The hard edged tones of a classic Eno generative rang through Steve’s head almost causing him to drop the coffee he’d just purchased. ‘Really need to change that ringtone’ he thought, ‘or this new implant phone is going to drive me batty’. The phone apparently took that as a cue to open the call, because a talking head at half transparency suddenly replaced the tube station’s ambient adverts in the upper right quadrant of his vision.
“Many of those living today will never die, and you can be one of them!” enthused the richly modulated tones of the earnest looking man on the call. He had dark skin, what looked like north-Asian ancestry, and a Luna farside accent.

Steve ducked into a free tube pod and absent-mindedly replied while selecting his office from the list of destinations that pulsed in the center of his view. “Sound’s great. What kind of a price tag are we talking about?” He dropped into a seat and took a sip of coffee as the caller answered, “10% of your gross income, for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not bad – wait, for the rest of my life?” Steve queried.

“Yes.”

“But that would be forever, since I’d be immortal?”

“Oh, no” the caller corrected with satisfaction, “you only need to pay until you die.”

“Um, I think you’re confused about the definition of immortality. It doesn’t usually involve dying.”

“Don’t worry,” the man seemed more confident. “You won’t actually die. Your current physical form will pass way, but your mind and spirit will be taken up to paradise, to dwell there forever.”
Steve had been thinking in terms of a new biotech advance, now his mind diverted toward thoughts of cybertech. The pod doors slid smoothly closed before another passenger could enter. Assured of some time alone, Steve pondered the offer. “So, let me get this straight, I pay 10% to you guys until I die, whenever that is, and after I die I’m resurrected in paradise, where I can live forever, free of charge?”

The salesman smiled “Yes, that about covers it. You can join the program at any one of our weekly guidance meetings.”

Here’s the catch, Steve thought, “Meetings?”

“There’s a meeting you will need to attend every week, for an hour, maybe more some weeks.” Steve had visions of a clinic, some kind of brain scan to save a new backup copy for the promised virtual paradise, “Sounds reasonable.”

“Absolutely”, the caller regained his flow. ”In these meetings you will receive guidance from our trained representatives about how to work toward ensuring your eventual access to eternal life.”

“Wait,” Steve interjected again, “work towards? Isn’t that what my money is supposed to buy?”

“Well”, the salesman continued smoothly, “The money is a part of it, of course, but more important is how you behave. There are certain actions that will make it impossible for you to achieve immortality. We’ll help you modify your lifestyle to avoid them and you will be on your way to paradise!”

“What kind of behaviors are we talking about?”

“I can’t go into all the details on this call. It will all be covered in great detail in our weekly meetings. I can tell you that you will need to give up certain drugs, foods and some forms of sexual activity.“

“What? That seems a little odd. What kinds?”

“Again, this is something we cover in the meetings, but I can definitely say that most forms of shellfish are out and definitely any hallucinogenic drugs, unless they are administered by one of our representatives.” He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed “also, um, you won’t be able to engage in sex with members of the same gender.”

“Members of the same gender”, he paused, taking another sip, “ so, men, in my case?”

“Yes.”

“What about herms, hermaphrodites?’

The caller looked genuinely startled for a moment “Um, I’m not sure on that one. I mean, that’s a complex topic. I’m sure this will be covered in a meeting”

“Ok. That sounds fine” Steve countered with some impatience, “I mean, I’m not generally attracted to men anyway and herms kind of creep me out. Really looking forward to learning why that would matter though. I’d certainly like this nailed down before I sign any kind of a contract.”

“Oh, there’s no contract to sign.” The salesman was looking glad to be back on firmer ground. “You are absolutely free to join or leave at any time.”
Steve took another mouthful of coffee, thinking this one through. “So, technically, I could join the week before my death, attend one meeting and get in to paradise?”

The salesman was looking slightly strained again. “Well, yes, that is true . But you never know when you will die. You may live well in to your second century, or you could be like those poor people last week and perish in a shuttle accident.”

“Agreed,” Steve replied. His pod’s ETA counting down in the top left of his vision was edging toward single digits. “Look, I’ve got to go, but this does sound interesting. I’m just a bit concerned about the quality of the ‘paradise’. You know, one person’s paradise could be another person’s hell. I wouldn’t want to spend eternity is some kind of hellish situation”, Steve chuckled. “ I’d like to talk to some residents. Maybe get a preview?”

The salesman looked extremely apologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t do that”.

Steve just about spat out his current mouthful of coffee: “Why not?”

“We’ll, you see, we can’t contact the ‘other side’. Only those that have passed on can see the glories of paradise and they can’t communicate back to us. To even try would likely prevent you from achieving immortality.” The caller was visibly sweating now – odd that he hadn’t had that edited out of his online image, Steve thought. The caller continued, almost pleading. “ I am absolutely positive that paradise would be everything you desire and more.”

Frustrated with the conversation, Steve simply ended the call as he stepped out of the pod into his office building’s foyer.

In a spartan office in a run-down business park in Tycho south-side, a young man pulled the worn and battered comset from his head and ruffled his sweat-soaked hair. He turned to his long time friend and business partner “We must be missing something Stav. I’ve been at this for weeks, and not a single bite. You told me the ancients made credits hand over fist with this patter.”

“I told you the records were fragmented. I’ve pulled out as much as I can.” He started defensively, then sighed, “If it is what you want, I can do another deep dive in the archives.”

“Don’t bother” the younger man replied. His final concession to defeat evident in his voice, “Whatever trick the ancients had, we’ve either lost it, or people are just different now.” Injecting a bit of cheer into his voice he gave his partner a grin. “Enough of this deeply laid plans crap. Let’s just get out there and run a nice clean Ponzi scheme.”

The End