ILLUSTRATION: Khoren Matevosyan Comment Loader Save Story Save this story Comment Loader Save Story Save this story I am scheduled to die on August 10, 2060, at the age of 74
So says my iPhone screen, where Death Clock, an AI -powered longevity app that predicts life expectancy based on your medical habits and lifestyle, has produced an image of a smiling grim reaper to celebrate my expiration date. There he was one September morning, looking especially thrilled about the reveal, gesturing with a peace sign as he reclined in a doughnut-shaped pool inflatable under that giant number: 74
I have never resented getting older, but I suppose that's younger than I'd like to be when my time is up. In the last four years—years that brought the passing of my grandmother and aunt within 18 months—I've become hyperaware of how finite my days are. Since turning 40 in January, I've also experienced daily reminders of aging: inexplicable pains that rotate between my back, neck, and hips. Spiritually, I feel young; physically, my body screams otherwise. Aging is natural, but I had a creeping suspicion I could buy myself more time
