Transhumanist Wager, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

excellence. He had mostly F or A
grades through junior high and high school—either a genius or an idiot, one
admissions officer grumbled. A high school counselor echoed something similar:
The guy who throws curves out of whack or finishes last—or not at all. Jethro’s
aptitude tests were filled with Scantron pencil marks bearing anarchist
symbols, upside-down crosses, and his favorite math symbol: pi . No,
Jethro's grades and test scores did not get him into Victoria. He was admitted
for his entrance essay—some of the most intense and impressive words the dean
had ever read.
    Dean Graybury was new on the job.
He was a recent executive hire from one of Silicon Valley's leading technology
companies. He was brought on to fulfill the promise that he would bring the
country’s brightest innovators through the university's doors. To do so, his
newest admissions initiative was to look for outliers, that one-in-a-million
student who may not play by the rules, because he’s able to write better
ones—or at least more interesting ones. For the past twenty years, many of the
top students at Victoria were simply boring, coming from old, complacent,
pedigree-bearing families. The dean, a closet transhumanist, wanted new ideas,
new blood, new directions. He wanted the university to think like a tech
startup when admitting students, hungry for market dominance and a booming
future. Perfect grades, high test scores, and typical extracurricular ideas
were not enough anymore, he insisted. Students were needed who could think
outside the box, be vivaciously creative, and shape a new world. Humankind was
evolving so quickly with advancements in technology, the dean strategized, that
new talent was required to steer it correctly and safely.
    Jethro Knights was an ideal
candidate.
    Besides, the dean thought, the
assaulted football player was a known meathead with a history of bullying
people in his classes and fraternity. And the dean disliked both the Greek
system and football.
    Watching students on the campus
lawn through his corny Gothic office window, Dean Graybury sighed. He was unsure
of what to do. The chancellor of the university had insisted he expel Jethro.
But the dean liked the young man, or what little he knew about him. He thought
of Jethro’s shadowy past: an only child, whose Swedish mother and Austrian
father disappeared as European diplomats in Iran when he was just six years
old. Religious extremists were rumored to be responsible. Jethro’s father was
publicly critical of the Koran—or any religious text—as a tool to govern
society. Lamentably, neither Jethro’s parents nor their remains ever surfaced,
and the truth behind their disappearance was never discovered. The boy was sent
to Los Angeles and raised there, partly by an old aloof uncle, partly by foster
homes after the uncle had died. There didn't appear to be any rogue childhood
issues—no hindrances, no criminal record, no major academic or disciplinary
issues. On his college application, his extracurricular skills simply stated:
transhuman philosopher.
    For the nearly 50,000 students
applying to Victoria University’s 2,500 admission spots, it was unremarkable.
But the essay Jethro wrote with his application was like nothing the dean
thought possible from a teenager. It was more a declaration then an essay. It
was a damning critique of the widespread fear of designer evolution. Evocative,
compelling, and eloquent, it tore apart religious dogma and blasted traditionalism.
It concluded by promoting outright aggression towards opponents. You took a
critical chance writing about that to such a school—as conservative as it
was—and not about your merit scholarships, or national piano championships, or
the state track records you broke. Yet the dean wished he had written that
essay when he was only seventeen years old—and maybe even now. He accepted
Jethro to the school, overruling a unanimous veto by the stuffy admissions
staff. 
    But now this: a