ONCE THERE WAS a genetical singing mouse whose future of "true godlike intelligence" (Artilect War 180, 183) was not yet out. Along with tiny voice Mouse came bat wing mouse and human ear Vacanti mouse (#2). Not to immortalize or sing this mouse was the moral tragedy of not building gods, for those ephemeral little lives so worthless, so insignificant," when compared (Artilect War, 186). From this human existence got the drift, “so petty, so trivial, so banal, so insignificant" (87).
We know all this from reading Hugo, I want to call him Roland de Garis, who blew his horn and said, "from the galactic point of view, would it matter much if the human were wiped out? I think the universe would not give a damn" (89). Why does the physicist quantum quark not reconcile with Fibonacci on these shell and leaf spirals? Order and chaos, yes and no, but wiping out the mouse would be a tragedy. Beam me up Scotty! Save the mouse! Wipe out the man? Why doesn’t the transhuman universe give a damn if Kafka does? "Being Cosmist and more intelligent… I suspect that those people [Galactics, have] higher IQs" (Artilect, 89).
More Mouse Wipe Out
We care about this mouse because little man (H) is defunct too: "too stupid, and have too small a brain to speculate on anything, unless it’s about their immediate survival" (Artilect 179). Ditto the dumb-bunny baby, ble, ble, ble, the ideal rabbit, Dudeney’s cows, honeybees, the "apelike thoughts of chimps." Ditto, but, but if artilect slips, as mouse has accidents and men, and doesn’t "develop life-preserving strategies" to avoid falling into a star, then oops "the laws of physics" it removes (Artilect 180). Thus the Absolut of science invents one law and another.
As mice are men, de Garis and Kurzweil will not need their brains, like Yeats his nymphs and satyrs in the foam, super labs will mate humans and animals to make Humanzee a new man. These anyway were the thoughts of the Wold Company as we sang to the severed heads, “I think I can, I think I can.” We gave injections when those heads slavered and palavered, sang to the injectors spinning: “Rockabye godbey in the test tube, now you’ll find out how a man makes god.” Sling another round of viscose into them. Mouse/viscouse.
Sensory experiments enhanced a man’s nose who could now chat with a devil and smell like a dog. Ancient DNA's revived to join the crew underground, which in Latin means subvert or turn from below. Trillions of brain cells came online so the present man-god could prevent this tragedy of not building god. Crimes against the mouse, murine (mouse) hybridomas, hybrid cell lines that create Monoclonal antibody therapies for treatment of human disease, were long old hat, like replacing herbs with microbial transformation. Level 1 stuff, loss leaders, Trojan Horses, gimmes. After you have sacrificed millions and millions of mice, and raised your sights to Pig-Man fluorescent cats and dogs and spider-goats, rabbits don’t seem much, or cows experimented on, horse) because the one overriding purpose preoccupies, “a mindset and attitude so different from the average human that they may as well be a separate species
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