“Come now, Mr. Knights,” Belinas said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. “Do you really think your proposal and strategy for the world’s future is better than ours—than God’s? Consider your aim: global mutiny of the entire human race; a spiritual, psychological, and biological insurrection on a scale never before witnessed. You want to challenge and overthrow nearly every righteous and civil ideal humankind and modern progress have achieved, in order to become something abnormal, grotesque, and blasphemous. In order to become something transhuman.”
“What I want is for capable people in the world to realize we can be so much more than just human beings, and to act rationally and swiftly upon that truth without remorse, fear, or interference from others who disagree.”
“Honestly, Mr. Knights, who will listen? More importantly, how can you win? Ninety-seven percent of the planet’s population is religious, and many people thoroughly disagree with transhumanism and its ideals. It contradicts their innermost beliefs.”
“Who gives a damn about most people? The capable will listen, and they’re the only ones who really matter.”
“And what of the billions of others?”
“Those others will be given a choice. If they fail to join and add something positive, screw them.”
Belinas slapped his knees, frustrated. “Have you really zero concern for the opinions and well-being of nearly the entire human race? Would you really leave all of us by the wayside?”
“Yes, if I must. I have no concern for anyone or anything unless it can help me or the transhuman movement.”
“That’s utterly outrageous, even from a deplorable megalomaniac like yourself,” Belinas replied. “Your scheme of a winner-takes-all scenario would be a terrible descent into global mayhem and savagery.”
Jethro shot back, “As human beings continue to improve and transcend themselves—especially their evolution into super-machines—nonfunctional philosophies and influences such as yours will be dropped for expediency. It doesn’t mean global mayhem and savagery, it means stiffer, more consequential competition. People will step up and learn to deal or be lost.”
Belinas ran his hands over his scalp as if fathoming the enormity of a revelation. He looked directly into Jethro’s eyes and said slowly, “For Christ's sake, we should’ve killed you a long time ago. The world you propose is catastrophically dangerous.”
“It doesn’t seem dangerous to me.”
“Perhaps not to you, Mr. Philosopher. But it’s dangerous to the rest of us, to those billions who need and love God, and who rely on His guidance and rules. It’s dangerous to those who count on the altruism and kindness of other human beings to survive. It’s dangerous to those who have few battle skills and will surely be losers in your desired transhuman future. It’s dangerous to those who are already overwhelmed with just living, whose struggle to survive for fifty or sixty years on this planet is crushing enough. And that means nearly all human beings, except your kind. People should be terrified of the world you are proposing.”
“Only a fool human lives his life in fear because of the things you speak of. The only fear warranted is possibly the fear of failing to be omnipotent. And those people you speak of are losers because they choose to be.”
Belinas brusquely waved his hand in the air again. “Of course, Mr. Knights. It’s just like you to feel that way. Do you remember what you said in your first public Transhumanian speech in Cape Town? That you would kill all of us if you had to. That you would murder every single human being who was against you on this planet if it were in your best interest. The Humanicide Formula is embedded into the core of your Three Laws of Transhumanism. Fundamentally, you don't consider us worth giving a damn about."
"Do the people of the world give a damn about me? Do they give a damn about transhumanists? Do they even fundamentally give a damn about each other? With the exception of Transhumanians, all people and their governments have been sanctioning and carrying out formulas of mass murder for centuries. Every time they accept anti-science laws instead of pro-science laws, every time they embrace restrictive religious attitudes instead of freethinking human enhancement attitudes, every time they pay for trillion-dollar wars abroad instead of funding trillion-dollar wars at home against cancer, heart disease, or old age, they are prematurely ending the lives of their fellow human beings. Premeditated or not, their participation constitutes a quantifiable contribution to an ongoing global humanicide. The truth is undeniable. All but transhumanists are guilty executioners of their fellow humans' precious life hours."
"That's absolute nonsense."
"Yet, there's something far worse than mass murder, isn't there, preacher? Something else that somehow you've gotten so many humans to accept unconditionally. We don't even have a word for what I'm talking about because it's so preposterous. No evil can compare to what some of the world's major religions have fated for billions of people—what Jehovah, Jesus, or Allah plans to do on his purported Judgment Day. They each have a formula for carrying out the mass sentencing of an 'eternal punishment of suffering' of those who don't worship them and follow their rules. Regardless of which religion it is, most of the human race will be forever enslaved into a horrifying and excruciating hell."
Jethro raised his eyebrows and stared at Belinas. "Honestly, preacher, could any person—whether it be Hitler, Saddam Hussein, or Pol Pot—ever rival the diabolical madness that Jesus, Mohammed, or the Popes envisioned and endorsed for billions of human beings? Those religious prophets and leaders who laid down their rules and designs for the world were the epitomes of evil. Their formulas for who gets into heaven and who burns in eternal hell are far worse than any ideas conceived on Transhumania. My nation's philosophy and its methods lead to greater, more productive life hours for the species as a whole. Theirs leads to a paltry sect of humans attaining bliss, while all others get charred forever in lakes of fire. Is it possible to imagine a worse, more malevolent judgment than one that forces an individual to undergo an eternity of total agony—let alone the eternal agonies of many billions of people throughout the ages? Your religions are totally asinine."
"No one should judge God," Belinas said obstinately. "Humans don't have the capacity to comprehend The Omniscient One's methods and decrees. Only He who gives life and takes life can wield such power and understanding."
"You may have convinced billions of human lemmings around the world of that, but not transhumanists. We smelled the bullshit right away. We know the truth: Religion equals death."
"Religion equals salvation," Belinas retorted angrily.
Both men glowered at each other. The silence in the dungeon was palpable.
"Regrettably, Mr. Knights, reciprocal empathetic communication with someone like you is impossible. You're an alien. You're missing the main spiritual organ in life: a soul that is afraid. Life has never scared you into submission. Life has never damaged you enough to change you. If it were somehow possible, and you were forced into a predicament where the only way to reach your goal was to kill your wife, then you would kill her, unafraid. You would murder her a thousand times to reach your immortality, if required. That's how brutal you are at the core, how monstrous and evil you are.”
Jethro threw his head back, a shiver filling his body. Belinas had penetrated him, and found a vulnerable point. Jethro remembered how grueling and twisting it was after Zoe died. Remembered the utter pain, confusion, sadness. Despite this, the transhumanist forced himself to answer, clearly and firmly, “What you say is true, preacher. I would kill my wife a thousand times if I absolutely had to in order to reach my goals. But the reality is, and will always be, that I love my wife. I love her so utterly much even now, years later. And I would do an infinite amount of things to avoid the perverse predicament you propose.”
Aggravated, Belinas pulled out another cigarette and lit it.
“I believe you, Mr. Knights; however, it hardly makes you less of a monster. You're no less the devil. Any God-fearing person would give up his go
al, or compromise on his goal, or change his goal. Because life would be too much for him otherwise. Too overwhelming. Too painful. Too punishing. The pangs of existence would force his humility and submission. But not you. Not the omnipotender. Not the man who has no fear of replacing God with himself. Or taking a billion lives. You wouldn't change in the slightest. A man who can love as much as you and can also murder like you—all in the same moment, in the same action—shouldn't be a part of this world. You're an anomaly, the most potent deadly cancer, a blinding evil in a spiritual universe. You’re the potential Antichrist and are dangerous to the delicate equilibrium of life we have on this social planet. It's not wise to allow cataclysmic game-changers in the form of a single being.”
“But this is my planet. And it's not just a single being who thinks this way. It's another million of them around the globe, some living on Transhumania, all of them leaders and exceptional individuals. They’re not people killing their loved ones in some crazy philosophical twist you propose; they’re people making it so others and themselves can live longer, safer, healthier lives in greater prosperity. That's the reality transhumanists create, even if they appear selfish and inhumane.”
“While the majority of beings become impoverished,” Belinas snapped back. “While they live in squalor, go hungry, experience misery, breed sin, and get left out of the godlike advances you create. Oh, and of course, they will certainly miss out on that great evil you suggest as possibly coming: the Singularity.”
“We didn't force others into that pathetic position, preacher. Rather, you led them there with your philosophies of fear and control. And with your impossible insistence on equality, which stunted their ability to use reason to advance themselves.”
Belinas shifted his body away for a moment, trying to calm himself. The anger in him was amassing. He turned back and stiffly said, “I lead them to where their capacities—as limited as they are—can handle God and His will on terms by which they don't betray their brothers and sisters, or their countries, or their own souls, or their planet. Or do you really think the whole world could live on Transhumania and be prosperous, and ponder incredible calculus equations, and work twenty-hour days, and strive to be omnipotenders with no fear of anything? Do you really think the average taxi driver, or burger flipper, or busty waitress with flashy painted eyelashes could be a part of your elitist nation? Or the future transhuman world you’re hoping for?”
“I believe in giving them the choice. I believe in trying to teach them so they can contribute. Then kicking them out if they fail. Otherwise, if they don’t belong, people will sink the ship with their cumbersome weight. Such is the coarse reality of the evolutionary inheritance built into the universe and the TEF philosophy. But I do try to give them the choice.”
“Well, I'm much kinder than you, Jethro Knights. I'm a humanitarian and a God-fearing man. Since I know choice is irrelevant for them. They desperately need dogmatic control. Or they will fail. They will sin. They will fall short and betray themselves, others, and God. They will become devil-minded brutes. So I lead them to a place where they don't get kicked out, where they can live out their lives under God's careful watch and infinite forgiveness. I carry them when I have to—they're never too heavy for me. That is the difference between you and me, between God and you. We don't leave anyone behind. We don’t discriminate against the weak. If anything, we discriminate against the strong and arrogant.”
“But many of them are weak precisely because you never gave them the chance or the choice to be strong. You screwed them up on the first day you brought the concepts of ‘God’ or ‘sin’ or ‘submission’ or ‘humility’ or ‘fear’ or ‘universal equality’ into their thinking.”
“Nonsense. They would think that on their own naturally. It's crafted into the biology of our brains. God put it there.”
“Why? I didn't think that. No one put it there for me.”
Belinas was furious now. Yet, he wasn't quite ready to begin waterboarding Jethro. He wondered how long he would last. Or if he was the honorable type to die first. The President and others in Congress wouldn't like that. Screw them, Belinas thought. There would just have to be some explanation of an accident. Killing Jethro Knights was in the best interest of billions of people. Belinas knew God approved. And the preacher overwhelmingly approved himself. It was all that mattered.
A moment later, the ceiling above them began to hum; lightly at first, then louder, until the entire compound was vibrating like a miniature earthquake. An engine making massive thunder was descending upon them. Belinas jumped up, unsure of what was happening. Then he understood when he saw Jethro grinning.
“You evil bastard,” the preacher shouted. He jumped up and ran for the door. The bodyguard on the other side opened it right as Belinas reached it, and said, “Reverend, I think we’re under attack. I’ve just been radioed by the lieutenant that some sort of giant aircraft is hovering outside the cave.”
Jethro glared at Belinas, who turned back at him irately. There was mockery and murder in the transhumanist's eyes.
Chapter 30
“He's right there, sir,” said the Transhumanian engineer to Preston Langmore, pointing to Jethro Knights’ image on the computer screen. “He’s quite far into the mountain—thirty-five meters or more. That's his heatwave body form, and the microchip in his head is blinking orange. The bots will deploy any second.”
“There they go,” announced Oliver Mbaye. He was watching a giant video screen—thirty feet by twenty feet—dominating the south wall in the Transhumania Defense Command Center. It aired everything the robots viewed from their Cyclops-like eyes. On the bottom left and right of the video screen flashed dozens of changing instructions and logistics. They were data messages being directly transmitted from the robots; it showed their positions, circumstances, and environmental assessments.
Forty yards from the military compound’s cavelike entrance, the flying drone Trano—nearly the length of a tennis court and with wings just as wide—hovered twenty-five feet off the ground. Its three glowing jet propulsion streams—each the diameter of a 100-year-old redwood tree trunk—created a deafening noise and blackened the earth underneath the ship. From the aircraft’s cargo door, Soldierbot and Weaponbot—each at least eight feet tall—jumped in succession to the ground. It was a jump no sane human would ever attempt. Two U.S. Army soldiers, hiding in a nearby camouflaged bunker built into the mountain, fired their M-60 machine guns at the steel masses falling to earth. But the bullets bounced futilely off them. Both robots landed perfectly, then stood up and scanned their surroundings, doling out thousands of calculations for their personal avatars sitting behind computers back at the command center on Transhumania.
After taking its scan, Soldierbot, gripping a golden cubelike gun, took aim and fired twice at the enemy soldiers in the bunker. There were no missed shots; both men were instantly killed. The robot used micro-GPS satellite triangulation when shooting. Wind, moisture, and dust in the air were accounted for via built-in sensors on its weapon. The margin of error for hitting its targets was less than a centimeter.
From the compound, the cave’s titanium doors opened, and three military jeeps carrying six soldiers each rushed out. The vehicles raced down the dirt road towards the aircraft, a trail of dust following them. When they neared the robots, the soldiers jumped out and took positions behind their jeeps, firing at the machines with their M-22s. Two of the soldiers carrying anti-aircraft weapons launched rockets at the stationary Transhumanian plane.
Weaponbot, bearing a hefty, canon-shaped right arm, quickly turned and took aim at the rockets streaming toward the ship. Using laser-guided precision, the robot’s arm weapon began spinning upon itself with astonishing speed. Out of it came a river of seven-inch armor-penetrating bullets that colored the surrounding air black. The ammunition was loaded in from an inflexible tube leading to a steel backpack on the machine's tall frame. The U.S. rockets were easily shot out of the sky before they neared the airshi
p. Then Weaponbot turned, aimed its arm at the soldiers, and fired. Within seconds, every man was pelted. Bones snapped in half. Flesh was ripped asunder. Legs, heads, and torsos flew everywhere. One of the jeeps exploded when it was hit, which sent smoke billowing.
When no humans in sight remained alive, Weaponbot turned around and stood unmoving, scanning the area, guarding the airship; its camera eye beamed shades of neon orange light from the middle of its round metallic forehead.
From the drone, two ports opened and missile heads inched out of the hull. At the imaging system back in Transhumania’s command center, calculations in a computer were made to fire two short-range rockets, to destroy the titanium cave door and give Soldierbot access to the compound.
On a nearby monitor, Preston Langmore watched horrified as three human-shaped heat images interacted erratically with each other in a basementlike room in the cave. One of the images pulled an L-shaped metallic object from the other and walked briskly to a fourth, seated figure. He pointed the object at the man’s head. The head belonged to Jethro Knights. A signal on the computer screen began flashing bright red.
************
Reverend Belinas screamed at his two bodyguards, “How the hell did they find us? We’re underground in the mountains, hidden in a half million tons of concrete and lead.”
The two guards were standing in the doorway of the torture room, trying to make radio contact with the lieutenant. All they could hear from their single walkie-talkie was rapid gunfire, aircraft engines, and the wailing of soldiers.
Then, in an instant, the shooting and wailing stopped, and only the roar of the aircraft could be heard.
Belinas screamed again. “How in God’s name did they find us?”
The Transhumanist Wager Page 41