Mr. Freeze
I once shared a house with a cryonicist. This bloke - we'll call him B - was determined that his head would be frozen after death, preserved until future science was advanced enough to bring him back. Then he could impart his twentieth century wisdom to our naive descendents.
B was systems developer. Uber-geeky, single for life and living in a down-at-heel multishare house, he had a significant amount of disposable income. A very small portion was spent on rent, canned goods and a paperback book each week. The rest was ploughed into the cryonics fund.
He had a living will ready prepared. At the point of death, his blood would be replaced with a non-aqueous fluid, reducing the likelihood of ice crystal formation, then a trained technician would sever his head and place it in a preservation container chilled by liquid Nitrogen. Said head would then be flown to the US to join other cryonicists in their long wait for a new life.
Science would triumph, of that B was certain. Given long enough, cures would be found for the illness that brought him down. Medical techniques would advance enough to tackle the damage caused by the freezing process. There would be fixes for whatever injuries he might have sustained pre-mortem. A method would be found for attaching his head to that of a perfect future body, creating a fusion of his intellect and an Adonis-like physical form. What's more, he would be a chick-magnet.
We talked about it for hours, B and I. He was single-minded and certain. Arguing was impossible; any disagreement with the plan and he would all but stick his fingers in his ears and "la, la, la" until the room was quiet again. Like a cult member, he had excluded his family when they objected to his scheme.
It's twenty years later B, and I have thought about you now and then. Assuming that you're not already a head in a bottle and you stumble across this blog, just give it up. I still don't believe that you'll be resurrected. Certainly not for anything other than amusement value. Why, oh why would they want a twenty-first century programmer with the life experience of a monk. Go out and spend your money on coke and whores. Indulge yourself. Life is far too short to be wasted on a vague chance of a better one next time.
Comments
you're an idiot, an animal. You cannot apply your rational faculty to the cryonics problem because your animal nature has not yet been overcome.
Posted by: unperson | May 19, 2007 10:01 PM
Ha! I've been flamed by a cryonicist and, judging by the URL he or she is hiding behind, a transhumanist extropian as well. Hurrah!
What a reasoned argument; I feel thoroughly chastised (smirk). Thank you for proving my point about your single-minded obsession. Now go put that ice-bucket back on, sit in the corner and practice for the big day, popsicle!
Posted by: Joe | May 19, 2007 10:22 PM
I see that this blog entry is featuring in Technorati this morning. I'd better batten down the hatches.
It did throw up a factual error for which I apologise. Blame it on my failing middle-aged memory.
Post mortem, cryonicists are most likely to be transported to the US - rather than across the Channel as I originally suggested. Cryonics is illegal in France.
I was, no doubt, mixing my own experience of B (give me a break, it was nearly 20 years ago and I really don't think about him that often!) with the the news reports about French cryonicist Yvan Bozzonetti and the shenanigans with his mother's remains.
I've fixed the entry to avoid confusion.
Posted by: Joe | May 20, 2007 8:26 AM