Every young child enamoured with his or her own imagination dreams of many things: Flying, space travel, three-way sex with that chick from Isidingo and a moustached Ron Weasley (okay too personal). Yet since Dr. Emmet Brown reached 88mph in “Back To The Future” , there is an infatuation with time travel unrivalled. Steven Hawkings’ claim to fame, besides having the brain of ten men and the body of a Kenwood Toaster, is his theory of the space time continuum and how time is not linear, and travelling through it is a plausible ideal. However most children aren’t likely to magically travel the speed of light, enter a black hole, and come rocketing out backwards on a nuclear charged Big-Wheels in the year 2056. So, for at least the moment, we are going to have to be content with 2011 and all the ethically backward Norwegians that come with it. However, all hope is not lost, Futurama is in the process of becoming more than just a Simpsons spin-off that shouldn’t have been cancelled.
Dr Robert Ettinger is, or rather was, the founder of a movement that advocates storing frozen bodies; which kind of aggrieves me, because I store just 3 and half bodies in my freezer and I’m all of a sudden “The bad guy”. However, the sweet doctor has been researching, since World War 2, the possibility of cryogenically incarcerating tissue in ice, to be revived at a later stage. Until last week when he himself passed away and has been stored in his own personal sub zero tomb. The idea is that nano-technology in the future will be able to repair broken tissue from hypothermia and then, once a cure for your ailment has been found, bring you back to life. And while it might sound like a fantastic premise for the screenplay of “Snow Zombies 3:Battlefor theArctic”, his research remains relatively sound.
The Future of cryonics is based around the notion that science will develop to the point where any procedure can be possible. It just doesn’t exist yet. But it will, or at least that is what the 256 current icicles trapped inside a snowy limbo, where their right hand can’t even touch their own penis, are hoping. Temperatures below 150 degrees Celsius literally stop the metabolism, casting the individual in a permanent pose, waiting for the day when they are thawed and can come bounding out of the ice with a smirky “I told you so bitches” to all their critics.
But would I freeze myself? At the moment, not a chance. If I were to contract a deadly illness then I would view it as the karmic circle of life biting down hard, and let nature take its course. With global warming, nuclear terror and Perez Hilton all on a steadfast incline I’m not sure if the future would be such an ideal place to live anyway. I don’t want to wake in 500 years time and all I have to show for it is a fragile body and the modern day global knowledge of a Christopher Columbus detractor. I’m quite keen on remaining exceptionally intelligent in a 21st Century context and living out my days in the sun. If you’ve ever read Stephen King’s “PetCemetery” then you’ll be aware that things that are buried (or frozen) don’t always come back to life as expected. Sure our tissue might be intact, but our consciousness and brain activity could differ drastically. In the last twenty years we have seen the invention of cell phones, new cars and the internet, in centuries the world could be a place that would easily skewer our sanity, and im already on rocky ground!
However, I definitely think there is a need to remain in an elongated state of cryogenic suspension. Space travel would become plausible, sending astronauts further than ever before, allowing us to understand further parts of our universe. It would also allow first hand accounts of history by literally sending academics into the future. We’d be able to let Justin Bieber be the 23rd Century’s problem through a series of rogue kidnappings and truly teach future generations what not to do. But beyond all doubt, the number one reason to lock yourself in a chilled prison is to awake in 250 years time, meet and shag your great great great great grand daughter, lie back, light a crispy genetically engineered Marlboro Light and quietly mutter to yourself “And you thought you were good Joseph Frietzel”.
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