I can hear the ticking of a time bomb, but I can't see it. I don't know when it will go off. It could be seconds, minutes, years, but I won't know until the explosion. Until then, I have to sit here, anxiously waiting for the end to come. Everybody else acts oblivious; either not hearing the annoying click of the countdown, or simply choosing to accept their untimely end.
I hate waiting. I hate not knowing. I hate that my time is limited. I hate that the bomb is in charge of my end.
Which is why I find myself sitting in a cold, metal chair facing a table with a syringe, a packet of information, and a decision. For I am here to destroy the time bomb before it destroys me. I am here to conquer the undefeatable enemy: age.
As the seconds waste away, I am aging and there is nothing that I could do to stop it. Now, there is a chance to prevent what was previously inevitable, death. I refuse to just sit here knowing that I am destined to die at some point. I know that as every minute passes by, my body is deteriorating, becoming weaker and weaker until I will amount to nothing at all. Gradually, I lose potential and greatness along with everyone else.
All the achievements from the beginning of time have put us humans at the top of the ladder. We consider ourselves the most superior of all species, yet we are still weak. We age; we die. Could I make us become stronger?
I am human. I am the apex predator. Nothing can destroy me. I will conquer time. I refuse to let time conquer me.
But for some reason, I can't pick up the syringe and inject myself with it. The syringe and the option of living forever young, is everything I had ever hoped for.
Even back in Peter Pan days, I wished that he would whisk me away to Neverland to save me from the bother of ever growing up. I still wish that he would come and save me from the clutches of adulthood before it was too late. Sooner or later I will be too old to enter Neverland and have my own adventure. The syringe in front of me seems to hold Pan's very essence, and with one, simple injection, I could reach Neverland.
Yet my fingers can't seem to curl around the syringe. I can't seem to move any part of my body in the direction of it. I am locked in a staring contest, willing myself to pick up the syringe, but I don't.
My hesitance is caused by the fact that I am the first person to ever use the formula. I am simply a test subject. I don't know the outcome. Nobody knows the outcome. Somewhere a group of scientists are observing my every move because I am their guinea pig. Perhaps they were also too scared to use it on themselves. Despite all their research and energy used to create such a potion, they do not trust it. Why should I? All of us know I have a fifty percent chance of dying should I inject myself with the syringe.
My hand twitches and inches forward, but it doesn't grab the syringe. Instead, the file of notes and studies winds up in my hand. I flip through it and skim briefly, hoping that it will convince me into possibly giving up my life for science:
Theory 1- Superoxide: Superoxide is an incredibly strong toxin that is produced within the cells of the human body as a by-product only to be broken down and detoxified by the enzyme superoxide dismutase. Overtime, the enzymes may be mutated by the strong chemical and do not function properly, slowing down the rate of detoxification, causing the process of aging.
Theory 2- Age programming: A person's DNA determines when the person will die. As if it is a clock that will eventually stop running. The DNA may be susceptible to outside factors such as climate, disease, and radiation which can speed up the aging process.
Theory 3- Wear and Tear: As time passes, the cells and tissues break or wear down. Eventually the bodily functions will not work correctly, and aging and death occurs. Similar to superoxide theory.
Conclusion: All theories suggest a weakness in the human body. Using a formula, it is possible to enhance all aspects of the human gene and DNA, eventually preventing aging. Upon creating a remedy for aging, human testing should begin immediately to prove that the chemicals in the mixture prevent aging. Calculations thus far show a fifty percent survival rate. Success rate is undetermined. Side effects unknown.
The scientists' uncertainty is clear. There is a fifty-fifty chance: immortality or a painful death. A glorious new beginning or a terrible end. A fulfillment of dreams or the inescapable realms of blackness. Dying is the opposite of the desired result. The options are on completely different ends of the totem pole; I have difficulty comprehending just how drastically different my choices are.
Is it really worth the risk? Why should I trust the formula when even the creators do not? Even if I don't die, will the serum even work? Is there even a point to offer myself as a test subject when my chances of survival and happiness are quickly dwindling?
I hate not knowing. I hate being afraid. I hate the indecision. I hate that this choice could be my end.
But it's also my last shot of reaching Neverland. The experiment is my last hope for eternal adventure and bliss. No longer is it a choice between life and death but living and dying. I don't really fear death, but the idea of time slipping by, aging, without my control terrifies me. I refuse to let something so simple, as the concept of time be the end of me. Should I live, I do not want to simply survive. I am tantalized by adventure, danger, and mischief. I want to venture into the unknown and make the most of every moment. I do not want to be confined by fear.
I am human. I am the apex predator. Nothing can destroy me. I will conquer fear. I refuse to let fear conquer me.
To die would be an awfully big adventure. I take a deep breath and pick up the syringe.
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I would like to thank my Bio teacher for occasionally telling my class aging theories :P Also, my dad helped with the theories, so yeah. Thank you "geniuses" of the world.
