Supposing you wanted to live forever and found yourself in 2024, would you sign up for something like Alcor, a company that offers a cryogenic way to preserve your body until whatever ails it can be fixed, presumably in the far future? Something over 200 people have made this choice with Alcor, and another 200 at the Cryonics Institute, whose website says “life extension within reach.” A body frozen at −196 °C using ‘cryoprotectants’ can, so the thinking goes, survive lengthy periods without undergoing destructive ice damage, with life restored when science masters the revival process.

It’s not a choice I would make, although the idea of waking up refreshed and once again healthy in a few thousand years is a great plot device for science fiction. It has led to one farcical public event, in the form of Nederland, Colorado’s annual Frozen Dead Guys Days festival. The town found itself with a resident frozen man named Bredo Morstøl, brought there by his grandson Trygve Bauge in 1993 and kept in dry ice by Trygve’s mother when her son was deported for visa violations. Bredo Morstøl remains on ice in Nederland, where the festival includes “Frozen Dead Guy” lookalike contests, although Covid caused several recent cancellations. I am not making any of this up.

I have it on good authority that Robert Heinlein was once asked by a cryonics enthusiast why he shouldn’t sign up for cryopreservation, and Heinlein replied that he would not because he was too interested in what would happen to him after biological life ended. My source, a writer who knew Heinlein for decades, raised his eyebrows when telling me this. Does anything ‘happen’ after biological life ends? No one knows, of course, and even near-death experiences can’t tell us because we don’t know how to interpret them. Getting into a religious answer is something left to the preference of the reader.

Image: The Triumph of Death, Peter Bruegel the Elder, oil on panel, 1562, Prado, Madrid.

Given these musings, I was interested to see that science fiction author Ted Chiang has explored a related question: Should we even pursue the study of immortality as a desirable goal? The Chiang talk was titled “Do You Really Want to Live Forever?” held at Princeton as part of a lecture series that drew 200 attendees to Chiang’s talk. I want to look at what he said, but only after a few notes on my own preferences.

First, as to why I would never choose cryopreservation: If I wanted to live forever, I would balk at using what have to be considered rudimentary and questionable methods to do so. I’ve heard the argument that as time passes, techniques will improve, and any damage to the body can be mitigated along the way to reviving it, but even if this is so, I would fear some kind of weird consciousness emerging in my frozen brain, sort of akin to what Larry Niven’s astronauts on Pluto experienced in the story “Wait It Out.” Stuck on Pluto and with relief decades away, they expose themselves to the elements, only to find that their flash-frozen minds are still active through superconducting effects. Imagine that extended over centuries…

Well, it probably couldn’t happen, but it’s a grim thought, and it alone would keep me from dialing the Alcor number. But would I accept if given a credible way to stay alive forever, perhaps a new discovery in the form of a simple injection guaranteed to do the job? I’d like to hear from readers on the pros and cons of that choice. Because of course ‘forever’ only means as long as something doesn’t happen to take you out. ‘Eternity’ gets snuffed through simple accident somewhere along the line, and it’s inevitable that after a few tens of thousands of years, something is going to get me.

So it’s a bedeviling personal choice and we should be thinking about it. After all, research into life extension in forms other than cryopreservation continues. Advanced AI may even tell us how to do it within a decade or two. Chiang, whose fiction is monumentally good (I consider “Story of Your Life” one of the finest pieces of writing ever to appear in science fiction), notes the concerns society faces over such decisions. Writers Sena Chang and Christopher Bao, covering the Chiang lecture event for The Daily Princetonian, say that Chiang waived away any moral judgments on eternal life (what would these be?) but noted: “The universe, as we understand it, does not enforce justice in any way. If it turns out that medical immortality is impossible, that, by itself, will not mean that immortality is a bad thing to want.”

But as we follow this path, we have to ask what the individual would experience with a ticket to immortality. Chiang isn’t sure it would be a desirable life. For one thing, a person sated with life expectancy and no fear of death would probably not be motivated to accomplish anything interesting. Life might get, shall we say, dreary. Moreover, if immortality becomes a viable option, we face issues of overpopulation that are obvious, and the likelihood of seriously exacerbated wealth inequalities. Here Chiang settles on something I want to quote, as drawn from the article:

“…the relationship between what is sustainable and what is ethical is not simple. The desire to live forever is fundamentally in conflict with the desire to have children. Allowing people to pursue one of these goals will inevitably entail restrictions on people to pursue the other.”

To take this further, immortality disrupts the process that leads to the very advances in medicine and technology that make it possible in the first place. Chiang sees this process as a ‘social instinct’ and identifies this need for ‘collective scholarship’ through the social impulse as underlying our science. Immortality breaks the bond. Thus the billionaires who try to extend their lifetimes who seem to follow a cultural muse based on individuality and egotism as opposed to what benefits society at large.

What an intriguing thought. Yet it’s probable that if a key to immortality is achieved by science, it will start out by being fantastically expensive and in the hands of a tiny coterie of people whose wealth is beyond the imagination of almost all of us. As I see it, they would then have a choice. Do I share this information? Would they factor into the question the welfare of society at large, or make a personal choice based on their own fear of death? Would fantastically wealthy immortals become a cadre of rulers over a society that otherwise continues to face the everyday dilemma of the end of life?

Chiang pokes around in questions like this in much of his fiction. Remember, this is a guy for whom awards are routine, including four Nebulas, four Hugos and six Locus awards. Stories of Your Life and Others is the best way to get into his work, especially in times when the AI question is becoming acute and the very meaning of advanced intelligence is under scrutiny. Structures of language, Chiang understands, undergird all our perception, and they play against the philosophies by which we describe ourselves. It can be said that Chiang has few answers – who does? – but no one asks the questions and draws out the ineffability of human experience with more eloquence.