Ponce de Leon's revenge
by Jon Worley

Another one from the science desk: Last week, researchers announced that it is possible to keep human cells alive forever. What this means is that within a few years (the scientists thought it might be about 10) it could become possible for people to take treatments to slow or even stop the aging process. To a point. An analogy was made to an antique car. You may have to keep replacing various parts, but as long as the chassis holds together, well, there's a good shot the thing's gonna last for a long time.

The question, of course, is who wants to live forever?

Me!

I know, the wise answer has to do with a Byrds' song and a Bible verse, but if there's no need for me to be turn, turn, turning in my grave, then I don't wanna go there. Simple as that.

As a devoted sci fi buff, I've read dozens of books that ponder the living forever conumdrum. Most come down against, though some are at least ambivalent on the subject. Not me. Still, I've got a few conditions.

First, I want to live forever at the age of 35. That way, I've lived long enough to get a few character lines (and guys always look better with character lines), but I'm still young enough to stay fit without too much effort. My bones and joints will still be supple and smooth (though I may need to have a few spares cloned for me now and again; say, as long as we're talking cloned knees, I think I'd like a set of them Carl Lewis models). I'm not against getting old or anything, but if I've got the choice (and that's what this is all about, right?), I choose 35 as my ideal age.

Second, I want to make sure that my brain doesn't age. It's no good cloning a brain. I know that already. Culturing a new nest of neurons would wipe away all of my memories and I'd have to start over. What's the good of living forever if you can't remember George Brett's home run off Goose Gossage in the 1980 playoffs? Might as well believe in reincarnation or something like that.

And last, I don't want any special requirements put on the acceptance of this treatment. Like food restrictions (living forever without fine brew is unacceptable) and such. If there are weird strings attached other than "correctable errors" like excessive eyebrow hair and the like, I can handle that. But none of this skin that turns to concrete because it never dies and flakes off or stuff like that. Nope. I wanna live forever and be perfect.

It's kinda odd that I'm so vehemently pro-life on this issue. I mean, I have no intention of ever getting a nip and tuck at the surgeon's, I shan't take Rogaine for my eventual hair loss and I don't put out the big bucks to turn my teeth whiter than Jim Carrey on In Living Color. Nope. I like myself just the way I am. I simply want to live forever just the way I am.

I want to watch all the horrid debates as athletes extend their careers to fifty or even a hundred years at a stretch. What happens when Billy Szcimazcka cranks out his 5,000th home run? Is Jim Brown still the greatest even after Yancy Tersolphine goes over the 100,000 yard mark? And how can you not call Hillel Yerkelman the greatest center of all time after he clears the 250,000-point mark? Oh yes, we'll have lots ot talk about. Plenty of inane discussions to pass the time.

Indeed, this absence of aging means that I can run for president when I turn 250 or so (right in my prime, as ever) after having written 100 books and recorded more than 200 albums. I mean, talk about some serious resumes for our public servants. No need for term limits now. At some point, the folks will get bored with public office and go out to make real money. And they've got plenty of time to enjoy it, as well.

No such thing as retirement, either. We keep going until a bus runs us over or our plane crashes into Mt. Pinatubo. In fact, once these cloning and anti-aging treatments become commonplace, transportation mishaps will likely become the leading cause of death, surpassed only by suicide.

Oh, and what about the poor who won't be able to afford such luxuries as life without end? I dunno. I figure I've got a millenium or so to work all that out. Plenty of time. Maybe I'll even solve the existential crisis during my fifty-third career as a philosopher. It's now all within the realm of possibility.

One thing I know for sure: I just might now have time to quaff one of every beer in the world. That alone is reason to cheat death.

Jon Worley tries real hard not to take himself too seriously. Most of the time.

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