Incoming Transmission: Transhumanism and the Future of the Human Body (Part 13 – TRANSMISSION THREE)
T R A N S M I S S I O N T H R E E: We stumbled across a diary entry. It had no name and was found on the now abandoned first lunar eco-base. My colleagues and I assume it was written by a survivor of the first human-initiated ice-age, a catastrophe caused by the carelessness, greed and political squabbling that characterized that generation of the early 21st century. The author of the diary entry appears to have revolted against the stagnancy that … and was, perhaps, one of the first to take part in the lunar eco-base project.
I sailed to them on a block of ice. I came to them: the earth mothers and their farming husbands…
I’ll tell you what I saw on my travels, tell you I will.
I saw a directionless mob, reeling in nausea and horror. I saw the searchlight broken and the lighthouse unlit. I saw the language of genetics and glass rectangles turned vertical and piercing the clouds. Streets entirely paved, paved and finalized. “These are the routes, the everlasting streets” the young men would cry. Alas, neither walking nor sailing was thrilling anymore.
Nowhere is uncharted, not an inch of land mysterious. And in the laboratories these cartographers hanker after the one-true-law. Jovially they exclaim “Look at these streets, these maps, these feats of architectural will!”
I came to them, the bleeding brothers and their menstruating sisters…
I’ll tell you what I heard on my travels, tell you I will:
I said “look at the sky, look upwards!”. They turned their heads down to their oxen and one replied “we see only the blue atmosphere, then cold dead space, that vacuous abyss”.
Another spoke up and said “And beyond space? There is only the proud throne of heaven!”
They turned and walked in three circles, turning back to me with pharmaceutical pills in their hands.
Their eyes were dark, unlit, turned back in on themselves. (This is what happens dear friends, when discovery dies)
They took the pills, one by one and fell asleep. Sleeping and sleeping, until the following afternoon, awaking briefly to sporadically study the past, listen to music their fathers and grandfathers sang, and never, never-ever think about the future.
Better leave that for the…
They live in white houses and grey dim rectangles, in, on and high above the earth – and yet all of them look nowhere but within, content with sifting through the mountainous clutter of the past. They buy and inject, smoke and fuck…there is nothing for them, the suicidals of energy.
They want the earth, they want to smoke their weeds and lie in a bed of soft feathers. And yet, whose eyes are on the future? What can make their eyes rotate in their heads? Where is the direction, unsureness and fear? Where is there nearby a great ocean uncharted and awe inspiring? Where is that expanse? That infinite void opened by God’s now rotting corpse?
This is what I shall tell them: “Men of Earth, growing like me more vacuous and empty, fat in sureness, yet thin in boldness and vigor:
Time is flying and the hour is approaching. I heard eleven chimes only an hour ago. Laugh and laugh you farmers, chant and howl you goddesses, for nothing on earth can save you now.” “Well, crumble then, society! Perish, old world!”
All of a sudden I awoke traveling with a small woman. Her arms were as thin as a blade of glass. Yet what am I? Below was the earth, cold and black. On it were the humans, requesting to remain back, to die with dignity, to die as men should! Smiling, the fire of the past consumes them. – upward and upward we sail until the earth is eventually as small as a tiny tooth – blue, green and black. How long have I been out here? I have not needed these pills. Not once have I slept away the sunshine. For here, in this new environ I am afraid, my eyes are always searching and scanning for some shark of the cosmos, some gale of the stars.
And what a relief, not a single paved road, paved and completed.
T R A N S M I S S I O N F O U R: This final document recovered and most similar to our modern day sentiment. I have transmitted it to the University on Lunar-7 for further investigation.
.We were unable to accept the natural, and with that inability went our acceptance of death.
..For why should we look forward to the loss of our individuation? As good humans should?
…Our orientation shifts to a heliocentric view, one recognizing the unkind nature of the universe.
….I am not of the earth but the earth and the stars.
…..I am not a man but a man and what comes beyond men.
……I am not a hero content with immortality in myth but a noble coward who seeks immortality in flesh.
…….I cannot accept the death of my body for without it I am not.
……..So what am I?
………Yes, it is death that gives man a horizon.
……….It is death that gives his life meaning?
………..But what does death mean to me, who has gone past the human?