Generation Infinity

11-18-2119

Happy Birthday myself! (That exclamation point is a liar. Believe me, I say this sentence with as much grudging, sarcastic, un-excitedness with which a human being could ever say anything. Perhaps even with a hint of longing and loathing.)

So, Yaaay! Happy Birthday!

How does it feel to be a hundred?

I dunno. Fake.

Today is not only my hundredth birthday, but also the hundredth birthday of a little product called Necata, derived from the latin “nec aetas” meaning “no age.” The scientists behind it had been doing underground research on it for years before the product started to surface in 2019. The official release date just happened to be the date I was also released into the world.

An anti-aging medication. But this time it wasn’t a cream that softened skin and smoothed out wrinkles. It wasn’t some cringy homemade herbal remedy. No. It was the real deal. Necata, “The nectar of life.” Certified, Approved, Authorized, Endorsed, Guaranteed, by anyone and everyone whose medical opinions were of value to the public. Necata was ready to be bought, and used by everyone right away. Starting with babies.

If you were pregnant, and your due date was November 18th, you had better start saving your money to buy your newborn baby’s immortality. Necata’s advertising campaign was geared mostly towards parents who could provide this for their kids. I mean, come on. What mom and dad don’t want to give their baby the gift of eternal life? And my parents were no different. . .

You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I was a preemie. Or a few days late.

So the nurses roll in, with a shiny shot needle, inject Necata into the infant, and boom! Just like that! The kid’s immortal.

Not quite.

Turns out Necata’s “top scientists” who had been developing the product for years, still hadn’t worked out all the kinks. They were just so in debt from their research, that they desperately needed profits. And so, decided to launch the unfinished medication hoping for the best.

Instead of staying a perfectly preserved bundle of newborn joy, complete with sunshine and rainbows, the Necata babies aged. We aged fast. By the time most kids were learning how to crawl around, I had the body of a tween. I also had mental disorders, speech disorders, learning disorders, and growth pains like you wouldn’t believe!

Yeah. I remember it. I was conscious, just didn’t know quite what to do with my brain yet.

Our growth started to slow just before we hit age two. By then, we looked like 20-year-olds.

And then we stopped.

Necata was banned from being sold or administered, and thank heaven above, no one else suffered the same fate. But the world was left with a few hundred thousand two-year-olds who looked like 20-year-olds, who had been injected in the first few days of the product’s launch. Programs were instituted. Special schools and therapy facilities. Weird enough, after we got past the disorders, we learned really well. And extremely fast. Like genius-level fast. I finished kindergarten through 12th grade in four years.

But it became pretty obvious, pretty quickly that we weren’t going to age after that. We’d hit our prime, and that was it.

So here I am. I’ve outlived my parents, my older sibling, and my younger one. The product worked. I haven’t aged. I haven’t died. Which is partially Necata’s fault, and partly my own. I haven’t killed myself yet. I don’t know why. Almost every day, I wish I would hurry up and die, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Quite a few members of “Generation Infinity”, as the government nicknamed us, discovered that they couldn’t die from old age, but they could be killed. Suicide rates went through the roof right after that.

Maybe that’s why I choose to stick around. To make sure no one else makes the same mistakes. To ensure that as long as I live (which I am betting will be quite long) that no one in the universe will have to suffer like I have. Like we have. Mortality is meant to be temporary. Living forever is almost worse than not living at all. It’s good to grow, to age, and yes, to die. Eventually. When you’ve lived a full life, and are ready to escape.

So I think I will save this blog entry/rant, and share and preserve it. Don’t play God. He’s much better at it than we are.