Tag Archives: longevity

Two climbers sit atop a mountain peak under a brilliant starry sky, gazing at the world below. A futuristic air car hovers nearby, symbolizing adventure, progress, and the evolving concept of longevity in a technologically advanced future.

Longevity, Chapter 3: 2050

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

“It’s interesting is all I can say,” I said as I wedged my fingers into the crack of the rock face in front of me. “Sarah’s getting married now, and it just doesn’t seem all that real. I always heard that life seemed to speed up as you got older, but it just seemed like yesterday to me.”

Henry dangled next to me and swung about, trying for a better hold. The cables that were holding us up weren’t going anywhere. You could hold up a suspension bridge with them. Thin as a pencil, but pound for pound, it was rated to hold up a Mack truck with a single strand in a hurricane. They were already replacing the supports on major bridges with the stuff, and it held more than one little kid’s tire swing up with no fear of breaking. If anything, the tire would split first, but since they were so strong these days, you had to practically shred them yourself just to get rid of them when they came off the cars by brute force. They were a nuisance, and it wasn’t long before most of the houses had been shingled with reprocessed tires.

I pulled at my rope, and it didn’t budge. Three hundred feet in the air, and I was comfortable enough to pull out my lunch.

Henry stopped bobbling about and turned to face me.

I held out a sandwich and a squeeze bottle of coffee, and Henry took them.

After scalding his upper lip with some poor aim, he took to the sandwich and munched at it.

“Do you love her, Henry?” I said. “Do you love Sarah?”

“Yes sir, I do,” said Henry through a mouth full of a tuna salad sandwich.

“That’s good.”

Henry gave me a wary look. I still wasn’t sure I liked him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to scare you, or anything as foolish as that.”

“I know.”

“I just had to be sure. Here’s the thing, son,” I said.

“I love her mother more than just about anything in the world. I worship the quicksand she walks on.”

I took a sip from my coffee and then said: “Would you die for her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s good to hear. Now I’m going to tell you something that you probably will not expect.”

“Sir?”

“I want you to make the rules together.”

“The rules.”

“Yes, the rules. I don’t want you to listen to me, or anyone else, in laying down the law in your household. Don’t let us tell you what to do. Don’t let your parents tell you what to do. Don’t fall into a rut and do what you think society wants to tell you to do, either.”

“What should I do then?”

“You should make your own decisions. Are you going to this church or to that one, you and she, you decide together? Are you going to have children or not?”

“We were…”

“I mean, just don’t let us pressure you. There’s no point, anyway. You need to make all those kinds of decisions together. Take your time and get to know each other as much as you can.”

Henry nodded.

“Of course, that’s something that you can ignore, too. If you both thought it was right, and you wanted to run away together rather than having this big wedding we’re planning, then that’s what you should do.”

Jacob reached out a finger that looked like the finger of a thirty-year-old to him and poked the twenty-something Henry in the chest with it. He thought it should look older than it did, that it should have some spots or something, that some of his hair should be gray, but none of it was. There might be the occasional stray gray, but they were so few that they barely counted.

“That’s what I mean though,” I said. “It’s all about you and her deciding. Sarah’s one of my favorite people in the world, and not just because she’s my daughter. She’s bright and intelligent, and one of the happiest people I’ve ever met. She’s got this way of making you smile just by winking at you.”

“I know. I love that about her.”

“Good. You keep that, and here is the hardest part, well two parts that I’m certain are hard for me to say because I’m still working through them all in my head. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”

Henry burned himself, missing the coffee again.

“Here, stick that thing in your mouth when you do that.”

Jacob reached over and handed Henry a handkerchief, which Henry immediately dropped, then sheepishly wiped at his face with his hands again.

“Sorry about that.”

“Okay, here it is. First, if you and she decided not to take the shot, then I will not get upset about that. We’ll keep it to ourselves, and we’ll never speak of it, and if you need to move and take my daughter far away from me, then that’s what you’ve got to do. I’ll always see her someday. It’s not like we don’t have constant video streaming all the time. Even on this mountain, we could probably call her if we wanted to.”

Henry thought about it for a moment.

“First, while we’re not planning to move soon, we’re staying in the city. I thank you for that freedom. You never know when you’ll need to make a move somewhere. As for the shot. We’ve already taken it.”

I nodded. It’s what I had expected, and it wasn’t a big surprise.

“Dutiful son,” I said. “Good. Now let’s get up this mountain.”

We put away our lunches and climbed, first using our cables to get back in line with the rock face, and then up it was, finger after finger, and step after step, and inch by inch we made our way to the top.

We pushed up, and stood on the peak, a small flat place, about large enough to spread out and sit, and checked the equipment the guide had left there the day before. There was a strong clamp, holding all the cables in place. They still did not release those, even now. It was too easy to step off and opened a pack that had been left for them in a sturdy box, also clamped to the rock’s surface.

The box contained a couple of sleeping bags and a cooler with bottles of water and enough food for another couple of meals in it.

We spread out the sleeping bags. On the bottom side of the bags, small clamps, about the size of bottle caps were lined around the edges, and once the sleeping bags were laid down, and a button was pressed there was a small hiss, and the small metallic clamps locked them into place.

We spread out on the peak, folded our hands behind our heads, and looked at the sky.

Clouds were passing overhead, but it didn’t look like much. There were deep swirls and dark areas that looked pregnant with rain, but they would drop it somewhere else. They let the wind blow over their bodies, and they kept their eyes glued to the sky.

The clouds soon gave way to an open blue sky with occasional wisps of clouds in the distance. They watched the hawks, and eagles circling high above them, and the ravens that were tormenting them, and distracting them from their search for prey, pecking at their backs, and swooping in and out between them.

The hawks would fight back and fend them off, sometimes swooping down to fly somewhere else, but the eagles would just rise higher, and leave the ravens behind where they couldn’t reach them anymore.

Twilight overtook us, and the stars came out. It was going to be a nearly moonless night, and the closest city was miles and miles away from them. We kept our flashlights off and let our eyes adjust to the almost total darkness. The heavens opened up, and they could see thousands and thousands of stars. The constellations were easy to pick out, and with very little in their field of vision around them they could relax their minds and observe them by the Earth’s turning, the stars seemed to slowly rotate around us like a massive dome that was being rolled over them. After a couple of hours, we could see the galactic disk, where the largest concentration of stars was, where the rest of the Milky Way spun on into the night.

We also counted the satellites. Most of them followed similar paths, but we thought they could also see the remains of Russia’s space station, and Europe’s new Low Earth Orbit station. The US had one as well, but it didn’t come into view this night. Orbit stations looked like small moons, but dull metal instead of bright like the real moon, and about five percent the size of the moon to our eyes. Out there, fifteen people lived full time, sometimes swapping with extra crew members sent up on one of sixteen shuttles that might be on missions at any one time.

Later we found the constellation Pegasus and counted the stars we could see inside the square. I could see three more than Henry could, but Henry didn’t know I was bluffing.

“Do you think there’s anyone out there?” said Henry. He almost whispered it.

“Gotta be, right?”

A v-formation of jets flew over us and banked toward the south. It shook the mountain we were on and rustled the nearby brush.

“Woo,” I said.

We pushed up on our elbows and kept our eyes on the skies.

“A friend of mine once said that if there was life found elsewhere in the universe, it would be something boring like polar bears or something.”

We watched as the stars turned and turned above us.

We counted the satellites in silence for a while.

About an hour later, Henry’s arm popped into the sky as a shooting star went by. It streaked across in a long line and burned out.

“I’ve never seen one of those!” said Henry.

“What, the shooting star?”

“Yeah.”

“It won’t be the last. We’ll probably see a couple more of them tonight.”

Another one flashed by, and Jacob pushed up on one of his elbows. “Interesting,” he said.

Three more flashed across the sky, all in the same direction.

Zing! Zing! Zing!

We could almost hear them.

“That’s just amazing.”

“Look, another one.”

Henry smiled, and I was thinking about it a little.

“Now that I think of it, I think we might be in for a pretty magnificent show tonight. What a night to do this.”

“Why?”

“Looks like it’s a full meteor shower.”

Another one zipped by.

“How many might we see?”

“Could be a couple hundred.”

We sat back and thought about it, and watched the sky as one after another lit the night up, and the spark of life surrounded them. We saw hundreds and hundreds of them before the morning came.

In the early hours of the morning, before Henry rose for the day, I sat on the edge and drank an instant cup of coffee. All I had to do was pull on a tab near the edge of the cup, and it heated. I drank at it and checked my mobile.

I tapped a code into it and smiled. In the distance, I could hear the engine of my air car heating. Way down below, its headlights came on and slowly rose to us. I stored away my sleeping bag and camping gear. I stuffed them into my backpack and got dressed. Shoes on, I was ready.

Henry pushed and sat up. “What’s going on?”

I smiled at him.

“Hate to do this to you, Henry. We’ve had a good night. If you love my daughter, you’ll forgive me for this, but I want to test you just a little.”

The car rose, and the door opened.

“Are you going to leave me up here?”

“Yes, I am.”

I stepped into the car, where another pack was.

“But I will not leave you like this.”

I tossed the extra pack onto the mountain with Henry.

“Extra supplies.”

I smiled and waved as I drove off.

Henry never said another word.

I pulled away and lit up a display to my left.

“Let’s turn on that tracker, yeah?”

I hit a button, and a small blip appeared on the monitor.

“There he is. That’s good. He’s kept the pack I gave him. That’ll make him easier to track.”

The blip was moving fast.

“Oh, he’s good. Look at that. He’s already on the way down.”

The blip was plummeting to the ground, and fast.

“Very interesting.”

I banked to the left and circled the mountain. On the side of the mountain, he could see Henry repelling down, and not taking his time. Henry deftly hit all the right spots and made all the right jumps. He was heading down quickly.

I pulled the car around and touched down next to a small restaurant at the mountain’s base. I pulled in and parked in an open spot, and got out of the car. As I shut the door and looked up, I saw Henry there, sitting in a rocking chair I swore was empty as I landed.

Henry was out of breath. His face and arms and legs were covered in scratches. There was a branch sticking out of one of his jacket pockets, and there was a cut across his forehead that was bleeding, but not dangerously.

“Hello there Henry,” I said, how’s my son-in-law?”

“Good thanks, Never better.”

He shook off the last strap from the parachute, then got up, and we went into the restaurant together.

“How old do I look?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Henry. “You look grown.”

“Interesting. I suppose that’s true. I’m fifty. Fifty today.”

“Are you? You look like you might be one of my friends.”

We placed orders, picking from a video menu built into the table. The table showed them their food being prepped in the back, and a small progress bar filled up from left to right.

We could see the meal being called to the cooks. 10%.

Then we watched as the cooks put their meals on. 20%.

Our steaks and eggs cooked and were flipped as the waffles went onto the iron. 30%.

Someone set up our plates on a tray. 40%.

One plate went down. 50%.

Another plate went down. 60%.

Waffles came off the iron and were plated. 70% and 80%.

The coffee finished brewing. 90%.

Coffee was poured up. 100%.

Then someone picked up the tray and headed out to meet us. Before the food hit the table, I watched as my bank account was hit for the total.

We dug in.

Henry allowed the cut on his head to continue to bleed.

We bit into our perfect steaks and ate our waffles.

A small trickle landed on Henry’s shirt.

I reached out and wiped Henry’s forehead. Henry applied a small stick to the cut. It looked like a small chapstick, and the cut healed over.

Henry stood up, and we faced each other.

I cleaned him up, removed the sticks and brush from him, and tended his other wounds.

Then I grabbed Henry in a massive bear hug.

“My son.”

They left the restaurant, and on our way back out to the cars, I stopped.

“I wanted to give this to you.”

“What’s this?”

I handed him a small card.

Henry took it.

“It’s a cash card.”

“How much is on it?”

“Enough to get you going.”

“How much?”

“Check it out yourself.”

Henry turned to a kiosk by the door and scanned the card.

“Please activate this card,” said a voice.

Henry pressed the activate button.

“Choose a pin,” said the voice.

Henry punched one in.

“Thank you,” said the voice. “Processing.”

A moment later, there was a ding, and the process was over.

Henry checked the screen for the balance.

“Are you serious?”

I kept silent.

“Sir?”

Henry pocketed the card.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Take care of my daughter. Don’t cheat on her. Don’t be an ass. Makeup after fights. Enjoy your life. Make sure you do something interesting with your life.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“I think you’ll have enough opportunities too. If you live as long as I think I’m going to, then you will have plenty of chances. It won’t last forever. One drawback to living this long all the time is that you’ll have to work longer, and the most likely cause of death is that of a deadly accident… Take nothing for granted.”

Henry got into his air car and pulled up into the sky. He drifted over the trees, and headed out, on his way to see Sarah again. He did it with a wave and a smile, as beaten as he looked by the quick return to ground level.

I got back into my air car.

Sitting on the dash was a card from Henry.

I opened it. A small dog was salivating over a bone on the front. Inside was a handwritten note.

It read, “I’ve drained the fuel from your air car, and taken your reserve can from the back. I love you too. See you at the wedding.”

I had to laugh. A little at first, and then longer and louder.

I stepped out of the car, locked it, and started the lonely trek to the next fuel station.

A futuristic medical office with glowing health displays. A doctor hands a patient a small pill while a digital screen behind them displays an extended lifespan, symbolizing advancements in longevity.

Longevity, Chapter 2: 2025

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
Buy Yours Here:
Amazon - Books2Read

This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I’m getting married tomorrow. I know it’s hardly the time for a routine checkup, but It’s been on my radar for the last couple of months, and I wanted to get it over with before we went on our honeymoon. Marla and I are going to go on a tour of Mexico. We wanted to go on the rocket that shoots passengers on a five-day cruise around the moon and back, but we couldn’t swing it. We’ll have to try for that on an anniversary or something.

I’ve rarely been sick, but I don’t like the look in my doctor’s eyes. He’s got some kind of news to tell me, but I’m uncertain what it is. The truth is he’s breaking up with his wife, who runs a small bookstore in the mall next door to this office, but it’s still a lot of me me me, and I think that’s all it’s about. I don’t know his wife very well, but she seems nice enough. I hope they work it out and stay together.

My fiance and I are packed and ready to go. I’ve been living in our little one-bedroom apartment for the last three months, but she picked out all the furniture. I wanted to go, but couldn’t get out of the day job long enough. It’s hard enough putting in the regular sixty hours a week. I couldn’t imagine doing like some in the office are and being there seventy, eighty hours a week. I can’t figure out when those guys ever sleep.

He’s kept me waiting for a while now. At this office, they like to pull you back as early as they can, even if you come in without an appointment, but sometimes you can wait in the exam room for half an hour before they come and take your blood pressure. They’ve already done that, so all I’m waiting for is him. He’s not exactly a talker or anything, but I thought he’d have more to say.

There was a knock, and he entered the room.

“Jacob?”

He peeked in.

“Yes, hello,” I said.

“Getting married, are we?”

He came into the room and took his place. It was a short roving stool, and he liked to push around with it. He’d swing over to pick something up, and then swing back to drop it off again, and he always carried a cup of coffee in his hand. Since the day I first met him, he was carrying it.

“Yeah, well…” I said.

“Not to be taken lightly.” He pushed a pen around on a small clipboard.

“I know.”

He flipped through some papers. His office had gone digital about five years ago, but he never got the memo. He still made everyone keep everything on paper for him. He didn’t know it, all the information was on the Internet all the time now, but whenever he had an appointment, his staff would print up all the records for the day to hand to him.

There was a knock at the exam room door.

“Yes?” said the doc.

A short, round face popped in through the door after it cracked open. “Doctor, you have a visit from the drug rep. He’s got a…”

“Tell him I’m with a patient, please.”

“He’s on your desk phone now.”

“Then go wave at him and tell him he’ll have to wait his turn.” He waved my freshly printed file at her and she popped back out.

“I hate that guy, and I hate that video thing.”

“Don’t like them?”

“They’ve been around for years, but I just don’t like them. You have to be able to roll your eyes sometimes when you talk to idiots on the phone, and he counts as one. Call me up on the video… I can’t even get a regular cell phone anymore.”

“I know.”

“Damn thing is less a phone and more a computer with a program on it that answers the phone for you. Ah well. At least we don’t deal with the phone companies anymore.”

“True, they all became Internet service providers, didn’t they?”

He looks over my chart again and grumbles to himself.

“I don’t know why I became a doctor anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“What?”

“I know you wanted to hear something. I could tell you that your sugar was off, and we might want to think about pre-diabetes prevention, or you might have high blood pressure as your father did, but that’s just not the case.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve looked over your chart a hundred times, and what it boils down to is that you are perfectly fine.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not for you. For me, it’s a tragedy, because all my patients have been slowly getting healthier and healthier every year for a while now. I’ve had less and less to do. It’s been so long since any of my patients had an actual disease. I can’t even remember when I last saw one.”

“What about injuries, sprains, that kind of thing?”

“The remedies are too fast.”

I had to think about that one.

“Yeah, the remedies are too fast,” he said again. “Guy comes in with a sprained, hell, let’s say broken ankle, and I got this thing here.”

He opens a plain white drawer behind him, indistinguishable from all the others, and brings out a small black ring, with a pink logo on one side.

“What’s that?” I ask him.

“You put this thing on your ankle, and hit the button, and that’s all it takes. It shrinks to fit the person’s ankle, binds it, and starts injecting it with painkillers and bone enhancers. You wear it around for half an hour. I don’t even let the patient leave, just for my entertainment now really, and then we do an x-ray of it again, and the break is gone.”

“That’s amazing,” I said.

He handed it to me. I fooled around with it for a moment and gave it back to him.

“You can get one of these for about a hundred thousand dollars, minus insurance if you’ve got it. You just have to fill it up with drugs once in a while. If you’re fitting your bill for medical at home, you can buy one for twice that, with a larger supply of drugs to dispense.”

“That seems kind of high.”

“Not really, when you consider that it’ll heal any broken bone in your body in less than an hour, even the tiny bones in your ear. Don’t even ask me what we do for diabetes these days.”

“What?”

“A single pill.”

I couldn’t believe him.

“It’s sick, isn’t it? Pun intended. Here, look at this.”

He hands me a small metal device with a finger-shaped depression on one side.

“Tap your finger to it,” he says.

“What will it do?”

“Blood work. Nothing special.”

I tap my finger there, expecting some kind of a prick, or poke with a hidden needle, but there’s nothing. The surface is smooth, but after pressing the mark, the entire thing lights up. It buzzes and hums, and shows me a small circular logo, with an hourglass on it, slowly turning around, and a small silver progress indicator sliding from left to right. A moment later, it stops and buzzes again.

“It’s done, I think.”

I had the thing back to him.

He drops it on the surface of a small tablet computer, and the larger screen lights up.

“It’s transferring.”

“Transferring what?”

“What would have been about a thousand dollars worth of blood tests? Ah, look…”

He pointed at the tablet’s screen.

“You’re clear. Figures.”

“What figures?”

“Not much to do these days other than do some tests and run you through them, because we’ve caught up. At least, I think we have. Almost boring to be a physician these days, as I said. Unless you’ve severed your hand or been hit by a real truck or something, all we do these days is keep on top of your blood work, and give you the odd shot or pill, and even they are getting fewer and further between.”

He made a check on his tablet with a small stylus he had attached to his lapel on a string.

“Ah, good. I’ll get to give you a shot today, it seems.” He was almost about to say “Lucky me,” when his face dropped, and “Never mind, just a pill then.”

He reached around and opened another drawer and brought out a small yellow pill jar.

“I still keep one of these for old time’s sake.”

He pushed down on the white plastic lid and opened it up. In the bottom was a single, uncoated white pill, with a slash mark on it where you could apply pressure to break it in half. He brought it out, sliding it into the palm of his hand, and carefully broke the capsule in half.

“Here you go. You’ll need some water, I suppose.”

He handed me a glass of water, and I took the pill. I could feel the chalky texture sliding down my throat.

“Now you’ve just ingested the equivalent of all the vaccinations you’ll need for the next hundred years. If I’m lucky, or very unlucky, I might have the privilege of giving you the next one.”

“What do you mean, like a hundred years from now? I won’t be alive then.”

“Sure you will.”

I blinked at him.

“There’s no telling how old you’ll live,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ll do with yourself in all that time. Just don’t go jumping off the roof or something, and you could live indefinitely.”

“What, forever?”

“Yes. Science. It’s kind of a curse now, isn’t it? Enjoy your day.”

I got up and shook his hand.

“Now, I’ll want to see you in a little while. Probably not for twenty years. Set up an appointment at the desk on your way out.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He was off to see someone else, and I made my way out of the office.

I made the appointment, though I didn’t see the point for twenty years in the future. It made little sense.

“Mr. Andersen,” said the young lady at the desk. I didn’t know she was forty years older than she looked, but that seemed to be life these days.

“Yes?”

She made the appointment and then handed me a card with the date and time on it. I had no intention of keeping the card for twenty years, but I slipped it into my pocket and made my way out of the office, anyway. There were a couple of people in the waiting room that looked like they were in their twenties, like me. I wondered if they were going to get the same pill and be sent on their way. A lot can change in twenty years. I imagine the office will be different. Will it even be here?

I crossed the parking lot to my car and opened the door with the press of a button on my key ring, slipped into it. The dashboard lit up, and the engine cranked up with a thunderous roar.

“Hello Jacob,” said the car. “Where are we going today?”

“We need to go straight to the Tuxedo rental next. It’s the big day tomorrow, you know.”

“That’s right. Marla’s at the boutique picking up her dress this afternoon. I’ve got an email from your tailor. The Tuxedo is ready, they just want you to come in to try it on.”

“Sounds like a plan. Take us there.”

I sat back. There was a steering wheel, but I rarely used it anymore. In the center of the dash was a GPS and map software connected to the talking computer. It lit up with the destination, then the car backed itself out and started following the Internet-based instructions. After a moment for the car to get a full signal, I could see a minor blip of a dot on the screen, small and green for my car. A moment or two later, you could see all the other cars that were connected up on the screen as well in real-time. They were all purple, and the occasional red dot was someone piloting on a manual. The auto-controlled cars all knew to steer clear of them.

I sat back and read an online newspaper, complete with video clips and animated daily comic strips embedded, while the car made all the correct turns, got me onto the freeway, merged automatically with traffic, and then pulled me into the closest, safest parking space near the tailor’s shop.

I stepped out of the car, which said goodbye to me, before locking itself up.

I’d say it was a relief to walk into the tailor’s shop, a place pleasantly devoid of computers beyond a small calculator, but I was so used to it that I forgot to notice. If anything, I wondered what was wrong with the shop without really being able to put my finger on it.

“Jacob Andersen?” said the tailor.

“Yeah?”

“Come on back, I think I’ve got you all setup.”

The wall at the back of the shop was one big monitor, and on it was a picture of me next to a three-dimensional scan of my body. The screen was surrounded on both sides by bolts of cloth and finished suits and slacks. The tailor hung a yellow measuring tape around his neck, and there were loose sticks of chalk everywhere, but one of them looked like it had a little USB plug in the side of it.

He guided me to a small platform in the middle of the room and brought out my suit, which came with a printed packet that included all of my body measurements and a representation of my body.

The packet was three hundred pages long.

I tossed it aside where it landed on a nearby, and very dusty couch.

He brought out the suit, and I tried it on. They crafted it to perfection and it hugged every inch of my body. It felt like the most comfortable garment I’d ever worn. Tight in all the right places, and also loose in all of them as well. I almost relaxed into it rather than the traditional ‘trying it on.’ The slacks went on without a hitch, and the shirt, suspenders, and bow tie were all dashing yet comfortable. Everything was the correct length and exactly perfect for my body.

I wanted to hate it, but I couldn’t. It was just that nice.

I tried on the coat and swore that I’d wear nothing else until I wore it completely out.

“You’re getting married, right?” he said.

“Yes.”

“It’s nice, the suit?”

It was perfect.

He laughed. “That’s what they all say these days, but do you like it?”

“Yes, I do.” I pulled at the collar and shifted my shoulders. It felt wonderful.

“Good. That’s nice. Yes.”

He seemed distracted.

“You’re young, right?” he said.

“Yes. Twenty-five.”

“That’s nice.” He scratched his back. “It’s getting harder and harder to tell these days. How old anyone is, I mean? It’s like everybody is fifty-six, but they all look like they are between thirty-eight and forty-five. No one looks like they should anymore.”

“I know what you mean.”At least I thought I might.

“It’s sick, what they are doing, down at those hospitals, keeping everyone alive all the time.”

“It’s not natural, I say.”

The tailor coughed. I helped him to his dusty couch and stayed with him for a minute.

“Can I call anyone? Do you need any help?”

He waved me off like it was nothing.

“No. I need nothing. I’m happy.”

“Happy?”

“I’m old, and I’m broke, and I’m tired and sick, and I’m happy.” He coughed again, and this time, spit up a little something that he caught in a handkerchief and shoved in his pocket before I could get a good look at it.

“Seriously, can I…”

“No!”

He pushed himself off the couch and straightened his tie.

“Really,” he said. “I don’t need a thing. Now, get outta here and go have yourself a wedding!”

He smiled and showed me the door. I grabbed my packet on my way.

“Wait, I need to pay you.”

“It’s already done. There isn’t even any fun in getting money from someone anymore. Your bank paid me the minute you took possession of the suit. You should know that.”

“There has to be something I can do.”

“There is. Grow old. Don’t take their stuff. It may keep you alive, but you’ll rot from the inside out before it’s over. Don’t let your wife take any of it either. Be natural. Don’t live too long.”

He pushed me from his shop, with a little smile and a wave, and I was in my car. I did all the driving and headed back out to my apartment before I thought about it. I was already doing all that stuff. My doctor had just set me up. Everyone I knew was doing it. We were all about to live forever. At least, that’s what the brochures all said. It was just the way it was now.

I have always wondered how they ever tested it on anybody. How can they say it increases your life this long? It hasn’t even been out that long.

Marla was waiting for me. She looked younger than I was, but the truth was she was about five years my senior. Until now, it never really bothered me. I wanted to talk to her about it, to ask if we should keep on, but I already knew the answer. Besides, my next regular checkup wasn’t for another twenty years. No going back now. May as well make the most of it. By the next time I go, I imagine they’ll have something, a pill or whatever, that I won’t have to come back again for a thousand years. Who knows?

A futuristic digital notebook displays handwritten text on a glowing paper-like screen, with a fountain pen hovering above. In the background, a high-tech city skyline fades into the distance.

Longevity, Chapter 1: 2000

Longevity and Other Stories
A life without end,
stars call from the endless night,
time slips through our hands.
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This is a draft version of a chapter from John Saye’s book, Longevity and Other Stories. If you are daring, why not subscribe to my newsletter (they come few and far between), and I’ll send you a PDF copy of the book?

I’m being born right there, in that room. The surgeons are performing an emergency c-section on my mother, and it’s not going well. She survives, as do I, but there’s a lot of scarring, and she takes a long time to recover. My father is a nervous wreck, not because he’s worried about me. I’m the youngest of three boys, and he’s learned to handle babies just fine, but the idea of losing my mother is terrifying to him. My aunts and uncles are pacing in the waiting room, and we’ve been in the operating room for quite a while now. I’m told later that I can’t possibly remember it, but I’ve been told the story so many times that I feel like I do, although it’s been more than what I consider a lifetime ago, much longer really.

It’s January 1st, 2000, at 12:10 am. I’m not by any stretch to claim the title of the New Year’s baby, but I’m born so close to midnight that it doesn’t matter. The lucky thing though, or maybe not, I’m not sure anymore, is that as a result, I’ve never had a problem knowing exactly how old I am. I have friends who can remember the year but can’t remember how old they are without a calculator these days, but for me, well… if I can tell what year it is, I know exactly how old I am.

The family is overjoyed to see me when my father can finally take some visitors, but Mom’s in a little more trouble still, and the doctors are working on her. I had some trouble with extra fluid in my lungs and that didn’t make anyone happy, but it passed quickly enough, and I was a hefty ten pounds and eleven ounces after they weighed me for the first time.

Stamps were taken of my feet, and my official name was recorded. It’s Jacob Evan Andersen. I’ve had it long enough. They pass me around a lot. I end up in first one grandmother’s hands, and then another for a while as my father finishes doing all the paperwork the hospital requires. A few minutes later and my mother is brought out. She’s not allowed to stand up for a while. There are two IVs in her, one with blood and one dripping with saline. She’s lost a lot, more than anyone thought she would, but she’s in good spirits.

She recovers just fine, and we’re only a couple of days in the hospital, back when that’s how long you stayed in a hospital for the birth.

It’s an interesting time to be alive. Lots of good movies, and television. The ebook revolution is just taking hold. People are trading the soft and familiar feel of paper books for the convenience of being able to carry them all with you at the same time. Is that a curse or a blessing? I haven’t figured that out yet. It’s already possible to carry every record album you own with you if you have a device with enough space, but people aren’t yet carrying all their favorite television shows and movies around with them all the time. I figure that’s not too far off.

The space program isn’t much to speak of. There are a few more flights to the international space station, something I remember more as a collection of tin cans strung together with chewing gum and wire. As a toddler and teenager, I heard that we once landed men on the moon, but that we found little, and nobody thought it would be much use to go back after a while. There were only so many rocks you could bring back before everyone was bored with it. I suppose innovation is always faster when you have an enemy to compete with.

A flood of relatives visited us in the hospital, but not as many as I expected. It was quite the party, though. I don’t think I let my parents sleep for the first six months I was alive. I had help. With two older brothers, I think we all gave them a run for their money. I saw Dad really lose it twice, but mostly, they were both so cool as we grew up.

At the end of our hospital stay, they wheeled my mother to the car, an old minivan, and we all transitioned in. You’d think we were getting the car packed to go on a vacation. There had to be fifteen large bags Dad had to pile into the back, and after all the kids were packed in, and strapped into the various car and booster seats, we were off, our first trip together as a family. (At least with me along for the ride.)

We’d later take the big trip to Disney World, and another one out to the Grand Canyon before Mom died, but the big one was the trek up into Alaska in recreational vehicles. Camping every night, campfires, marshmallows, and anything else you could get on a stick. Those were the days.

I have been nowhere that I could build a campfire for a while. I’ve been keeping a notebook forever. It seems like little snippets of what happens to me. I used to keep it all online as a blog, but I was tired of upgrading it all the time, and since it was just for me anyway, I kept it in various notebooks, on paper. If you had any idea what I have to go through to get notebooks made of paper and pens with real ink in them these days, well. You’ll know eventually. If you live as long as I have, anyway. Hell, if you’re old enough to have found this manuscript, you probably are. I did cave in a couple of years ago and send the older stuff to a scanning store. They tore all the old notebooks up and scanned every page, so at least when you’re looking through them, they all still look like paper.

Opens up like a book though, and the facing pages light up and show you where I was writing… Of course, you probably can’t read my old handwriting, can you?