We've got nothing else left to lose

“Happy birthday to you, dear Sarah, happy birthday to you!” Nearly a hundred people gathered at the park to sing to her. Sarah looked out over her many friends and several generations of family. Since 2051, cellular regenerative technology had improved the health of the human population as well as extend their lifespans. Studies were still ongoing, but she didn’t seem to age after her 70s; wrinkles stopped forming and the aches and pains of getting older were much delayed. Sarah could do just about everything she could always do like attend her own birthday party.

When the evasive cure for cancer had been discovered during this trial, people were spared of this painful and often lingering death. Once diagnosed with cervical cancer, Sarah underwent a series of five shots that targeted and eliminated the aggressive cancer cells. A modern miracle. She blew out the candles and made a wish. She wished for a daughter.

Sarah was 142 years old but still went through menopause at 50. She regretted not having children, but as she was advancing in the Luxon Corporation, she didn’t want to slow down. Putting in her hundred years of work, her pension was sufficient to cover all her typical retirement expenses and then some. Her taxes went up, but that was part of the price for longevity.

“Aunt Sarah, what cruise will you be taking next?” asked, Naomi, one of her many nieces. They loved hearing about her exciting excursions around the world.

“I’ve been everywhere. Some places twice!” Once longevity-induced lower birth rates kicked in, Calcutta wasn’t burdened by overcrowding. With a decreasing population, the earth started to regenerate. In 2048, there were nearly 9 billion people, and resources were limited. Campaign ads encouraged much smaller family units to balance the unintended consequences of longevity.

Sarah’s nephew, Joel, asked her, “How do you feel being the first group to be genetically modified?”

“I’m not corn,” Sarah laughed. “I’m a cellular regenerative, for lack of a better term. My life is still being monitored in a longitudinal study. Problem is the scientists in the study keep dying of old age.” She offered cake to anyone who wanted it. “I feel fine. I haven’t really aged in the seventy years or so, give or take.”

Joel thought about it for a second. “Did any of your friends join the study, too?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not all. I’ve attended the funerals of many friends and family over the years. That gets depressing. People and pieces of my life – just gone.” She paused. “A lot of buildings and physical structures have deteriorated over time, so the things I remembered as a child are no longer around.”

The organizer of the party, Ruth, called her friend over. “Sarah, we have a special present for you. We hope you like it.”

Sarah slowly unwrapped the large flat box to reveal a giant painting made of a collage of smaller photos. As she looked more closely, she found the collage was made up of the faces of all her friends and family. She squealed with joy.

“Oh, my goodness! That’s just…” As she moved the picture back, she saw the overall image of herself holding an iris. “…amazing. Oh, my gosh, I just noticed the bigger picture.” Everyone clapped at the unboxing, and Sarah felt so loved. “Thank you, Ruth, thank you all for such a wonderful gift. It’s extraordinary.”

She set the picture carefully to the side, leaning it against a chair so that everyone had a chance to see it. “I’m so glad all of you could make it today,” she announced. “Really. You are the best.” That subtle signal implied the festivities were coming to a close. At her age, Sarah needed rest throughout the day. That was another slight setback to the shots. Fatigue set in numerous times a day.

As the other women were cleaning up, Joel approached her again. “Aunt Sarah, why didn’t any of the scientists sign up for the study? What were they afraid of?”

This threw Sarah off track. She’d never stop to think about that. “I really don’t know, Joel. I hadn’t had children by 50, and the doctors thought I’d be a good candidate for the study.” But Sarah now had this question bouncing around in her head. “If I find out, you’ll be the first to know.” She smiled at her 35-year-old nephew. Because of her age, people stopped trying to figure out how many “greats” to put in their relationship status.

Sarah drove herself home, listening to music oldies on the only station that played songs from her days. She was humming along, and the day was still young. Once she got home, she was lugging her presents from her car and into her small apartment home. Her neighbor Hannah was just getting home as well.

“Hi, Sarah. Happy birthday. Let me help you with that.” Hannah took Sarah’s keys to open her door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it today. I had a doctor’s appointment today. Can I come over later with a bottle of wine? I’ve got something to tell you.” A smile seemed to fade from her face.

“Yes, I’d love that. I just have to take my nap first. Thank you for your help.” She closed the door, and her cat approached her, sniffing her feet. “Oh, Kitty, it’s just me.” Sarah placed the remained of her belongings down on the kitchen table and put her jacket over the back of the chair. “I need such a nap.”

Sarah fell asleep on the sofa, and vivid dreams filled her sleep. She dreamed of long-gone friends, her parents, and many others she’d lost and forgotten. They appeared in shapes and faded in and out like a slide show. There was no pattern, no rhyme, no reason to the order. Just a sea of faces without names.

One thing that the twice-weekly shots didn’t keep up with was her memory. The sections of her brain that contained memories evidently had an upper limit like computer memory. They had filled up around 110 years of age, and she found memories were slipping out of her as she aged. Her immediate memory was still intact, but memories from different time periods were missing.

Her dreams started to fade to gray, and Sarah woke up. She got up and made herself a cup of strong tea. She’d already forgotten her dreams, but she knew Hannah was coming over later. Looking around her home, she felt the need to tidy up a little bit. She rearranged pillows, swept the kitchen, and wiped the countertops. As a single woman with a cat, her apartment was nearly spotless.

She pulled up the computer and looked up the researchers who started this program. She was curious to know how many people in total were involved, and what other side effects were being discovered. As a test subject, she often didn’t get the information first-hand. She had to find out from others in the study, like Hannah.

A knock on the door, and Hannah came in. “Hey, sweetie, did you have a good nap?” She placed a bottle of wine on the counter.

“I did, but now I feel melancholy for some reason,” Sarah said, perplexed. “I don’t know why.”

“I can answer that. The shots.” She opened the bottle of wine while Sarah brought out the glasses. “The researchers are finding more side effects of injection-induced longevity outside of the obvious ones.” Glasses were filled, and they sat down on the sofa. “Besides the money issues, the poverty disparity, and the family disconnections, they’re finding our bodies just weren’t made to live this long.”

Sarah blinked in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

Hannah said, “I had my shot appointment today. Funding has run out for the study. The shots aren’t as strong as they used to be, and they’re going to be ending soon.” She took a sip of her wine. “All cellular regenerates will start to age soon after the shots end.” Stroking Kitty, Hannah said, “You and I are going to die soon.”

“Hannah, that’s got to be an exaggeration. How can they stop the program? Didn’t they find the cure for cancer during this study? And the scientists who are in the program are amassing so much data because they never stopped learning?” Sarah asked in exasperation.

“Yes, but this administration is similar to the one about seventy years ago – money is being diverted to other enterprises. They don’t care. I wouldn’t be surprised if the richest of the rich paid for batches of the shots to continue to be manufactured for themselves. They’ve got money to burn.”

“How can they not care about not aging? Wouldn’t they make more money the longer they lived?” Sarah added. “Besides, that’s not fair to us who’ve been in the study for this long.”

“Once you get to a trillion dollars, money no longer matters. People are finding that longevity has an upper limit with regards to family ties and business relationships. They’re getting bored being with the same spouse. And these trillionaires are starting to lose precious money.”

“I still don’t see how.” Sarah sipped her wine.

“Because the older people get, the less they work, the less they consume, the less they push the cogs of the commercial wheels. Younger generations can’t support us or the entire economy anymore. Unless everyone on the planet is taking the shots, the disparity is starting to cut profit margins. So they want to end the program to ‘get back to normal,’ they say.”

Sarah looked at her hands, slightly wrinkled, and pictured them desiccated. She took another sip of her wine. “And normal for us means dead. I wonder if my cancer will come back.” She finished her glass and poured another one. “When is this supposed to start?”

“Sarah, it started months ago without notice. The shots are being watered down so the process will end more slowly. I’m already noticing arthritis, and my angina has returned.”

“Hannah, what should we do? What can we do?” Sarah felt confused and betrayed. “We were going to change the world. The population is starting to edge downward, the planet is becoming productive again, people are far more educated, and we took ourselves off the danger-of-extinction list.”

“It’s not going to matter. And soon, no one will remember this. That’s another side effect they kept from us.”

“I’m already missing huge chunks of my memory. From age 50 to about 80 I don’t recall much.” Sarah replied. “And a couple of other decades. I don’t remember remembering it, if that makes sense.”

“I know,” Hannah said. “It’s going to get worse.” They finished the bottle of wine and sat back on the pillows. “Luxon Longevity is not as cracked up as it seems to be.”

Sarah sighed and glanced at the picture she propped up on the kitchen table. “I guess all blossoms have to wither and die sometime. Do you want me to open another bottle?” she said with a half smile. “We’ve got nothing else left to lose.”