Presenting the fact and fiction of tomorrow since 2001
It’s the return of the Mac! In this instalment of his Loving The Alien column, transhuman ufologist Mac Tonnies has been thinking about a subject that is dear to us all … but whose dearness is inexplicable when observed from a rational perspective.
Which leads you to wondering - what will Posthuman Sex look like? Continue reading “Posthuman Sex”
Couldn’t resist reposting this one for those of you who haven’t seen it elsewhere - octopus suction-cup body-mod implants!
The meat can (and will) be hacked. Nothing else needs to be said.
Via the indispensable TerraNova blog comes word that no other organ than the New York Times itself is running an article that talks about the Simulation Argument. This exceptionally science-fictional slice of philosophy, created by one Nick Bostrom, contends that the reality we exist within is in fact a simulation of extraordinary complexity, and we are just very cunningly scripted artificial intelligences within it.
What’s interesting is that John Tierney (for the NYT) seems more convinced of Bostrom’s theory than Bostrom himself. It’s a head-twistingly paradoxical piece of thinking, so much so that even George Dvorsky finds it makes his brain hurt - which makes me feel slightly better about being in the same situation.
But my main concern is this - if Bostrom and Tierney are correct, and this really is just a simulation, haven’t they now sent a rather obvious signal to the builders of the simulation that the inmates have seen behind the wizard’s curtain? What if the success of the simulation is dependent on our ignorance of it being one? But then, surely they’d have programmed against that contingency - code is law, after all … but that sounds like the arguments for the ineffability of a deity creating mankind with free will! Good grief … if anyone needs me, I’ll be slumped in the corner surrounded by Greg Egan novels and an empty bottle of gin.
Ray Kurzweil has long been a cheerleader for the posthuman ideal, tirelessly championing what he sees as the almost limitless potential of human beings as we become increasingly merged with our technologies. Whether you believe he’s a delusional crank or a visionary prophet, there’s no denying that he talks
a good game - his latest essay for the Lifeboat Foundation examines the plausibility of transcending our biological limitations through technology, and it’s inspirational stuff.
Futurismic’s resident purveyor of gender- and identity-bending fiction, Ruth Nestvold, brings us a story about the dangers of escaping your own skin - “Exit Without Saving”.
Spending credit illegally was difficult, but there were ways, if you were clever. There were always ways. Using a morph unit illegally was even more difficult, but to Mallory it was worth the risk.
Friends like Lorraine made it possible. Lorraine was a lab technician for Softec, and she was both clever and greedy; to make a little extra on the side, she allowed Mallory to use the units during off hours. Mallory had no idea if any of the other morph agents were also clandestine customers — Lorraine could be trusted to keep her mouth shut.
“I don’t understand why they don’t market these things for entertainment purposes,” Lorraine said as she adjusted the download cap on Mallory’s head. Continue reading “EXIT WITHOUT SAVING by Ruth Nestvold”
“His Whore The Vector” by David McGillveray is a dark tale about dictators, revenge and what violence wreaks.
The palace was a monstrosity in poured concrete with clumps of antennae bristling from every roof. Nadine was driven to an anonymous side entrance guarded by militiamen and taken inside. The door groaned shut behind her.
Behind the walls, the gardens had been left to wither in the heat. Desiccated roses lay in mass graves and a fine covering of dust clung to every surface. Nadine was led into the cool gloom of the main complex. The slap of her escort’s boots echoed along the maze of corridors: always a different route, always the same destination.
Gerber was waiting: white, white skin untouched by the sun, shaven head and flat, colourless eyes that kept the world out. The European mercenary had been rewarded for his enthusiastic bloodletting a decade ago in the purges with a position heading security for the most notorious butcher of them all. Continue reading “HIS WHORE THE VECTOR by David McGillveray”
