My mother died at the age of 82. When she was still in her 60s, I’d asked her if she wanted to live past a hundred. She’d answered, “No. I don’t want to be alive and ugly.”

That’s my mom. Vain to the end. And I must say, she was beautiful till her last breath–in the eyes of all those who loved her, at the very least.

The article “Just How Old Is ‘Old Age’ in The Future?” is an interesting read from columnist Michael Smith of The Pilot. It touches on how the Bible and some scientists agree on one thing: that the cap for the human lifespan is at about 120 years. On a more optimistic note, immortality, Smith goes on to say, is no longer stuck within the realm of science fiction and cites people within the scientific community who support this confident assertion. It’s also interesting how billionaires and mega-corporations are giving this quest serious financial backing and an ambitious technological boost.

It’s about time, I say, and am surprised at the number of nay-sayers out there who believe immortality isn’t something to be desired. It makes me wonder then, over the popularity of this undesirable eternal plane called “Heaven.”
The contradiction, perhaps, comes from the notion that Heaven is envisioned to be divinely designed perfection. Man-made immortality is presumed to come with its warts and wrinkles, frequent visits to the doctor—or perhaps the mechanic, if we end up immortal borgs.

But what if it didn’t? What if only the early “prototypes” of immortal humans had to endure the old-and-ugly phase? With the increase in number of immortal scientists, surely they’d be working non-stop (literally) towards eternal youth—not just eternal life.
The assumption is that, in God-given Heaven, people won’t grow fat, old, or senile. Given the burgeoning discoveries in genetics, is that impossible to achieve here on Earth? Give or take a few centuries, surely we’re bound to crack the code.

After typing that last paragraph, I instantly heard the distant rumblings of even more nay-sayers objecting. Because without the inevitability of death, and thus “judgment” as to what we deserve afterwards (if there truly was an afterwards), then what motivation have we humans got to become altruistic? Why think of thy neighbor if breaking all ten commandments wouldn’t render thee stuck in the eternal fires of hell?

That argument, to me, makes it sound like altruism is an exclusively human virtue. Which it isn’t. There are dolphins that save the whales. Vampire bats that donate blood. Deer that give out warning cries, risking their own dear life. Ask wildlife researchers and many will attest to other well-documented examples of animal altruism—animals whom I presume do not share the human notion of an eternal reward for doing good or damnation for not giving a damn.
Admittedly, man-made immortality is only desirable in a world where the good prevail. Where altruism runs rampant. And bleeding wounds, pain, and injuries only belong in sports arenas where athletes can win medals for enduring them.

I would so like to be immortal in such a world. Where goodness throbs in all our hearts. And where no one gets fat. Or old. Or senile. Or ugly.

How I wish my mother were still around to see that day.