Part VI
Daydreams

“That’s the direction we’re headed in.” Stephen said from across the table, “If the human race survives the next couple hundred years, I truly believe we will have conquered our own mortality.”

“You think we’ll be able to stop the aging process?” I asked, working intently on a tiny pyramid I was stacking out of coffee creamers.

“Well, sort of,” He said as the waitress sat two cups of coffee in front of us, “It won’t be much different than the point we’re at now in medical science, just more extreme. Poor vision? An afternoon of lasik surgery will fix you right up. Bad teeth? Get implants. Liver disease? Grow a new one to replace it. Hell, we may be able to clone an entire body and somehow transfer the information from our old brain into the new one.”

“Are you two ready to order or should I come back?”

“We’re ready now.” Stephen said. “I’ll have four scrambled eggs with cheese, and hash browns.” She turned and looked at me but Stephen continued, “She’ll have chocolate chip pancakes, a piece of hot apple pie with butter, a blueberry Danish, and a large chocolate milk.

I looked up at her and smiled. She looked at Stephen as though he had lost his mind.

“Can I have cream and sugar in my coffee?” I asked Stephen.

“No,” he said, “drink it black.”

Our waitress shook her head and mumbled to herself while scribbling in her pad, then turned and walked off.

“I don’t think I want to live forever.” I said.

“Well, you and I won’t have that option. Sit up straight. The real question is whether or not we’re psychologically prepared for living hundreds or even thousand of years or more. We’re already fuck-up enough. Technology has advanced much faster than the human body. We really aren’t much different, biologically, than we were ten thousand years ago. We still have the same basic needs as our ancestors. But the human animal in all its wisdom has built this massive, artificial world, where everyone is more lonely, isolated, and emotionally fucked-up than we were when living in small tribes.”

“Basic needs huh?” I asked, cutting my eyes up at him and tapping a creamer on the table.

“Alright,” He said, “don’t start.” And smiled.

I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I wanted to tell him about my fantasies of running away, maybe to Vegas. Above all, I wanted him to take me into the bathroom, lock the door, bend me over, hike up my skirt, and fuck the shit out of me. But it wasn’t my place to ask, only to obey. I went back to fooling with the creamer, looked out the window, and daydreamed.

~