Posthumanism and Transhumanism: The Myth of Perfectibility – Divergent Worlds?

S.C. Hickman's avatarThe Dark Forest: Literature, Philosophy, and Digital Arts

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

– James Joyce

Enhancement. Why shouldn’t we make ourselves better than we are now? We’re incomplete. Why leave something as fabulous as life up to chance?

– Richard Powers,  Generosity: An Enhancement

In Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow a point is reached in the text in which the inexorable power of an accelerating capitalism is shown out of control mutating into something else something not quite human:

The War needs electricity. It’s a lively game, Electric Monopoly, among the power companies, the Central Electricity Board, and other War agencies, to keep Grid Time synchronized with Greenwich Mean Time. In the night, the deepest concrete wells of night, dynamos whose locations are classified spin faster, and so, responding, the clock-hands next to all the old, sleepless eyes— gathering in their minutes whining, pitching higher toward the vertigo of a siren. It is the Night’s…

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Flowers In A Jar

Venus’s star
Will shine bright
Tonight
On flowers in a jar.

Lovers will raise
A glass in praise
Of the goddess most fair
And stare
In rapture
At the blooms which so exquisitely capture
The essence of Valentine’s day,
For they
being artificial, can not fade away

We must transform into Cyborgs or become irrelevant as AI takes over the world, Elon Musk claims

This article, “We must transform into Cyborgs or become irrelevant as AI takes over the world, Elon Musk claims”, (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-4220202/Elon-Musk-thinks-AI-human-symbiotes.html), prompted me to pen my poem of 13 February, (https://newauthoronline.com/2017/02/13/mans-destiny/).

Man’s Destiny

“Man’s destiny is …” they say
And, looking far away,
Weave fancies in the air
(For which I do not care).

To sit by an open pub fire
Fulfils my heart’s desire,
Yet they can not leave it alone
(This desire to transform skin and bone
Into silicone).

I hear the ticking clock
And feel inner peace,
But they will not cease
In their search to unlock
That which, perhaps keeps us sane,
(This imperfect human brain).

“We must transcend
The human and ascend
To the sky.
We can be as gods, you and I”,
They proclaim.

Shall I mention Icarus’s name?
A passing commotion
In the ocean
There was when the boy fell,
Or so the mythologists tell.

What The Neighbours See

What the neighbours see
Need not concern you and me,
For our lives are so boring
We will have them snoring.
So lets continue ignoring
The twitching curtain
For it is certain
They can only perceive
The milkman leave
The milk,
As we wave him goodbye in our dressinggown of silk …

What the neighbours spy
Need not concern you and I
For walls are thin
And we can not help but hear the din
Of the squeaking bed
When Mrs Ed
Is away.
So we say
“Hi”
As we pass by
But do not catch our neighbour’s eye …

Inane

All pop songs sound the same.
Different voices
Singing of supermarket choices
Made by airheads who cavort
To music bought
By those who find a temporary bliss,
In a kiss,
Then move on to the next passing fad.

I am glad
For the snow came today.
It will not stay
But this cold I feel
Reminds me what is real.
I shall pray for rain
For it cleanses this inane
Civilisation of ours
And causes the flowers to bloom.