“Commendably egalitarian, Doctor. But does it ever work out that way? All new things-from toys to tools of power-tend to be gathered up first by some human elite. Often as a way to stay elite.”
Sato arched an eyebrow. “Now who’s sounding radical? Are you suggesting we revisit the Class War?”
“It’s a simple question, Professor. How will you ensure that everyone gets to share these mental augmentations you seek? Won’t equality be stymied by the very same human diversity you celebrate?”
“Explain, please.”
“Suppose you find a way to enhance human intelligence. Or for people to focus attention more creatively, beyond the Thurman Barrier. Assume the process is cheap with few side effects…” It was her turn to express doubt, with an ironic lift of an eyebrow for the jewelcam. “And further that your process isn’t monopolized by some clade of aristos, who use wealth or influence or public safety as an excuse-”
“Are you really that suspicious of aristocracy?” Sato tried to cut in. “How old-fashioned.”
And how out of touch you are, she thought. If you haven’t sensed the recent shifts back toward conflict. But Tor forged on.
“-even assuming all of that, there will be no way to avoid one final division-between those who choose to accept your gift, and those who do not.”
“Our… gift.” Sato mulled for a moment. Then he turned back to her with a gaze that seemed dark, glittering. “You know, our modern endeavor as would-be godmakers, to use your term, is not without precedent. The dream goes back a long way. For example, it is said that after Prometheus was chained to a rock, in punishment for giving humanity the boon of fire, his children thereupon chose to live among men. Made families with them. Reinforced his gift by breeding divinity into the race. And there are countless other legends-even in the Judeo-Christian Bible-implying the same thing.”
“Stories about humans trying to be godlike. But don’t most of them portray that as sin? Prometheus was punished. Frankenstein gets killed by his creature. The Tower of Babel crumbles amid chaos.”
Bridging his fingers, Sato intoned: “‘And the Lord said, See, they are all one people and have all one language; and this is only the start of what they may do: and now it will not be possible to keep them from any purpose of theirs.’”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Babel. Building a tower to heaven. The attempt failed when we were deliberately sabotaged by a curse of mutual incomprehension, by forcing us to speak a multitude of languages. Most theologians have interpreted the Babel story the way you just did-as showing God angry at humanity, for this act of hubris.
“But read it more carefully. There is no anger! Not a trace. No mention of anybody suffering or dying, as they surely do in murderous mass-fury, at Sodom, or in Noah’s flood, or innumerable cases of heavenly wrath. There’s none of that in the story of Babel! Sure, we were thwarted, confused, and scattered. But was that meant to stymie us forever? From achieving what the passage clearly says we can achieve? What perhaps we’re ultimately meant to achieve?
“Maybe the confusion was meant just to delay things. For us to learn by overcoming obstacles. In fact, didn’t the
“Recall what scripture says-there’s no limit to our potential. We’re inherently able to do or be anything. Anything at all. So, what’s to stop us now?”
Tor stared at the neuroscientist. Are you kidding? she thought. Clearly, at one level, he was pulling her leg. And yet, equally, he meant all this. Took it seriously.
“What do ancient myths have to do with the question at hand? The issue of arrogant scientific ambition?”
“The old tales show how long humans have pondered this problem! Like, whether it is proper to pick up the same tools the Creator used to make us. What could be a more meaningful concern?”
“All right then.” Tor nodded, with an inward sigh, if Sato wanted to look foolish on camera, so be it. “Don’t most legends answer in the negative? Preaching against hubris?” Tor didn’t bother defining the term. Her audience was generally with it. They’d have instant vocaib.
“Yes,” Sato agreed. “During the long Era of Fear, lasting six to ten thousand years, priests and kings sought-above all-to keep peasants in their place. So naturally, ambition was discouraged! Churches called it sinful to question your local lord. Even worse to question God. You brought up the Tower of Babel. Or, take Adam and Eve, cast out of Eden for tasting from the tree of knowledge.”
“Or the mistake of Brahma, or the machine of Soo Song, or countless other cautionary fables.” She nodded. “The Renunciation Movement mentions all of them, forecasting big trouble-possibly another
“Hm.” Sato pondered a moment. “You seem to be well read. Do you know your Book of Genesis?”
“Reasonably well. It’s a cultural keystone.”
“Then, can you tell me which passage is the only one-in the whole Bible-that portrays God asking a favor, out of pure curiosity?”
Tor knew this interview had spun out of control. It wasn’t being netcast live, so she could edit later. Still, she noted a small figure in a corner of her aiware. Twenty-three MediaCorp employees and stringers were watching. Make that twenty-four. And with high interest levels. All right, then, let’s run with it.
“Offhand, I can’t guess what passage you have in mind, Dr. Sato.”
He leaned toward her. “It’s a moment in the Bible that comes before that darned apple, when the relationship between Creator and created was still pure, without any of the later tsuris of wrathful expulsion, gritty battles, or redemption… or egotistical craving for praise.”
He’s sincere about this, Tor realized, reading his eyes. A biologist, a would-be godmaker-meddler… yet, a believer.
“You still don’t recall? It’s brief. Most people just glide past and theologians barely give it a glance.”
“Well, you have our interest, Doctor. Pray tell. What is this special biblical moment?”
“It’s when God asks Adam to name the beasts. Perhaps the only moment that’s truly like parent and child, or teacher and favored pupil. Indeed, what better clue to what humanity was created for? Since it had nothing to do with sin, redemption, or any of that later vex.”
“Created for…?” she prompted. Interested, even though she could now see where he was going, and wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Names have creative power! Like the equations God used to cast forth light and start the cosmos. What action makes up half of science? Naming moons, craters, planets, species, and molecules… even wholly new living things that men and women now synthesize from scratch. What could that passage represent other than a master craftsman watching in approval, while His apprentice starts down the road of exploration?
“A road that led to Babel, where premature success might have spoiled everything… so He made the naming process more challenging! Still taking the apprentice toward one destination-a role and duty that was intended all along.