Signe was resigned to her fate. She did not have any more fight in her. She was going to die pretty and there was nothing else to be done about it. She was always bitter these days. She spent a lot of her time cursing human vanity. She sat on the rocking chair on her porch, the morning air cool on her porcelain cheeks. She looked at her hands flawless with no blotches or liver spots, holding her favorite cup. It was a large and tall mauve colored cup with the words "DayDreamer" in black stenciled on it. She wished she had sun and liver spots, which were considered old relics of ancient humans. Long selected out through DNA manipulation during the artificial conception process that was the current standard. Parents who opted to conceive children through sex were considered reckless, uneducated, and close minded.

The major problem with anti-aging was organ regeneration was still many centuries away from perfection. Several companies were busy working at it. Some focused on DNA manipulation but the people who were conceived ended up dying of cancer of one or multiple organs.

Other companies focused on creating artificial organs and performing surgeries to switch out people's organs as they aged and the organs they were born with failed. Only the ultra-wealthy could afford these elaborate surgeries. It cost an obscene amount of money to switch out one's heart, lungs, two kidneys, and a liver. And to top it off, there was a lifetime cost of organ rejection therapy involved with special diets and medications.

The success stories were miniscule to the point of irrelevance. They were termed the bionic class because they were just human shells with all the working parts switched out for lab generated ones. Due to all the cases of cancer and the myriad cases of psychological issues that arose from DNA manipulation and lab created babies, humanity had a massive shift towards the natural aging process of bygone eras again.

The year was 17,277 and aging was the rage again. People were showing off their skin lines with pride. She watched a feature story through her Metaverse head set as one of the studio audience members.

The host was interviewing a white woman. The identifier on the screen read: Magda Stevenson, Age: 92 years old. She was showing off her forehead skin lines proudly when Signe joined the live broadcast.

“You can see I have three on my forehead. I just think they are absolutely beautiful,” she said.

The host leaned forward in his chair in an attempt to see the lines better. The camera zoomed in very close to the woman’s face. So close, Signe could count the pores on her skin.

“Oh yes, I can see the lines. Gorgeous.” He said in his characteristic high pitched voice.

Signe thought his voice was even higher than usual which either meant he was jealous or lying.

Signe was now 233 years old. Her insides were mush. Her body ached and could barely do anything without screaming in revolt. She could only eat heavily curated liquid meals because her stomach could not digest a lot of foods anymore. She was ancient, but looked like she was not a day older than eighteen. She only aged slightly every few years.

“I started seeing signs of aging after I turned 75 years old,” the interviewee was saying. Her voice jolted Signe back to the present. She was a good century and change older than this woman but Signe could pass as her great-grand-daughter if looks were to be believed.

“Lucky bitch,” Signe thought to herself.