The topmost outside skeleton of the Technology Tower was only ten days away from being completed. It was the most difficult building on Transhumania to finish because of the complicated technology and engineering involved. Over 500 electricians and technicians spent weeks installing a massive array of complex wiring, tens of thousands of servers, and dozens of remote Internet encryption firewire systems. It was the building dedicated to everything computer- and microchip-oriented: all software, hardware, and nanotechnology research.
In its tower, every floor was dedicated to different technical fields: supercomputers, supercomputer hacking, software design, hardware creation, nuclear accelerators, fusion machines, robotics, artificial intelligence, nanobot technology, Web design, virtual world creation, computer chip architecture and construction. The dozen floors near the top were dedicated to everything military: missile building, aerospace design, robotic weaponry, and drone construction.
While Jethro Knights was disinclined to talk directly with new citizens about military strategy, as leader of a young nation—one who was scarred from his personal experiences with America—he knew the ability to defend itself from invaders and wage a successful war was power.
To everyone who asked, Jethro said, “There are contingency plans and appropriate defenses, which very smart people are working on right now. Besides, the United Nation’s international rules dictate that no one has jurisdiction over us; therefore, technically, no one is allowed to bother us.”
Realistically, Jethro knew the world would eventually attempt to assail Transhumania—to try and steal its gifts, and attempt to stop its technological ascent. From the first moments he conceived of his nation, there were ambitious and unorthodox military plans in his mind. He refused to waste precious time and resources building multitudes of bombs and armament; instead, he wanted to develop powerful technologies that would render the enemies' major weapons useless. Everything was digital, computerized, and GPS-oriented on today's battlefield. The victor possessed the smartest computer whizzes and the most powerful computers, not the fiercest soldiers or the most destructive explosives. What was the point of mighty bombs and missiles if they were unable to explode or reach their targets? Jethro asked himself. What he wanted on Transhumania was hackers, programmers, code-breakers, and cyber-warriors—the world's best. He could never compete against the resources of larger nations in terms of firepower. Leading brains, however, he could muster. Jethro spent hundreds of millions of dollars of his military budget creating customized supercomputers and hiring the best techies in the world to run them. He aimed to be able to swiftly hack into a rival’s missile guidance systems and dismantle or reprogram their weaponry.
Of course, only so much can be done with computers. Jethro spent nearly half a billion dollars commissioning the Hyperscram Jet Aircraft Project: the creation of four megasonic airplanes. They were to be unlike anything the world had ever seen before. They would provide both defensive and offensive cover to the small nation, without having to be manned. Each aircraft would possess the capability to fire Transhumanian-designed Tetronic T-1 guidance rockets with bunker-buster technology.
Next, he hired a team of engineers to devise a comprehensive shield system of missiles that could defend the nation against incoming raids or attacks, regardless of how they came. This included target-sensitive tracking missiles that would intercept and destroy enemy rockets or bombs before they hit the city. Additionally, he commissioned a project to create underwater charge deflectors, which tricked enemy torpedoes to explode long before they reached Transhumania.
The final plan of Transhumania’s military was the development of ten ultra-advanced robots. Each machine would be designed to always remain under strict control of its personal avatar: a human engineer sitting behind a computer in the Technology Tower. Some of these avatars were also champion gamers with years of competitive experience in professional video game tournaments.
While every robot would possess the ability to fire weapons and engage in combat, each would be created with markedly different utility. Weaponbot, laden with guns and missiles, would be made for search-and-destroy missions. Medibot, with nine intricate fingers on each hand, would be designed to perform delicate medical surgery. Firebot, conceived with heatproof components and powerful fire extinguishers built into its limbs, would be made to fight all types of fires. Bombbot, planned to be bulky and nearly indestructible, would be for bomb squad detail. Crashbot, with one arm bearing a circular saw and the other a jaws-of-life device, would be for crash recovery situations. Buildbot, created for building or fixing tasks, would be able to perform everything from aircraft construction to tiny computer chip repair. Strongbot would be made incredibly tough and agile, designed for lifting and handling awkward and heavy objects with sheer accuracy. Polibot, with various radars and sensors, would specialize in security, detective, and police work. Soldierbot would be the ultimate soldier, created for all types of warfare and fighting. The tenth and last robot planned was to be the smartest, carrying in its chest cavity multiple interlinked computer chips and servers that could compute a trillion calculations a second; named Intellibot, this robot would be a walking supercomputer.
Jethro’s ambitious military projects would take years to reach fruition. He was adamant that a third of his ten-billion-dollar budget go towards military development for the protection and expansion of Transhumania.
“What for?” Preston Langmore asked him, dubious when he found out. “Spend it on the research, Jethro.”
“No way. I'm going to bring them to their knees, Preston—then dock this nation on the Hudson River in New York City and take over America. We have a limited amount of resources here on Transhumania, but they have everything we need.”
“Are you kidding me?” Langmore said, flabbergasted. “You want to take on the United States of America?”
“No, Preston, not just the U.S.A. The world. That's what the Transhuman Revolution is about.”
To oversee the completion of his militaristic goals, Jethro brought in Oliver Mbaye from the Paris office and made him executive director of Transhumania’s defense operations. Together, they chose their commanders and military personnel with extreme care—only after getting to know them thoroughly via multiple interviews, careful background checks, and in-depth psychological tests.
It was an unwinnable challenge to keep the groundbreaking defense developments hidden from the rest of the city’s citizens and the watching world. Too much money and too many high-profile people were interlaced into the projects. Inadvertent minor leaks of information and satellite photography gave hints to other nations that military prowess was being created on Transhumania. Rumors spread quickly that the technology was highly advanced. It made leaders of the A10 countries edgy and fearful.
Chapter 27
Ironically, as final construction on Transhumania was completed, and the city entered its first full year of research operations, the NFSA was reduced in size again. A second round of layoffs battered the American agency, which had recently been stripped of its budget by nearly half. And even that staggering multibillion-dollar amount left to run the agency was critically questioned by much of the public.
The heavy-handed downsizing wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone. More and more over the past twelve months, the NFSA had found itself idle, relegated to basic bureaucratic and administrative tasks, like running the U.S. Drug Administration, overseeing the Federal Department of Agriculture, and implementing strategy within the NAH. Quite simply, its chief task was now totally over. It had undeniably won the battle against transhumanism in America. No scientist in the fifty states openly did research in the field anymore, and those who engaged in experimental science did so under strict guidance and observation from the government. Approved research included projects centered on creating better flu vaccines, drugs to lower blood pressure, better pain medication for cancer patients, bariatric surgeries for obese people, and easier methods for diabetics to imbibe insulin. The
y were aimed at improving common medical procedures and drugs to keep people alive, but never with perpetual longevity as an end goal, or with the mission to move beyond the fallible human body. The end goal, one NFSA spokesperson declared, was “a healthy, natural, and long life followed by a dignified death, with the spirit set to join its Creator.”
As the NFSA shrank, many of its thousands of remaining employees turned to propaganda and educational activities. Scholarships were offered to students who dedicated research to preserving the dignity and cultural legacy of human beings. Documentaries and films, promoting the historical importance of religion and spirituality in the lives of citizens, were funded. National writing contests were sponsored on topics such as why the human species is more beautiful than a cyborg species. The NFSA gave college philosophy professors around the country grants to churn out books on why computer consciousness could never be authentic consciousness at all.
Senator Gregory Michaelson and Reverend Belinas, who remained the leading duo of the NFSA, recognized they were losing relevance. To counter this, both men launched into more anti-transhumanist actions and campaigns; however, the impact was muted. Gregory’s mini education projects around the nation proved uninspiring and ineffective. In televised sermons and interviews, Belinas’ increased negative rhetoric on transhumanism and technology was overkill.
Even though the American national psyche had turned its back on transhumanism, everyone realized the movement was alive and apparently thriving somewhere on the South Seas. Jethro Knights’ new sovereign city was mentioned in international news almost every day, some of it featured in sensational ways that garnered avid attention. Despite the NFSA’s efforts to spew misinformation about Transhumania, the transhumanist enclave became known as the city of the future, where everything from robotic surgery to organic fusion cuisine to electric helicopters was years advanced. Press releases from the Transhumania News Network were often shared with the world's media:
At First Annual Technology Olympics on Transhumania, Japanese Robots Suffer Stinging Defeat Against Robotic Ping-Pong Home Team
Transhumania Declares Nation 100% Fossil Fuel Free; City Now Completely Powered by Solar Energy, Swell Movement, and Wind Farms
Aging Telomerase Gene 458T Located in Humans for the First Time; Transhumanian Scientists Prepare Experiments to Adjust Its DNA Controls
Famed Eastern Fusion Chef Defects to Transhumania to Open Novel Restaurant; Blends Organic Asian Cuisine with European Dishes
Transhumanian Surgeon Performs First Robotic Open Heart Surgery in Airless Vacuum Chamber Room; Infection-Free Surgery Heralds New Direction in Medicine
Increasingly, as the lack of innovative medical research and the socialization of healthcare in First World countries stunted the quality of medicine, wealthy people from around the globe began flying into Transhumania for exceptionally challenging surgeries. Many of the best hospitals’ top doctors in A10 countries had long since relocated to be a part of the city’s pioneering medical center. Transhumania’s physician residency program quickly became the most prestigious on the planet. Its incredible faculty, resources, and state-of-the-art facilities were unlike any other hospital in the world.
Russell Blanche, the influential CEO of Empyrean Communications Group—the largest technology company in the world—made a highly publicized flight to Transhumania for prosthetic lung transplants, the first operation of its kind. Only two weeks before, doctors in America told the ailing 52-year-old executive he was terminally ill and that he probably wouldn’t be alive in three months. Blanche had been diagnosed with a rare, genetic, degenerative lung disorder that was rapidly advancing. His mucus-filled lungs had already shrunk to half their size and bore the sick, tainted color of maize yellow.
One year later, at a major Las Vegas technology convention, when Blanche introduced his company’s new flagship product—a communications handset with a holographic interface—he looked healthier than ever. In a press conference with great fanfare, he related the story of his medical experience in the transhuman nation. He told journalists his synthetic lungs were superior to the lungs of a marathon champion, and that the hundreds of non-functioning vessels in his chest had been replaced with far more durable synthetic ones.
“When I exercise now, my increased athleticism astounds me,” Blanche said. “For example, yesterday on my daily lap swim, I held my breath underwater for almost five minutes. Even before my health had deteriorated, my best time could not have been over two minutes. Additionally, while I was on Transhumania, they operated on my eyes, implanting tiny, permanent magnifying contacts into my retinas. My eyesight is now an unnatural 20/10—the equivalent of an eagle’s.”
“But how do you feel?” asked a reporter with a squealing tone. “I mean really feel deep down inside—with all this fake stuff in you?”
Blanche laughed. “I feel great, and smart too. Last year I was a dying man inquiring into funeral arrangements. Now I’m here and thriving, ready to lead my company towards new phases of innovation and growth.”
The following day, Reverend Belinas read the cover story on Russell Blanche in the USA Daily Tribune. He clenched his fists angrily, and a thick vein across his scalp became strongly visible. More than ever, he wanted to destroy the transhumanists. A thriving transhuman nation supported his worst fears of what the future might be for the human race. Alone and without governmental support, however, there was little he could do. Currently, every politician was reluctant to tackle the situation when affairs were so economically dreadful at home.
“Attack Transhumania? Why, Reverend? More importantly, with what money?” he was asked by every elected official to whom he spoke.
A game-changer occurred three months later when a longtime friend and ally of the reverend, a hard-nosed three-star general, telephoned him with startling news. A prototype of some mysterious aircraft never seen before was photographed flying at incredible speeds near the seasteading nation. Large missiles were attached to the undersides of its wings.
“This looks stealth military to me,” the general told Belinas by phone. “It’s the fastest thing we’ve ever seen. And they now have three of the world’s five leading nuclear scientists on Transhumania—working together, for God's sake. We should talk to the President and to Congress. Immediately. We could never defend against an aircraft of that speed if it were carrying nuclear weapons. With enough bombs, they could wipe out every major city in the world in a single day.”
The hairs on the back of the preacher’s neck shot up as he remembered Jethro Knights’ ominous press conference speech in South Africa.
“General, you are emphatically right!” Belinas exclaimed. “This is a most precarious situation. It’s exactly what I feared all along. Try to get as much intelligence as you can in the next seventy-two hours. Pictures, interviews, and any other evidence. I'll arrange the rest. This time the President will listen—or we'll bypass him.”
Six days later, over a private lunch at the White House with the U.S. President, Belinas tried securing the politician’s support. He warned the President that if he continued to remain neutral on Transhumania, and the rogue nation was to assert itself and do something radical, he would forever jeopardize his political stature, his legacy, his nation, and perhaps the planet. Belinas told him he was being downright foolhardy by not looking further into the urgent matter and asking for a congressional hearing, especially now that there was a distinct possibility Transhumania possessed nuclear weaponry.
“Mr. President, have you read what the CIA intercepted last week from Transhumania? Some of the ideas coming out of that devil’s hive are appalling. Their philosophers are writing volumes for the governing of a new world order. They want to put birth control in the water and limit child-rearing only to educated and prosperous families. They want to limit voting rights only to people who pay taxes, own property through self-acquired means, and don’t receive welfare. They want to implement a global mandate forcing everyone to receive a rigorous
secular education that disses faith and religion. They want to create a law that ensures governmental control and leadership is always split evenly between males and females. They even want to limit the amount of lawyers in government, insisting a cross-section of society’s professions must represent the people.”
The President lifted his left eyebrow.
“They even advocate cryo-freezing mentally challenged and handicapped people, promising that they’ll be brought back in some distant future when their illnesses and deficiencies can somehow be miraculously cured. Do you understand? They suggest killing them. I'm certain they're already committing such atrocities on Transhumania. This is crazy, evil, genocidal stuff. They have no respect or concern for the poor, the weak, the underprivileged, the destitute—for the common person."
The President closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, fidgeting in his seat.
"Have you read their magnum opus of evil, the Humanicide Formula?" The reverend pulled out a notebook from his robe's pocket and began reading:
The optimum transhuman trajectory of civilization is that which creates the most efficient way to produce omnipotenders. Currently, the best way to accomplish this is to achieve as expediently as possible the highest amount of productive transhuman life hours in the maximum amount of human beings; however, not all human beings will be a net-positive in producing omnipotenders. Any individual who ultimately hampers the optimum transhuman trajectory of civilization should be eliminated. The Humanicide Formula addresses this issue directly. It determines whether an individual should live or die based on an algorithm measuring transhuman productivity in terms of that individual's remaining life hours, their resource consumption in a finite system, and their past, present, and potential future contributions.
The Transhumanist Wager Page 35