The (Less Obvious) Downside of Living Forever

I’ve often found myself doing a quick Facebook check on people I used to know. Not (usually) in the I-hope-they’re-ugly-and-working-a-dead-end-job way, generally just to see where they’ve ended up and what they’re doing. Sure, I could friend them, but we’d never talk after our initial catch up and then it’s just kind of awkward.

But of course, to look someone up, you have to remember their names.

I found myself trying to look up a friend of the family, but blanking on their last name.

Ooh, it definitely had a sh sound!
Sh….aver? No, that’s a coworker’s name.
Sha…..damn it, now all I can think of is Shaver!

It came to me an hour later; Shafer!

Everyone else talks about how cool it would be to live forever, but I can’t even remember people from five years ago; I can just imagine myself at 200, struggling to remember my mom’s name. Reese? Ida? Olga? Bugger, I’ll just call her mom.

Unless uploading my mind to a robot comes with a serious memory upgrade, I think I’ll stick to a normal lifespan and only forget most of it, thanks.