I recently received correspondence from a young man facing a difficult decision, who came to Everlife for help with his Afterlife services.
With his permission, I have reproduced his letter in case there are others out there facing the same circumstances. I imagine with the demise of Malcoar, there will be.
Rest assured that Everlife can help ‘bring back the dead’ in certain cases. We do a lot more here than simply life extension!
Success has to do with the individual circumstances, however, of how the soul was preserved and whether the nerve net is sufficiently intact to interface to HiveMind(TM).
If you would like to discuss your life extension situation with us, please do not hesitate to contact our pre-sales department. They will be happy to arrange a consultation between yourself and our customer support team.
Senior Charge of Marketing
Everlife Corporation (everlife.eu)
What follows is an actual email correspondence reproduced with permission from the sender…
I am writing to you in the hope that you might be able to help me with a delicate situation.
My grandfather was a brilliant and eccentric man. For many of our family, he was highly entertaining yet, at the same time, intractably stubborn and infuriating. When he passed away a few years ago, I’m sure there were those of us who breathed a collective sigh of relief.
But not me. In fact, I recall many long, blissful summers spent with him in his workshop, tinkering on impossible projects. He was a dreamer but, sadly, not much of a finisher. He was more of a mad inventor. Often of things that never worked and which made little sense to anyone. None of this diminished his brilliance in my eyes, but, as I grew older, I recognised that he was fallable. It pained me that he never saw anything to completion. New ideas popped into his head like raindrops in a storm. No sooner had one entered his imagination, then he would abandon whatever he was doing and move onto the next – usually very grand – idea.
In the latter years of his life, he was working on a form of recyclable energy. To no one’s surprise, he become more and more obsessed with this project and was often seen writing copious amounts of notes in locked volumes. He coveted his diaries and nobody knew where he kept them. Most of the family thought it was the onset of dementia, as it was unusual for him to devote so much passion and resource to a single project.
I had my own life to worry about, however. I had finished my masters in engineering, got married and started a family. I saw less and less of him during that period. And then he died.
It pained me very much to see him go and for a number of months afterwards, I found the grief deeper than I had anticipated. But, life goes on, doesn’t it? His memory receded and became coloured by all the good times and none of the bad.
Then, a month ago, he returned.
Not as I remember him, mind you. I came home to find a delivery on my doorstep. It looked like a giant, industrial-sized washing machine unit. The courier had no idea what it was, only that it had come from Malcoar. Now, I’m sure you’re starting to put two and two together, but – at the time – I had no idea what I was in for.
Unbeknownst to any of us, my grandfather had signed up for cryogenic suspension – not out of vanity – but, apparently, he believed that he had nearly solved the energy crisis, but hadn’t properly completed his research, yet. He knew that the end of his life was in sight and wanted an insurance policy of some kind. He had hoped that keeping his brain intact would preserve his breakthrough, and he put my name down as his custodian. He had pre-paid with an annuity, so that I should never have to shoulder any financial burden. Or, so I thought.
To cut a long story short, Malcoar – as you are probably aware – has gone bust. They were left with a lot of people to whom they had a contractual obligation to take care of, but no means by which to do it. During the bankruptcy proceedings, somebody came up with the imbecilic idea of ‘care in the community’ – which meant that they crafted makeshift, portable suspension units and shipped them out to whomever was designated as custodian.
You can imagine my surprise when it showed up on my doorstep! Along with a box containing all of his notes and observations.
At first, I felt the pressure of filial piety and tried to do my best to keep it running. My wife didn’t want it in the utility room, because it took up too much space. She didn’t want it in the basement, either, because she found it off-putting. In the end, gramps was relegated to the shed. I even had to hire in an electrician to bring in a new electricity ring, given all the power that this thing required.
To be honest, it is very difficult to maintain. Not only does it consume an enormous amount of electricity (which sent my utility bill skyrocketing), but I even have to source canisters of liquid nitrogen, practically weekly. There were times when I wondered if it was all worth it. My wife, as you have probably gathered, was not enamoured by the idea of grandpa in the shed, either. She could see what he was costing us and all the distraction he was causing. I had some projects slip at work and the kids needed help with their homework.
She began questioning my commitment as a father. I reminded her that I was also a grandson, but she failed to appreciate this. Frankly, she wanted me to pull the plug. As far as she was concerned, grandpa was dead already and he belonged in a plot by the church.
I think the final straw for her was when the kids were preparing for their annual school play and suggested they could do a dress rehearsal for grandpa. Further interrogation revealed that they often spent time with him in the shed reading stories and playing games. Of course, the conversation was always one-sided – grandpa simply ‘resided’ there and had no way of communicating with them. Nevertheless, it had sparked their imagination in much the same way as children who have an imaginary friend, a special stuffed toy, or some other anima with whom they share their secrets, fears and desires. My wife was particularly upset and began to worry that it was unhealthy for them to spend such quality time with a ‘dead’ person.
We found ourselves bickering more and more about the whole thing. I tried to justify my actions. In my mind, grandpa wasn’t really dead, but simply ‘suspended’, as Malcoar put it, for the time being. Perhaps, I didn’t want to let go. Maybe that is why I couldn’t share her perspective. He had meant a great deal to me as a young man. In fact, I would go so far as to credit him for getting me into engineering school in the first place and helping me find something to believe in. Nobody else in my family took as much time and care as he did when it came to my personal and educational development. Was I clinging too firmly to a dream to the detriment of my living family?
To be honest, I think my wife was grappling with some spiritual conflicts of her own. She lives primarily as an agnostic, but was brought up in a Protestant – Catholic family (which is probably why she’s agnostic!) – but that doesn’t mean that some of her parents’ religious morality hasn’t rubbed off on her. I think she felt conflicted by the idea of a soul in stasis. She believes the Afterlife should not be man-made, or that Malcoar has somehow cheated death, and cheating the people that deserve to go somewhere better, afterwards. I suppose only God can manufacture and offer legitimate Afterlife services in her mind. This could be an undercurrent to her objection. She wants me to set him free.
Oftentimes, I have wondered if she was right. Perhaps grandpa does, indeed, deserve a final resting place and all of us (himself included) some closure. I gradually convinced myself that death was planned obsolescence for a reason. Perhaps we, as a society, are ill-equipped to deal with the complications of living forever and, until such time, we need to evolve a bit more.
But the situation became more complicated by grandpa’s research. I read his diaries in my spare time and knew enough from my current profession to know that he was definitely onto something. These aren’t the ramblings of an incoherent, demented mind.
Now, I don’t understand everything, mind you – but I do know people who might be a better judge of this. I showed a few choice excerpts and they became very excited – quite agitated in fact – and wanted to see more. This puts me in an even more difficult predicament. If there is a possibility that grandpa’s brain has the key to unlocking this energy miracle, then I would be doing a lot more harm by putting him to rest than simply getting rid of him and freeing up our shed. It could be a tragedy for the whole of civilisation!
Of course, my wife still thinks that I’m clutching at excuses. But, I have to know the truth.
I came across your company after doing some research and I understand that you have a procedure that actually puts us in contact with those in suspended animation? It’s called, “HiveMind”, I believe. If this is true, then I would love to talk to you further about what can be done to put grandpa back online.
Sincerely,[Name removed to protect third-party]“
Prepare yourself for the ‘Forever Now’ – EverLife