a return to the body

Under strict secrecy, prototype B-612 was known only to a few members of Kassala’s highest bureaucratic echelon. It was during an informal meeting with ministers, magistrates, and distinguished representatives of civil society — all puppets in the iron hands of the powerful Maagael — that Senator Peter Goltz learned of the spectacular advances in the TRANSCEND Project. There was talk of the development of psychic powers — telekinesis, mind reading — and, of course, the overcoming of the body, the triumph of the mind over matter.

“What are you whispering about over there, my colleagues in robes and drinks?” The man approaching was Judge Marcel Gauchet, a short, jovial and libertine fellow who would butt into various guests’ conversations and was generally well-liked for often softening sentences in favor of his friends and protégés. “I heard we’ll soon be able to swap bodies like we swap shirts. Is that true?”

“According to Dr. Suzana’s reports, yes,” replied a skinny old man with yellowish skin and slanted features, a member of the Order of Benefactors. “It will be an exercise in purification, like in the ancient legends of soul transmigration, an ascension to new states of consciousness beyond biology. We will overcome current social conventions, overcome family, the notion of homeland, overcome marriage, sex…”

“My friend,” Gauchet interrupted, “overcome the body?! Very well, I agree, that’s great, but no one overcomes sex!”

“Forgive me, I was imprecise. I meant sexual difference. Overcoming man and woman toward Humanity, without any gender distinction. The ecstasy provided by sex,” the religious man continued, imperturbable, “will henceforth be obtained through other means — intellectual, moral, spiritual.”

“Your logic is hard to follow, Benefactor,” Gauchet mocked. “In a world populated by ghosts without chains to drag, who will still care about something as practical and down-to-earth as morality? And what will become of this intellectual love without the itch of physical needs to, I won’t say arouse it, but even awaken it? It’s useless to try to convince me of the validity of these nonsense about the beauty of spiritual practices. If everyone becomes spirits, there will no longer be any point in the existence of spiritualists like you!”

Gauchet, a remarkable rhetorician and master of oral disputes since his days as State Prosecutor General, took over the debate and became the center of attention. Even without access to the report that the Benefactor had read so keenly, the judge showed particular interest in sharing his opinions on the progress achieved by prototype B-612.

“You know me, I’m a confessed sensualist. I’ve devoted a good part of my life and fortune to cultivating the garden of delights that would always keep at my disposal the pleasures of hearing, touch, taste, sight, and smell. Now I receive the news that a sixth sense is coming. The amplification of consciousness, the leap out of our animal carcass, as they say—” Gauchet searched for the sad countenance of the Benefactor, but the man had already silently slipped away from the meeting “—will take Humanity to a new level of moral, intellectual, and spiritual reality, perhaps very soon. But those who think we must discard matter in the process are mistaken. Every exit from the body will, in truth, be a return to the body. Do we have senses that are degraded or underdeveloped because of age, genetics, or morbid and sickly conditions? The solution will be simple, because it will no longer be a solution — always subject to the ironies of duration and the acidity of time — but a total conversion: turning each man into another man. I see an empire forming on the horizon. Its name? Consciousness. Its goal? To conquer territories. Expanded consciousness is this: we will be able to colonize a thousand lives, rediscover Desire one day, have the desired on the next, and be the desired in the days that follow. The joy of living comes from variety, and TRANSCEND seems to promise us a variety free from the claws of boredom and the intermittences of death.”

Like so many others on that occasion, Peter Goltz was hypnotized by the mixture of mockery and prophecy in Gauchet’s words, but he gave no more importance to the whispered rumors and bombastic predictions surrounding the TRANSCEND than he would to a session of scientific curiosities in some cultural magazine flipped through while waiting at the barber. It was only fifteen months after the meeting, imbued with a frantic hope, that Peter Goltz requested an audience with Maagael. The matter was delicate, as it concerned both a family matter and a state secret.

“As interim president of this country, I have to deal daily with inconvenient petitioners and senseless requests, Senator Goltz. I’m sorry about your daughter, but are you sure you want to see her serve as a test subject in the North Dome? I read the latest quarterly report and it’s true that TRANSCEND has progressed considerably. That doesn’t mean the mortality rates have decreased. The risks are high, for better or for worse.”

“It’s preferable that she risks her life than continue as she is. I’ve already spoken with Karen’s mother, and we are all in agreement to pay the necessary costs. Transporting the body won’t be a problem; I have a spacious spacecraft at my disposal and a loyal pilot who knows how to keep quiet and ask no questions beyond those required by strict duty. I just want to see my daughter happy again, smiling, walking, hugging her parents…”

Peter Goltz left the audience chamber accompanied by one of the dictator’s secretaries. The secretary led him to the left wing of the building, where several octagonal panoptic communication booths were installed. Only agents directly linked to the government’s top leadership were authorized to use them for telepresence interviews with various authorities across the country. The panoptic network, protected by state-of-the-art cryptography, was a native technological innovation that blocked internal hacker attacks and any attempts at intercepting confidential conversations by foreign powers’ spies.

“Dr. Anoka is already on the line. Tell her everything. The approval of your request depends on her opinion. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Once inside the booth, Goltz was faced with a life-sized teleprojected image of a woman. A plump young woman with Mongolian features, pale skin, between twenty-five and thirty years old, with straight black hair falling a little past her shoulders, a short forehead, and a small dimple in her chin.

“Senator Goltz, how are you? I’m Anoka, Dr. Suzana’s assistant. I’m here to listen to you. It is rare for volunteers to appear for the experiments conducted at the North Dome. Tell me your story from the beginning.”