* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.

Cold Comfort

7 October 2002
James is content and seeks a change of scene

Today was the last time I did something.

No when I say that, it sounds a bit like I performed some particular act for the last time today, but no, there is some change that today will be the last time I do anything. At least for a very, very long time.

The basic idea of cryogenics has been around for a little while now. The super rich afraid of the prospect of death having themselves preserved "to be revived when technology allows". The idea is they have their run of luck in this life, and they buy themselves the right to be brought back to life as soon as someone works out how to do it, and could be bothered.

The key with traditional cryogenics is that they freeze you *after* you're dead. I don't want to do that - I'm quite happy to be frozen right now. I'd much rather be de-frosted in a hundred years time a reasonably virile man in his twenties, rather than a decrepit octogenarian who had already died once.

My friends say I'm mad, but I counter them with the fact that I am perfectly content with my life. I have been so extremely successful that I am able to fund this seemingly ridiculous scheme, and I don't really look forward to the gradual decline is physical and mental capacities coupled with the boredom of a life of luxury that faces me in this life. And, I am extremely curious to see how we'll manage - how mankind will get on in the next hundred or so years.

The plan is thus: I made contacts in existing cryo companies, and worked out what equipment et cetera I need to technically achieve this. The end was an underground chamber situated in a place in the earth's crust where geo-thermal energy will generate sufficient energy to keep me super-cooled. Coupled with the technical requirements of my "voyage", I put a great deal of time and energy into ironing out the legal and financial arrangements. A large fund was set up with a set of strict guarantees and fail-safes to provide the stream of income required for the maintenance of my crypt. A team of lawyers made sure that everything was watertight, and perfected in their lawyer-tongue all the guarantees to ensure my repose was not disturbed until such time that the technology was available to revive me with a very high chance of minimal damage etc. Finally, I had medical experts go through the entire process to make sure that my tissue was not destroyed by the freezing process. I've been on a drip for a month, infusing my body all manner of manna to ensure that my cells hold up to the pressure. In these men and women I trust.

They wanted to take some DNA as well, so that even if I don't survive the unfreezing process, they can make a copy of me if they want to. But that won't actually be me, so I said no.

Obviously, it's taken quite a long time to put all the pieces in place for my preservation, and I've enjoyed every minute. My life has been defined by having clear aims: get good grades, go to x university, make a million, make a billion. And this task has been a complex project to manage. If anything, this has reinforced my reasons for being frozen - without this aim, my life would be boring and worthless. Another rather pleasing side-effect has been that I've been getting on with my girlfriend better than ever. It's like putting an end date on our relationship has meant that there's no point in not having a really good time. The sex has been superb too. Marriage Counsellors listen up!

But most of all I think about what it will be like when I awake. Will mankind have eaten itself? Will our greed end up destroying ourselves and everything around us? I wouldn't want to wake up in a situation like that, and probably if society collapses, the last thing people will want to waste their time doing is trying to defrost me. So in a way, I will be guaranteed to awake in a world where spare resources are around to satisfy long-dead rich people from a previous era.

My guess, although I may be being optimistic, is that humankind will survive. Most likely the sustainability and the environment will have become more central to the way people live, and the population will have hopefully tailed off, and the technology may be inconceivable to me today, but people will still be people.

And with a bit of luck, I will be guaranteed some sort of celebrity status. Who would be better placed to become a respected social commentator but me who will have emerged out of history to comment on what would be then the present day? This is what excites me the most. It's like when you're a kid and having to wait in a really long queue for the really big roller coaster. I can't wait.

I haven't much time now before they come to put me away for eternity. I've had my last piss, and wait for the doctors to trolley me away. She didn't want to come to see me off, and I don't' really blame her. I'm not looking forward to the actual freezing bit, although they tell me that I won't feel anything. I wonder for a second if I'll dream, but I probably won't.

I lie back in the chamber, and think the thoughts that I've rehearsed now for months. I think for a second about the wonders that I will see when I awake. I think for a second about the great times I've had in this life. And I think finally that even if I get forgotten or they never work out a way to bring me back, I'm perfectly content, and that's the best way to go.


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
16 October 2003. James writes: Jakesy's School of Urban Driving
24 September 2003. James writes: Chapter One
4 September 2003. James writes: The Silicon Soul
14 August 2003. James writes: A Room With 100 Seats
24 July 2003. James writes: English For Beginners
3 July 2003. James writes: Coldplay are crap. Discuss.
9 June 2003. James writes: It Takes All Sorts
22 May 2003. James writes: Lesson 2: Buying his Gran for a tenner
1 May 2003. James writes: Rosencrantz and Leytonstone
10 April 2003. James writes: Character Building
20 March 2003. James writes: So This Is It. What Are We Going To Do About It?
27 February 2003. James writes: Street Level Zero
6 February 2003. James writes: Reference: James Noteworthy
16 January 2003. James writes: Kissing George Clooney for just £99!
26 December 2002. James writes: Hongkong In Four Tableaux
5 December 2002. James writes: We Are Your Idea
14 November 2002. James writes: The Knight Of Spring Fervent
24 October 2002. James writes: Go On, Be Honest
7 October 2002. James writes: Cold Comfort
12 September 2002. James writes: Peas In A Pod
22 August 2002. James writes: Seed Investment
1 August 2002. James writes: We Are QPR
11 July 2002. James writes: The Road to Ossuna
20 June 2002. James writes: Pret A Teleporter
27 May 2002. James writes: A Play On Words
2 May 2002. James writes: Labour Saving Device
8 April 2002. James writes: Beggaring Belief
14 March 2002. James writes: Small Things
18 February 2002. James writes: Drop Dead Letters
24 January 2002. James writes: High-Rise Rhapsody
27 December 2001. James writes: My drift's too hip to resist.
6 December 2001. James writes: My Lord Has No Nose
12 November 2001. James writes: A Job For Life
18 October 2001. James writes: Which is the cleverest animal?
24 September 2001. James writes: Interview With An Automatum
30 August 2001. James writes: Each To Their Own
6 August 2001. James writes: An Escape, In Sonata Form
12 July 2001. James writes: Truckloads Of Goodies
18 June 2001. James writes: There's No Such Thing As A Coincidence
24 May 2001. James writes: It's All True - The Paper Says So
30 April 2001. James writes: A Letter From Prisyn
16 April 2001. James writes: I Quit
15 March 2001. James writes: An Essay In Procrastination
15 February 2001. James writes: Confessions Of An English Sand-Eater
22 January 2001. James writes: The Future And The Pasta
28 December 2000. James writes: Never drink with men in red
4 December 2000. James writes: The Underground
9 November 2000. James writes: Right answer. Wrong answer
16 October 2000. James writes: The March of Proudfoot: Part I
21 September 2000. James writes: You haven't got a chance
28 August 2000. James writes: Bad, man. Wicked
24 July 2000. James writes: I play games with street lamps

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