When man meets metal: rise of the transhumans
The headline acts of the conference were
At least that was the idea. The reality of the convention was a little more mundane. It was overpriced and sparsely attended. Disparate and awkward groups of the pierced and the tattooed wandered between lectures about the ethics of body augmentation, and budget demonstrations of virtual worlds, past stalls flogging various kinds of neurotropic snake oil or enthusing over the transforming possibilities of magnets and LED lights inserted under the skin.
Occasionally, over a long couple of days, there was a genuine spark of wonder – the demonstration of a vest that converted sound into multiple vibrations felt across the back, promising a new way for deaf people to hear; a drummer who had lost an arm, and had customised his own prosthetic that could now play like Buddy Rich; a woman, Moon Ribas, who had wired herself to experience tiny shifts in tectonic plates, and was converting those tremors into choreography.
