Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs

I'd promise to be good.

If I could find your notes?

Hmm.

Hmm.

And, like all rich men, he thinks that, perhaps, he can use his wealth to cheat death.

So he funds doctors, companies, medical researchers, drugs that are supposed to arrest aging, surgeries that will replace failing organs, yogic exercises to unlock the body's natural regenerative properties.

All he finds is failure.

The man is obsessed with this, spending all his time sifting through proposals, documents, neglecting his family.

Not that he was ever an especially doting father.

He is a rich man, after all.

Until someone, a computer scientist, proposes something completely different.

They will use the latest supercomputer to make a copy of his brain.

Every thought, every dream, his entire personality.

And then, using electrical discharge, they will rewrite the brain of a young man, someone in a coma, so that this young man will now be the old man.

It's not immortality exactly, but it's something very close to it.

The old man is getting older and older, so he agrees.

His family are aghast.

They thought that the quest for immortality was a harmless frivolity, one that would perhaps extend his life for a year or two, if that, but now they see he could actually achieve it?

They beg him to reconsider.

But the old man ignores his family.