The Facility

Nothing to Lose

It started like any other day. The sun was out. Warm. But the air was crisp and cool, with early signs of autumn. The trees were still mostly green, but their leaves had begun turning orange and red. The green grass wouldn’t be covered in snow for at least another month or two, if not more. It all depended on the weather patterns, and with climate change, who knew what to expect this year. Some experts claimed it’d be an early, freezing, and long winter. Others said it’d be pretty mild; they might not even see any snow except for a light dusting once or twice.

As for Alan, he really didn’t know much about meteorology – or any other scientific discipline, for that matter. He was an artist. A creative type. An aspiring musician – emphasis on the “aspiring” part. He knew a little drums. Could play the sax. Dabbled with the guitar too, of course. But his real focus and passion was the piano. He loved playing piano. The range of notes and sounds and feelings one could create with that single instrument. Fast songs, slow songs, classic rock, modern techno – a piano could complement them all. Especially with the electronic keyboards these days, that could be programmed to synthesize and replicate any other instrument too!

It gave Alan a sense of inventive power and creative freedom.

…If only anybody cared.

He wrote some original songs and uploaded them to the web. He was on all the major music platforms, and most of the minor ones nobody heard about or ever used, too. He tried selling his music. He tried giving it away, hoping it’d lead to more people wanting to pay to see him in person. Unfortunately, beyond the support of his friends and family, his music never really gained any traction or took off. His music got buried in all the noise of everyone else’s songs, lost in the endless void of cyberspace… hoping, waiting, to be discovered someday.

But that day had yet to come.

To pay the bills in the meantime, Alan worked a variety of gig jobs. Deliveries, ride shares, even things like painting new homes and moving furniture for elderly couples. He tried investing in crypto, but alas, that didn’t bring him the riches he was promised either. When he was in his 20s, nobody thought twice about his “freelance” independent lifestyle. His parents said he was still trying to “find himself”. And he assured them and all his friends that it was only a matter of time before his music blew up. But soon the years went by, and before he knew it, Alan had turned 30 and had yet to hold a typical full-time job. Which would’ve been fine if his crypto took off, but instead he found himself with less money at the end of the year and no savings left over.

His dad started to get on his case. “When are you going to settle down and get a real job?” he’d ask.

But Alan had “real” jobs – lots of freelance gigs. And small performances here and there, where he’d make a couple hundred bucks a night to play his piano at a restaurant or casino. He was just background music for the guests. Nobody came specifically to hear him play. But it was, in fact, a “real job.” Just not a steady one – or a very high-paying one. But it was his passion. What he loved to do. He was born to play. He simply wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.

And then more years went by. He reached his mid-30s, still seemingly stuck at low-paying music gigs. And what little money he earned from all his freelance jobs, he put towards recording his next album. Maybe this one would gain him the attention he deserved. All he needed was one hit. One successful song. And then fans would go back and buy and listen to all his previous songs too. He just needed one hit.

And then he turned 40. Still treading water in obscurity.

He had made the wrong decision? Were his parents right? Should he have gotten a typical 9-to-5 job, something in the corporate world, something that offered benefits and paid time off?

He’d certainly have more money if he did. Maybe he’d even be married now too. With kids. And a house. Maybe even a second car! Or at least a big TV with the latest games and movies and music, all legally owned too. Alan could pirate stuff if he wanted to. But as an aspiring musician, somehow it just didn’t seem right if he stole from other artists.

So he settled for what he could afford. He settled for the free stuff online. He settled for asking his friends and family to buy him what he wanted for Christmas and his birthday. But sometime in his 30s, people stopped buying presents for each other.

Maybe he should just give up on his music. If it was going to happen for him, surely it would’ve happened by now. Who was he kidding? He was a loser. He’d never make it. He was only fooling himself.

He loved playing music. It made him feel so young, so free, so alive… Nothing lit up his soul and made him feel so good like playing a new song and sharing his music with others… using his music to make others feel something. Happy, sad, inspired, or sometimes even aroused. Music could set any mood. Music was the heartbeat of the universe, the rhythm of the soul. This was his gift. He just wished it could pay his bills, too.

And then at age 42, something happened.

Something stupid. Something that never happened before.

He was carrying his keyboard from his car to the casino lounge for another gig, just like he’d done hundreds of times before. But this time, he wasn’t sure what he did differently, but somehow he twisted his back the wrong way, and suddenly, he felt intense, crippling pain.

The kind of debilitating pain where he couldn’t stand up straight. Sharp shooting pain, tightening down his spine, as he tried to lift and carry his electric keyboard.

Suddenly he found himself sitting on the asphalt, leaning against the tire of his car, his keyboard on the ground beside him. He tried to get up. But moving just made the pain worse.

A nearby valet saw him and helped him into a wheelchair. The young guy – someone in his 20s – was so kind and friendly. He wheeled Alan into the casino lounge and carried his keyboard for him. He helped Alan set it up, before running back to his valet post.

Fortunately, Alan could move his wrists and fingers just fine – as long as he sat still and didn’t move the rest of his body. He played that night – he finished his gig – pushing through his intense back pain the entire time.

Getting home was a little trickier. It was late. His shift didn’t end until 2 AM. By then, the casino was down to a skeleton staff. He wanted to ask for help, but there was no one around. Maybe he could’ve called for help. Found a manager or something. Maybe it was just his pride – or embarrassment – that made him drag himself and his keyboard, one slow and pain-filled step at a time, until finally, at last, he made it back to his car.

He propped the keyboard at an angle, used his shoulder and leaned against it, and little by little, slowly pushed it inside his car – feeling excruciating pain whenever he used any of his core or back muscles.

He limped around to the driver’s seat, slowly and carefully inched himself inside the car, and once he was sitting again – he took a breath and relaxed.

This was not good.

His income was low enough that he qualified for the government-sponsored medical care. It wasn’t the best, but it was better than nothing. Alan realized he hadn’t had a checkup in years. And he worried that other health issues may be on the horizon. So he scheduled an appointment with his primary care physician.

He explained what happened. He hoped for a prescription for some pain killers or something. The doctor ran him through a series of tests. Drew some blood. Checked his heart. Listened to his lungs.

“You’re just getting old,” his doctor said. “You really need to start taking better care of yourself.” He gave a list of health foods to eat – and a longer list of what not to eat. He recommended daily stretching and exercise. He said that injuries like this were probably going to be a little more common for Alan the older he got, and it’d take more time to rest and recover than it would have in his teens or twenties.

But Alan wasn’t that old! He was only 42!

Okay, so he didn’t technically have the healthiest or most active lifestyle, but really who did?

“Can’t you just give me a prescription for some pain killers?” Alan asked.

“I can if that’s what you want, but I’m telling you that’s not going to solve your problems. I wanna order an x-ray, make sure there’s no signs of arthritis. I’d also like to do an MRI, to check for bulging discs and other back issues. We’ll see how your bloodwork comes back, but we may have to work on your cholesterol too. Your lungs sounded weak. We need to test for COPD and other respiratory issues. Your heartrate’s a little fast and blood pressure’s pretty high. A pain killer’s not going to fix all that.” And then his voice got real serious. “If you don’t start taking your health more seriously, you’re probably looking at a heart attack within the next ten years. Or worse.”

Whoa.

But Alan knew he was right.

Most of his music gigs required Alan being around a lot of second hand smoke for his entire shift. A lot of the restaurants and casinos would treat him to free drinks fairly often too. None of that was great for his lungs or liver, now that he was getting older. Plus the irregular sleep schedules, the on-going financial stress of wondering how he was gonna pay the rent that month, the lack of exercise… And when he wasn’t stressed, he was often depressed – living in a small, old, shitty apartment – alone – while all his friends had found someone, gotten married, and started families of their own. Some of their kids were starting to graduate high school already! And Alan was still single and “looking for the one.”

His life was going nowhere. His music was never going to be a financial success. Alan was never going to be a success… He was so alone. And now his own body, wearing down over the years, was starting to fail him too.

It wasn’t fair. But what could he do?

“But if you’re interested,” the doctor continued, “you’re eligible for an experimental new treatment. Real cutting edge stuff.”

Wait… what? That got Alan’s attention.

“Some new technology they’re developing out of human longevity research. Aging is just an accumulation of having more damaged cells than healthy new ones. But just like you can restore an old beat-up car and make it good as new, researchers believe the human body can be restored and repaired too, at the cellular level. Like I said, it’s a new and experimental treatment. But it’s recently been approved for human trials. And with your state-funded insurance, you’re actually fully covered.”

Alan needed to make sure he was understanding the doctor correctly. “Wait. Are saying they can make me young again? Like, literally, physically, I mean?”

The doctor nodded. “That’s the theory. It’s worked on lab mice. But humans aren’t mice. There could be unforeseen complications. But if it works, it’ll open up a whole new field of medicine – and reverse and even eliminate a whole list of age-related diseases. Alzheimer’s, heart disease, kidney failure… gray hairs, wrinkly skin… those could all become things of the past, if this new technology delivers what it promises.”

“And my insurance would completely pay for it?” Alan asked in disbelief.

The doctor chuckled. “Oh, believe me, rich people are in line waiting to apply this tech for themselves – only after it’s proven safe on humans. So the government needs some guinea pigs, to be quite frank with you, and that usually means poor people. But, hey, if it works – you’ll be among the first to benefit from it. And you’ll have gotten it for free.”

What did Alan have to lose? It’s not like his life was going anywhere anyway. “Sign me up,” he said.