I can’t imagine that too many people in the world have been bitten by Sri Lankan cobras that’ve had their venom glands removed, so it makes sense that the research isn’t out there, but all of this just makes me feel worse about what happened to Emilio.
“So,” Xavier says, “even if the cobras in the air tube hadn’t killed him, if he were bitten by the other snakes and had a panic attack down there, he might very well have thrashed around, agitated them, and died from cardiac arrest.”
We’re all quiet.
Somebody wanted Emilio dead, and they did not want him to die well.
As we make our way to my dressing room, Xavier and I bring Charlene up to speed about the transhumanism angle.
“Genetics, biotechnology, nanotechnology, robotics, information technology, and cognitive science,” Xav summarizes. “Advancements in those six areas are reshaping what it will mean to age and even what it means to be human. Watch the TED talk with Aubrey de Grey. He’s a little out there, but he makes some good points. He talks you through it step by step, his process of eliminating aging. He believes it’s immoral to keep children from staying young. He also thinks there are people living today who will live to be a thousand years old.”
“What?”
“Based on the idea that if you can expand someone’s life span for thirty years, then they’ll be around to experience the advantages of life-extending technology that will be developed in the meantime and will have their lives extended again, and again.”
“Until they’re a thousand years old.”
“In theory, yes.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Some people think it’s not so crazy at all.”
Once we’re inside, Xavier takes a seat on the countertop in front of the mirror and summarizes the issues involving The Singularity and autonomous weaponry.
Charlene looks impressed. “You two have been busy.”
“Xavier had all of this in his files already,” I explain. “I just finally gave him the chance to share it with me.”
“After all these years.”
“I might be a slow learner, but at least I’m teachable.”
“Not completely a lost cause.”
“Not completely.”
Charlene takes a moment to process everything. “Let’s say they do develop strong AI. How would they assure that the artilects don’t attack humans?”
“We would have to assure that they reflect our values,” I reply.
“Whose values?” scoffs Xavier. “I mean, whose morality do we stick the machines with? Which culture’s? Which religion’s? Protect the rights of women in Muslim countries? Protect the rights of unborn children in ours? If we really do make machines that reflect all of human nature, then we’ll end up with greedy, self-possessed, violent machines that’ll think nothing of genocide or even of annihilating humanity to achieve their goals. After all, that’s how humans have acted all throughout history. If we make machines capable of thinking like us, you can be certain they’ll turn on us eventually. No doubt about that.”
Wow. Those are encouraging thoughts.
But the more I think about it, the more I have to admit that Xavier is right on the money.
I’m playing out the implications of all this when there’s a light tap at the door. “Come in.”
Fionna and Maddie join us, and Maddie repositions her glasses as she takes a seat. “Okay, I’m going to tell you what I found out about immortal jellyfish, the only animal on the planet that, left on its own, will never die.”
Turritopsis Dohrnii
Okay, she has my attention now.
She dives right in.
“A fully grown Turritopsis dohrnii is tiny, not even the width of a dime. It doesn’t have a specialized reproductive system like we do, but is capable of asexual reproduction. They’re spreading almost uncontrollably in the oceans around the world, but that’s not what makes them unique. It has to do with transdifferentiation. After the Turritopsis dohrnii reaches sexual maturity, the cells of the jellyfish change and it reverts back to a polyp colony again.”
For a moment Fionna, Charlene, and I just stand there. Xavier doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the counter near the mirror.
Maddie looks at us strangely, as if what she just said should have produced more of a reaction. “Don’t you understand? Its cells change to an earlier stage in its life cycle.”
Charlene speaks first, asking the obvious question. “It gets younger?”
“Yes. It gets younger.”
“You’re saying that this jellyfish ages backward?” I exclaim. “How?”
“Transdifferentiation.”
“Which is…?”
“It’s when a non — stem cell transforms into a different type of cell. In this jellyfish, the cells in the umbrella of the medusa — the sexually mature jellyfish — invert, and the tentacles and the middle layer, called the mesoglea, are absorbed back in. It then reattaches to a rock and—”
“That’s the polyp colony part?” Xav asks her.
“Yes. After the embryonic stage, young jellyfish separate themselves from the mother, and then the larvae sink or float through the water until they come to something like a rock or piece of coral or the hull of a boat or something, then they attach themselves and develop into polyps. The polyp feeds on plankton, eventually forming a small colony of polyps that are interconnected with tiny feeding tubes.”
She takes a deep breath and then goes on. “Eventually, the colony forms horizontal grooves, and the uppermost one releases itself and becomes what we think of when we think of a jellyfish. At that stage it’s called a medusa. After that, the jellyfish doesn’t live long. It releases its gametes into the water, they form the fertilized egg, then the embryo or planula larva, and then another polyp colony begins.”
Now she’s starting to lose me.
Xavier too, apparently, because he looks a little bewildered. “Take us back to the jellyfish getting younger part.”
“In times of stress, like when it’s wounded or starving, the Turritopsis dohrnii is able to return to an earlier developmental stage and reproduce again. Like I was saying, it forms a polyp colony again, grows into a mature jellyfish, returns to a polyp colony.”
“So…” I can hardly believe I’m saying this. “You weren’t kidding when you said it will never die, that it lives forever?”
“Well, as long as it isn’t eaten or killed, it has biological immortality, yes.”
“You’re not exaggerating this, Maddie?” her mother presses her. “It doesn’t die?”
“In laboratory tests 100 percent of the Turritopsis dohrnii went through this process.”
“Transdifferentiation.”
“Yes, but”—she clarifies—“to be truly immortal, an organism would need to be immune to death, which isn’t the case here.”
We’re all silent for a moment.
I’m looking at the poster child for homeschooling families. I don’t care if she’s only nine, this girl should apply for graduate school.
“That was a very good oral report,” Xavier tells her.
“Thank you,” Maddie replies politely.
“I’d give you an A.”
“I will too,” Fionna adds. “Now, Maddie, if you’d be kind enough to give us a moment, I’ll be right with you and we can head back to the restaurant for lunch. Can you wait for me in the hall?”