On Interesting Times, a podcast channel on Spotify, tech millionaire and founder of the ‘Don’t Die’ movement, Bryan Johnson, 49, described a typical day in his life. He sleeps at 8 pm, his every action relentlessly monitored — quality of sleep, resting heart rate, blood sugar levels — all in the hope of figuring out immortality through the optimisation of science and technology. Johnson, who refers to himself as a “living experiment” has structured his routine to reverse biological ageing, the ultimate aim being making death optional. He begins his mornings with a hemp and pea protein powder, along with berries, nuts and seeds. Similar, non-mouthwatering meals follow suit. Indeed, the first (alarming) cost that comes to mind regarding his valiant attempt to defy death is: there’d be no more Eggs Benedict.

Perhaps, it had to come to this. We’re at peak human innovation, en route to Star Trek-like interplanetary travel amid other disturbing technological leaps, such as semi-sentient AI innovation becoming capable of unleashing havoc on its creators. While the world grapples with how to rein in AI, the last and, by far, the most glorious frontier of human achievement, outsmarting time, isn’t supposed to be all that far away either.

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There’s nothing new about the desire not only to live longer but to do so without the visible signs of ageing. A billion-dollar wellness industry is constantly improvising ways to avoid getting old; new-age practices such as sub-zero cryotherapy, infrared saunas and what Johnson does — Intermittent Hypoxic Training — intentionally exposing the body to low-oxygen environments for short bursts of time to improve endurance, recovery and overall health.

The fact that we do not stay young forever has rankled throughout history — which is why many ancient epics carry tales of humanity chasing some version of the elixir of youth. The Mesopotamian hero Gilgamesh sought eternal life by travelling to find a rejuvenation plant located at the bottom of the ocean. Myths about immortality-granting waters appear as ‘Amrita’ in Hinduism. Woody Allen gloomily and hilariously noted the limitations of mortality, saying “I don’t want to live on through my work; I want to live on in my apartment.” Writers like Bram Stoker (Dracula) and Oscar Wilde instinctively understood impermanence on earth is a cause of stress. In the dark parable that is The Picture of Dorian Gray, a magical portrait bears the ugly scars of the protagonist’s hedonism while his real face remains ethereally youthful. But immortality in Wilde’s masterpiece is a curse more than a gift. It’s a logical thought: after having experienced every emotion — love, anger, desire and sorrow — several times over, what is left?

Surely there comes a time when this repetitive cycle becomes a colossal bore. The great Stoic philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer identified that our emotional lives swing between the pain of wanting and the boredom of having. It turns out all satisfactions are fleeting, and an uneasy existential tedium is humanity’s default setting. If, in an ordinary lifespan, lasting happiness is, at best, temporary, there’s even less reason to hanker after an extra long one. The solution to ennui? Finding something to occupy the mind and stave away idleness. The world has a great deal to offer by way of distraction, and being fully absorbed in a book or a movie is the closest one comes to enjoying some short-lived clarity.

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Luckily, it’s circa 2026, and there’s plenty of room for audacious ideas such as Johnson’s, who has the gall to ask, why should we die? To paraphrase that a bit differently, how should we live? It’s the current moment that deserves our concentration. The thing is that you can live like a saint and still get hit by a bus. We only get one shot at this. It would be a waste to spend so much precious time thinking about the end.

The writer is director, Hutkay Films