I, Robot

As Harvard Prez ignites women-in-science flap, this writer recalls her path to M.I.T.

Years later, after I graduated, I ran into two of the three M.I.T. Extropians in New York City. What had happened to those three weirdos who fantasized about being lone misunderstood geniuses, of being Ender in Orson Scott Card's sci-fi classic Ender's Game? The ones that were going to cryogenically freeze themselves for life after death, who were going to upload their brains onto computers, who were investigating the deepest issues in artificial intelligence? None of them were actively doing science anymore. My former friend had discovered raves and told me excitedly that he'd spent the past year getting wildly immersed in San Francisco's psychedelic trance scene.

"No more Mahler?" I asked.

"No more Mahler."

Geeta Dayal is a writer living in Brooklyn. "The Acid Test," her story on LSD research, appeared last month in the Voice Education Supplement.

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