PRINT September 1996



IT WOULD HAVE EASILY qualified as Grand Guignol. Timothy Leary, the man who brought psychedelic drugs to the already hallucinatory United States of Disneyland, thereby adding a dimension of cosmic delirium to the hysteria accompanying our migration into hyperreality, was threatening to die on the Net. And then, members of ALCOR, a cryonic preservation company, were going to chop off his head and preserve it. There he’d have waited, not dead (according to his own self-definition) but deanimated, for the arrival of nanotechnology—engineering on the level of molecules. Through nanotechnology, “The Commodore” wouldn’t merely have been reanimated, he’d have been brought back to perfect health by little nanomachines coursing through his bloodstream, fixing things throughout his body.

My, but it would have been a fine media spectacle. And while nearly all of Leary’s friends seemed relieved

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