The Price of Immortality

The Price of Immortality


“So, are you ready?” my sister asked me.

“Are you kidding, Jeanne?” I replied. “I’m probably more ready than anyone in this room.” We sat in the reception area, waiting to be called back for my procedure. “I mean, I’m so done with this thing…this cancer they say is incurable.”

The procedure was called Bridging and The Bridge was, for lack of a better description, a means by which we could obtain immortality. Hunger, disease, and even death were all about to become a footnote in history. Sure, it took scientists three centuries to finally crack every mystery of the human brain…to not only replicate the firing of neurons but decode our very essence. Then seemingly overnight, cyberneticists engineered a way to download, carry an entire consciousness, into a synthetic Exabyte Brain…The Bridge was born.

“It’s almost time,” Jeanne noted. “We should be next. Are you scared?”

“A little,” I admitted. “I’m just ready to be whole again.”

“And what about the price?” she asked.

I shrugged it off but knew she was right. The price was steep, though I really had nothing to lose. After all, the doctors told me six months at best. Most people could never afford the procedure on their own, the factory-new cybernetic body. I remember that anatomists pushed for years for a genetically grown option, but the results were, well, messy. Finally, defeated, they admitted we were still millennia from growing a functioning organism that could tolerate the Bridging process. Even then, organic tissue was still susceptible to disease, could still be too easily injured.

The Synths were the solution. With a titanium endoskeleton, silicon and polymer components resisted corrosion. Better, if a part was somehow damaged, it was easily replaced. Tactile sensors felt every touch and optics saw across multiple wavelengths. No lungs, no heart, no need for oxygen, a Synth could still appreciate the marvels of life, without the worries of aging. And the cold-fusion micro-reactor meant we could nearly live forever, even in the vacuum of space.

A ten year mining commitment with BlastCor in the asteroid belt was a small price to pay for immortality. Sure, I wouldn’t see any of my family or friends for a decade but with The Bridge gaining popularity and costs coming down, we’d probably all be Synths by the time I got back. Anyhow, I figured I’d make new friends.

“Martin Hathaway?” the Synth nurse, whose name was Mary, asked kindly on her approach. “Are you ready?” Her luminous blue eyes stared back at me and I was surprised at the trust they conveyed even though her translucent skin revealed hers was a budget Synth.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I struggled to my feet. All the treatments, the chemo, retrovirus therapy, even the nanorobotics, had really taken a toll on me. Still, the hardest part was leaving my sister. “Well, I guess this is it.”

She cried into my shoulder as we embraced. “I’m so happy for you,” Jeanne sobbed and tried to fake a smile.

“I love you Sis. I can never repay you for your time, or your support,” I admitted gratefully.

She rolled her eyes. “You know I’d do it all again.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” I joked as tears streamed down my face. Deep down, I knew how hard her taking care of me was. She’d been my biggest supporter for the last three years, through the diagnosis and side effects and sickness. As much as she was glad for me, I’m sure she was relieved to get a part of her life back that my illness had taken. Not that she loved me any less, but the burden was becoming too much for even her.

“Mr. Hathaway?” the nurse nudged. “It’s time.”

“Take care of the kids,” I said to Jeanne as my hand left hers. “I’ll see you in a decade or so.” That was the last time I saw her, nearly five years ago, and I miss her more than ever.

Now, I’m just a Hauler, an ore carrier, and I’m sure if I was going to be rescued, I’d already be back at the mine. There weren’t supposed to be any demolitions that month and the accidental explosion was enough force to overcome the low gravity and launch me into space. I used to think The Bridge was a miracle, every function replicated and enhanced with precision…true immortality. I’ll tell you though, drifting off into space alone, immortality isn’t a blessing. It’s a curse.