Dec 22nd, 2069
Richard's newfound vigor startled him as he stepped into Brenda's lab. His movements were fluid, and his thoughts were more clear and focused than they had been in years. Brenda, ever-diligent, was hunched over a microscope, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Well, you look fresh as a spring chicken," Brenda said without looking up from her work, "how does it feel being immortal?"
Richard chuckled. "Strange. I feel like I'm in my 40s again. I'd forgotten how this felt."
"Well, don't get used to it. The BioNano needs to be fine-tuned for each individual. We got lucky with you; it worked. But we still have a long way to go." Brenda finally looked up from her microscope and turned to Richard.
"And you're sure this can't be transferred through sex or blood transfusion?" Richard asked. Brenda folded her arms and looked at Richard, bemused.
"Are you asking me if I'm interested in becoming immortal, or is this about your extracurricular activities?" Richard shrugged, tracing an invisible pattern on the counter with his finger.
"You know I'm being serious. This is a breakthrough. But if it can be easily transferred... it could be misused," Richard replied.
Brenda shook her head and smiled. "No, it can't. The BioNano has to be fine-tuned for each individual's DNA. If I took your blood and put it in someone else, it wouldn't work. They might get a few of your memories, some habits, for a short duration, but without the correct fine-tuning, it eventually fails and causes all kinds of unpleasant side effects."
"So each person who wants to use this tech has to come for customized synthesis?" Richard asked.
"Yes," Brenda nodded. "It's an invasive process, about a week long at best, but worth it. No shortcuts for immortality."
She paused, switching into scientist mod, "The DNA harvesting is invasive and time-consuming, requiring multiple samples from extensive parts of the body. We have to assemble a unique DNA hash for each patient to achieve a template check and double-check that the nanobot is still functioning properly. Without the proper customization, the bot will terminate. You don't want people slowly turning into other people."
"But nothing is unhackable," Richard was liking this conversation less and less.
"Each bot has three functions: repair cell's DNA, replicate, terminate. Only the first requires any communication. It communicates with all the other bots creating a collective hash. If the majority hash does not match the bot's own hash, it terminates. It cannot 'infect' the wrong body. And external communication, if something were advanced enough to spoof the majority of the bots, could only succeed in killing a bot, not repurposing it," pride was strong in her voice, and it made Richard smile.
"I love it when you talk down to me," he made sure she knew he was joking, then shifted the topic slightly, "I wouldn't mind if a quantum computer found a way to disable the bots. Curing disease and having a second lease on youth is one thing, but I'm not sure I want to live forever."
Their conversation was interrupted by a soft ping from Brenda's workstation. An alert on her monitor indicated that the latest set of data was ready for extraction. Brenda sighed, readjusting her lab coat with a sense of renewed purpose.
"Alright, back to work. Advances in bio-nanotechnology wait for no one."
Richard stood. "I'll leave you to it." He affectionately patted her rump.
As he walked out, he felt a surge of gratitude. An average man turned extraordinary, his immortality was a testament not only to Brenda's relentless pursuit of knowledge but also to the immense human capacity for resilience.