1000 Years or Bust
By E. Dale Strauss
I present these words with earnest good intent.
Thus, I commence to speak directly with you, the "end user" in hopes of cutting through the conceits that, though purposeful only to the jaded late 20th century, seem to persist half way into this initial decade of the 21st.
How long can we live? That is the contest. I hope to set a new record and live for centuries, But I don't imagine that this will prove to be. I know this much though. I squeeze every minute out of every day. So do you, so do we all, I guess. I just find it so damn frustrating that I must die. There are those who say that death is a condition of existence. And ok. Maybe so. But how long have I left? 30 years? 50 years? 70 at best, barring dramatic innovation of some sort.
That's not near enough. Not by a long shot. Consciousness undeniably deserves better. You and I, boyle reader, we deserve a fair shake. A millenium, I'd say. That's fair. I could be ok with a millenium. Imagine. I'm thirty now. Just a baby. I've got 900 years, give or take, left. I can deal with that. That's a reasonable amount of time in which to accomplish a life's work, right? Think how smart I'd be by age 900! I'd be a super-mega-ultra-genius after just 5 or 6 centuries of accumlating wisdom and knowledge. So would you. And everyone else. (The stupid people would die at the regular age, not having any reason to continue further.) Then the last couple hundred years could be spent applying all that learning to some hardcore serious thought, eh?!
So I don't know how to accomplish this outcome. I really don't. But I do know this. It feels right. People ought to live a thousand years. It's what's supposed to be. Can't you just feel the inuitive truth of this fact? 1000 years or bust. If I was driving west in a cartoon, instead of just driving west in real life, that's what my sign would say. 1000 years or bust.