Did Some Editing Myself → From Nick Bostrom’s: The Dragon Tyrant

Once upon a time, the planet was tyrannized by a giant dragon. Its red eyes glowed with hate, and from its terrible jaws flowed a constant stream of evil-smelling yellowish-green slime. It demanded from humankind a blood-curdling tribute: to satisfy its enormous appetite, one hundred and fifty thousand men and women had to be delivered every evening at the onset of dark to the foot of the mountain where the dragon-tyrant lived. Sometimes the dragon would devour these unfortunate souls upon arrival; sometimes, it would lock them up in the mountain where they would wither away for months or years before eventually being consumed.

The misery inflicted by the dragon-tyrant was incalculable. In addition to the hundred and fifty thousand gruesomely slaughtered each day, there were the mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, children, and friends that were left behind to grieve the loss of their departed loved ones.

Some people tried to fight the dragon, but whether they were brave or foolish was difficult to say. Seeing that defeating the tyrant was impossible, humans had no choice but to obey its commands and pay the grisly tribute. The fatalities selected were always elders. Although senior people were as vigorous and healthy as the young, and sometimes wiser, the thinking was that they had at least already enjoyed a few decades of life. The wealthy might gain a brief reprieve by bribing the press gangs that came to fetch them, but by constitutional law, nobody, not even the king himself, could put off their turn indefinitely.

Spiritual men sought to comfort those who were afraid of being eaten by the dragon (which included almost everyone, although many denied it in public) by promising another life after death, a life that would be free from the dragon-scourge. Other orators argued that the dragon has its place in the natural order and a moral right to feed. They said that it was part of the very meaning of being human to end up in the dragon's stomach. Others still maintained that the dragon was suitable for the human species because it kept the population size down. To what extent these arguments convinced the worried souls is not known. Most people tried to cope by not thinking about the grim end that awaited them.

For many centuries this desperate state of affairs continued. Expectations had gradually adjusted, and the dragon-tyrant had become a fact of life. Given the evident futility of resistance, attempts to kill the dragon had ceased. Instead, efforts now focused on deeming the dragon's stomach not so terrible and extending the period before the dragon wanted to eat them.

The king employed servants in large numbers to administer the tribute. Registrars kept track of the people sent away. Some people-collectors dispatched prestigious dragon fodder in special carts. Clerks gave pensions to the decimated families who were no longer able to support themselves.

There was, moreover, a cadre of dragonologists who studied how these logistic processes could be made more efficient. Some dragonologists also conducted studies of the dragon's physiology and behavior and collected samples – its shed scales, the slime that drooled from its jaws, its lost teeth, and its excrements, which were speckled with fragments of human bone. All these items were painstakingly annotated and archived.

To finance all these activities, the king levied heavy taxes on his people. Dragon-related expenditures, already accounting for one-seventh of the economy, we're growing even faster than the dragon itself.

Humanity is a curious species. Every once in a while, somebody gets a good idea. Others copy the idea, adding to it their own improvements. Over time, many wondrous tools and systems are developed. Some of these devices – calculators, thermometers, microscopes, and the glass vials that the chemists use to boil and distill liquids – serve to make it easier to generate and try out new ideas, including ideas that expedite the process of idea-generation.