—regardless of who issues them—don’t trump law. Don't forget son, I've been on the bench a long time. I've seen presidents come and go, some of whom were forced to resign with their tail between their legs when the law was broken.”

  The judge stared hard at the prosecutor, testing him, unafraid.

  The prosecutor turned to his partner, a CIA man who bore a callous countenance and wore a dark suit. They whispered to each other until the man grudgingly shrugged his shoulders.

  “Your Honor, seven days will be acceptable,” said the prosecutor meekly. “We request that time to determine if there are any charges to be brought against Jethro Knights regarding the Cryotask bombing.”

  “That, you gentlemen may do. But the day someone comes into my courtroom telling me what I can or cannot do, when it's not within the scope of the U.S. Constitution, I will quit my job and leave this great nation. You have seven days to drum up reasonable charges and evidence against Mr. Knights, or I will free him.”

  Oliver Mbaye and Preston Langmore snickered at the about-face the prosecution was forced to make. Moments later, a police officer led Jethro Knights out of the courtroom and back to his cell. Jethro eyed Zoe Bach as he was escorted away, nodding to her that everything would be all right.

  ************

  Four days later, the President of the United States held a special evening press conference that was broadcast live on television, radio, and the Internet. It was a deliberate government attempt to ease the escalating tensions between the transhumanists and the religious anti-transhumanist groups. In the seventy-two hours following the Cryotask attack, dozens of spontaneous acts of violence had occurred nationwide—many at cryonics companies, human enhancement clinics, and transhuman laboratories. Television stations aired live, incendiary footage of a robotics research facility and an embryonic stem cell center being torched by angry religious mobs. The attacks were countered by transhumanist youths burning down a handful of churches across the country and vandalizing an NAH satellite building in Tampa Bay, Florida. The NAH building was spray-painted multiple times in bright orange with the words, Courtesy of Transhuman Citizen. Clearly, the stage was set for a national standoff.

  At the press conference, bearing his patented cool demeanor, the President asked the nation's citizens to calm themselves, to control their emotions and angst. He blamed recent events partly on the media, and how they mishandled and misrepresented stories. He extolled them to be judicious with the news, and to stop sensationalizing it. Mostly, though, he spoke of the problem of aggression across the country as being an economic issue.

  “If people had jobs they would be more reasonable, more tolerant. We could progress through these challenging times in peace and unity.”

  After five minutes of speaking and meandering on the country's woes, it was clear the President’s special address was leading to something bigger—an important announcement. Blogs had recently reported a rumor that the government was imminently launching a gigantic new agency to remedy the animosity brewing across the country. What exactly for, no one knew for sure.

  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 watchi
ng 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 sur
e 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.”

  Gregory sighed again, his voice drained. “I have to go and take Amanda to a public function. My jet is waiting. I can’t get dragged into all your spiritual grudges. I only got four hours of sleep last night.”

  Gregory was beat. Belinas knew better then to pursue the matter now. He backed down, muttered some generalities, told Gregory to stay healthy, and then hung up.

  Inside, the preacher was livid. His anger had been growing for days. But pushing Gregory at this moment was not the strategy for defeating the transhuman movement. The senator was still only a puppet. The immediate strategy for the reverend was to personally achieve more power. Left unchecked, Belinas knew transhuman science and technology could unravel the course of humanity. It seemed amazing to him that others didn't recognize the profundity of that possibility and treat it accordingly. Belinas needed more power so he could use the NFSA to increase pressure on the transhumanists, to make them live in the unwanted and unproductive state of war and fear.

  The preacher walked outside his headquarters and crossed the driveway to his impressive seven-story church, which resembled a cathedral. Inside, he knelt down in the pews. He was alone. He stared at a life-sized crucifix overlooking a giant white marble altar. His hands were spread apart, aggressively gripping the bench in front of him. He focused his mind and began strategizing new ways to implement his war. Most importantly, he needed the U.S. President to give Senator Michaelson, the NFSA, and him more resources and legal control to fight the transhumanists. Once that happened, Belinas decided his primary aim should be to lead the new agency to entirely outlaw the field of transhumanism—to make it criminal to be a part of the science and the movement in any way. Just like Jethro Knights believed with his philosophy, Belinas knew there could be no middle ground.