Now I can truly face the year with the brutal honesty, courage and low expectations it needs
Some berk has invented “longevity scales”. You step on to them and the tech packed into them by said berk scans 60 biomarkers – including your blood oxygen, heart’s rhythm and pumping efficiency, the distribution of fat and muscle, especially the visceral fat around your abdominal muscles, which is apparently the stuff that’s really out to get you, cellular age – and tells you you’re a goddamn mess.
Not exactly the last part. Your info is fed into an app which compares it all with others your own age, and spits out a heart age and a long-term and short-term health score for what is undoubtedly by this time your quaking and terrified self.
I mean – can you imagine? Instead of just having to face knowing your weight once a week, having to confront death on the daily? The Body Scan 2, as it’s known (I don’t know what happened to Body Scan 1 – maybe it went RoboCop and automatically killed anyone with a BMI over 30), would stand in the corner of your bathroom like a haunting. You would feel its creeping, malevolent presence all the time and eventually be driven mad merely by the thought of the knowledge it could bring.
