The Price of Forever
By Liz Ramsay
Is this the first generation that won’t die? According to retired tech CEO Bryan Johnson, it’s an unequivocal yes. The billionaire spends over two million dollars a year on an extreme anti-aging regimen, including light therapy, blood transfusions, and countless supplements. All for the sake of “humanity’s only objective.”
But as the dream of immortality inches closer to reality, its economic and ethical consequences are impossible to ignore. Extending life indefinitely could strain already overburdened systems like Social Security, deepen the divide between rich and poor, and usher in an era where retirement disappears, relationships erode, and meaning becomes harder to find.
Immortality, in this light, isn’t just a scientific breakthrough. It’s a socioeconomic and existential gamble.
On January 7th, The Free Press’ “Honestly With Bari Weiss” asked Bryan Johnson, the subject of the newly released Netflix documentary “Don’t Die,” a question that most people would find absurd:
“Do you think that you’re going to die?”
“No,” Johnson replied.
Both Johnson and Weiss seem to hold back smiles at his response. But then, Johnson grew serious.
“Really?” Weiss asked.
“Yeah.”
Johnson claims he does more than 100 different daily rituals to optimize his body’s “ideal state.”
It all kicks off at 4:30 am. The 47-year-old biohacker turns on a special lamp that mimics natural sunlight. The practice is to reduce inflammation and stimulate collagen production. Once he’s soaked up some sun, Johnson pops three pills that might be found in your medicine cabinet: Vitamin C, heme, and elemental iron. Next is a temperature check. In the doc, Johnson uses an inner-ear thermometer and registers a chilly 94.9°F—a mild hypothermic state that’s well below the average 98.6°F. Then, it’s time for heart rate variability therapy. Strapped to his Parasym device, targeted electrical impulses are sent through his ear to stimulate the vagus nerve, activating the parasympathetic nervous system to make his body “more chill.” Johnson swallows another 54 supplements, including cocoa flavanols (to boost brain and heart health), garlic (for cholesterol and immunity), and ashwagandha (for stress relief and lowering blood pressure).
Hours of exercise, an algae creatine smoothie, a few pounds of veggies, another 34 pills, and rounds of whole light body, audio, and red light therapy later, Johnson completes one day of his Blueprint.
Modern medicine has extended the average lifespan beyond anything that would have been anticipated a century ago. Naturally, the thought arises that it could offer each of us (or those who could afford it) a medical victory over death.
Johnson isn’t a one-off media phenom. Media such as Upload, Black Mirror, Severance, Ready Player One, and Avatar feature companies that commercialize consciousness, manipulate memory, and digitize the self. These fictional worlds reflect a growing cultural fascination and anxiety with the limits of scientific progress and the commodification of life itself.
Severance became the most-watched show on Apple TV+ upon its release, helping drive a 25% spike in Apple TV+ subscriptions in early 2022.
This view continues to grow, not just with the ethos promoted by Johnson, or the multitude of cosmetic procedures available to forestall or conceal evidence of aging, but also in the commoditization of cryonics, the deep-freezing of human remains with the hope of reanimation in the future.
Companies like Alcor and Nectome are pushing the boundaries of death and preservation. Their target customers are often affluent early adopters, transhumanist believers, and Silicon Valley visionaries seeking digital immortality. These ventures are largely funded through private capital, grants, and in some cases, crowdfunding.
Alcor, the world’s leading cryonics provider, freezes entire bodies after death using vitrification in hopes that future technology might enable revival. Established in 1972, their facility in Arizona stores dozens of cryopreserved patients awaiting that possibility.
Nectome, by contrast, targets the brain alone. The company aims to preserve the brain’s connectome, the complete map of neural connections, for eventual "mind uploading." Controversially, this must occur while the patient is still alive, rendering the method currently fatal. Despite ethical concerns, Nectome represents a bold step toward a digital form of immortality.
Immortality is seeping into other markets. Stem cell rejuvenation therapies, young blood transfusions, lab-grown organs, and even xenotransplantation (implanting animal organs into humans) are already receiving billions in research funding and private investment. Top-tier institutions like Harvard, Stanford, and MIT have entire research centers dedicated to longevity science and regenerative medicine. Harvard’s Sinclair Lab, led by David Sinclair, is one of the most prominent, studying cellular reprogramming to reverse aging, research that’s attracted investment from billionaires like Jeff Bezos and venture firms like Altos Labs, which launched in 2022 with $3 billion in funding.
The question is, will only the wealthy be able to afford "immortality insurance"? Who gets to live longer? If anti-aging technology remains accessible only to the ultra-rich, the divide between the haves and have-nots could grow into a chasm. Healthspan, not just lifespan, may become the ultimate form of privilege.
If some people can live for centuries while others still die in their 70s, do we risk creating a two-tiered society: the ageless elite and the rest? And if resources are finite, is extending one person's life always worth it, especially if it comes at the expense of someone else’s?
This growing longevity revolution raises pressing questions about how existing systems will adapt. Social security benefits are designed to last a lifetime, providing a stream of income as long as a person is alive. This means that even if someone were to live indefinitely, their Social Security benefits would continue to be paid out.
If the payout model remains unchanged, longer lifespans could bankrupt the system, straining public resources already under pressure. Will benefits be capped? Will the retirement age keep rising? What happens when systems built to support aging begin to collapse under the weight of endless life?
Some futurists argue that universal basic income (UBI) or a post-work society will be necessary, especially if AI and automation displace jobs faster than humans can retrain. But until then, countries will face growing inequality between those who can afford longevity treatments and those who can't.
As science stretches the boundaries of what it means to be alive, we’re also forced to reconsider what it means to die. Not just biologically, but spiritually, symbolically, and existentially.
Bryan Johnson says he has never been more “fulfilled, alive or purpose driven in life” and that his quest will “uplift humanity to our next evolutionary potential.”
His sincerity is convincing enough, yet despite his conviction, it’s unclear if he is also looking into what the costs of immortality are.
Thankfully, philosophy has.
“A life prolonged by the elixir of immortality,” Roger Scruton warned in his essay, Dying in Time, “would be a life from which the things that we most value—love, adventure, novelty, courage, benevolence, compassion—would inexorably leach away.”
If we were immortal, we could postpone every action forever. It would not matter whether or not we did something now. But in the face of death as absolute finis to our future and boundary to our possibilities, we have no choice but to live our lifetimes to the utmost, not letting opportunities pass by unused.
For some people, dying is the most significant thing you can do. In Buddhism, nirvana or “extinguishing the flame,” is the highest state that someone can attain. Enlightenment is the extinction of suffering and ending the cycle of rebirth.
It’s worth noting that Johnson has not yet turned 50, and none of us know what will happen regarding aging and lifespan as artificial intelligence evolves. What we do know, however, as Scruton reminds us, is that the fire of life burns at every stage of existence, perhaps even when we die—and it’s the rich depth of life that ultimately matters, not its mere length.
Liz Ramsay is a freshman at New York University, originally from Ojai, California, studying economics and the business of entertainment. She’s particularly interested in the intersections of renewable energy, technology, and media. Outside of class, she enjoys camping, thoughtful conversations about philosophy, and playing jazz piano.
