Stop Thinking About Good Things!
No Nietzschean preaching or any other potentially anti-human nonsense will follow. I promise. I've already tossed out the motivational speeches and wise old sermons back in the previous book — for your sake, and frankly, for my own sanity.
I'm simply thinking aloud here — pondering what might trouble people on their sweet, sticky little path to immortality. What dilemmas keep them up at night? What gets their blazing hearts all fired up?
So, just to be clear: "No Human Experimentation, okay?" We'll keep things smooth, clean, and drama-free. The bones of Dr. Mengele have long since rotted away, and with his scattered ashes went all the torturous nonsense he embodied. (Officially, at least.)
The point is: people often overestimate — or downright demonize — those so-called "hellish" scientists who are supposedly out there torturing everyone just to reach some creepy goal. And sure, there *are* a few bad apples. But the majority?
Nope.
Most of them are reined in by their own inner ethics (turns out, not actual demons!) and, of course, by the criminal laws of their respective countries. But here's the kicker: even when they're not torturing anyone — not even a cockroach — protests still flare up over *anything* they do that doesn't involve inventing a cuter type of nano-teapot. That kind of resistance really slows things down.
And guess what else it slows down? Your own chances of cheating death.
That's right. Keep blocking scientific progress and you'll soon be cuddling up with the one group of creatures who don't care about protest signs — grave worms. Those guys are very eager to take care of you.
Now, don't get me wrong — civic awareness is awesome. But medieval paranoia in the 21st century? That's just... shit, dude. There's a difference between classic skepticism and grumpy boomerism.
Thinking about the fate and soulful suffering of a grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean, about brown-nosing your boss, about a blissful retirement under clear skies, or about a hundred or two grandchildren and great-grandchildren lovingly clutching your hand (conveniently ignoring that your hand physically can't accommodate that many touchpoints) — all of that just adds more syrupy brushstrokes to the Paint program of your brain.
Everything turns cute, sweet, innocent, pure... and let me quickly remind you that it's still the same brain feeding you those images to cover its own ass. Shoving away the pain, horror, and terrifying glimpses of the future helps it survive today and tomorrow. And if a nasty little aneurysm decides to blow up the day after tomorrow — well, hey, that's life! You spent your previous days living peacefully, blissfully unaware.
Let's get back to more practical and mundane issues that could genuinely worry a newbie cyber-samurai on the road to immortality. What should concern them first, second, and at every turn? Of course — cash!
"Immortality won't be for everyone! Evil chubby cats, corporate owners, and even some sneaky waiter at a Bilderberg Club will snatch it all for themselves. No doubt about it!"
They'll set some insane price tag of ten billion dollars, and only they'll get to savor the fruits of this new happiness, while the rest of us are left gnawing at our elbows and hopelessly dreaming of somehow scraping together that cash, which, of course, will never happen..."
A beautiful and, more importantly, perfectly natural question.