Cecilia Lynn-Jacobs

They never understood him.

The work and toil it took to become rich.

The old man, on his deathbed, agrees to the procedure.

It's painful.

The electric shock as his brain is copied.

But the old man dies because, remember, he's just copying himself, not truly extending his life.

The old man dies knowing that his consciousness will live forever.

And then...

The copy of the old man wakes up.

Not in the body of a young man, but in the computer.

He's fully aware, knows what's happening, but it's all a white void of his own thoughts.

He is unable to communicate, unable to reach the outside world, unable to do anything except think properly.

He waits to be copied into his new body, but nothing happens.

He waits for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months.

Time is impossible to measure with only your thoughts.

And then the old man, or the copy of the old man, realizes that his family didn't want him to live forever.

That they wouldn't receive their inheritance if he lived forever.

That the scientist could easily have been bribed.

Or perhaps he should have paid more attention to the longing glances between the scientist and his granddaughter.

No matter, he knows that this is how he will spend the rest of his existence.