[ WP ] Humans have - by a very large margin - the longest lifespans of all intelligent life in the universe . You are a human student at a multi- species college , and you / your friends are just realizing that compared to them , you are an ancient being .

Kevin leaned back in his comfortable chair, and selected the non-sonic `` listening'' device from it's drop-down menu. He scrolled through the musical options as they popped onto his HUD. With a definitive motion, he selected his favourite Oldies station, and began to hum along as he continued to unpack. 
 
 Kevin's roommate, Pol, had finished unpacking some time ago, and was reading up on the syllabi for his upcoming classes. Pol made a number of quick glances in the direction of the Earthling, but did little to interact with him. This came as no surprise to Kevin, as he had heard that Pol's race, the Issmir, were very task-oriented. 
 
 The Issmir looked like a strange cross between an ant and a newt. Dominant reptilian characteristics were accented with insectoid flair. Thin arms, thin, quick legs, and eyes almost too big for their bodies mingled with mandibles and antennae like awkward preteens at a dance. Leathery skin seemed to be spray painted with chitin. 
 
 Kevin continued humming along to the music as it played in his mind, putting literal meaning to having `` a song stuck in your head''. The chorus was coming to a close, and it was the only part of the song that he actually remembered, so Kevin sung it aloud: ``... when you've only got a hundred years to live.'' 
 
 The phrase seemed to echo in the hall. It hung in the air like a thick mist. The Issmir boy froze, then slowly turned to the human. Kevin, however, was oblivious to the effect that his words had invoked, and simply stretched and continued his musical massacre of a decades-old song. 
 
 `` Wha -- what did you just say?'' Pol finally sputtered. 
 
 Kevin stopped humming, glanced up at his HUD, and selected the translation program, stopping the music in the process. 
 
 `` Did I say something? I was only humming.'' He flicked at the air, moving the timeline of translation program back and forth. It tracked everything said by the user, and anyone in a defined area. Kevin suddenly realised that he looked like a fool, his finger extended from his hand, simply tracking from side to side and back again, and his roommate staring at him like a deer in the headlights ( whatever that was ). 
 
 Confident that his humming had not been mistranslated, he flicked one more painfully obvious time to the end of the timeline, displaying: `` a hundred years to live'' and stared blankly at the words. 
 
 It was Pol who snapped out of his daze first. Excitedly, he said, `` Yes, you did speak. You stated, musically I might add, that you only have one hundred years to live. My planet, Issmi, is very similar in composition, axis, orbit, and rotation to your Earth. Our central stars are also similar, thus, our orbit times around said stars is approximately the same. In fact, this is true for most of the species that have entered the Interplanetary Alliance. Can you really be one hundred years old, though?'' 
 
 Kevin, slightly shocked by his roommate's sudden burst of extroversion stuttered, `` Well, I mean, not yet. I'm only twenty. I entered the Educational Exchange at twenty years old, just like the rest of the Hu -- I mean, Terrans here.'' Kevin stopped himself quickly. He had learned just a few weeks ago that `` U'min'' was a derogatory term used by the Piljaci Consortium for some of the other `` less desirable'' interplanetary races. 
 
 `` But that ca n't -- twenty years? As in: rotations around your central star?'' Kevin nodded, and Pol flopped languidly to his spartan mattress, repeating `` years,'' `` Years, he says,'' in myriad variations and emphasises. 
 
 Kevin, confused at the reaction, sat on his own fluffy bedspread. Some time later, Kevin interrupted Pol's breakdown with a question, `` Is that strange?'' 
 
 Pol eased himself up, and looked Kevin in the eye. `` I always thought it was a mistranslation, an error. There was no way that you Terrans could live that long. It is impossible.'' He breathed deeply, and lifted seven spindly fingers at Kevin, `` Seven generations. If the reports are correct, from today, you alone could know seven generations of any other member race of the Alliance. You age approximately ten times slower than the rest of us. 
 
 `` The other races input a candidate to the Exchange at twenty percent the average life span. This was the agreed upon age. Yet, twenty percent of your age is still twice mine.'' Pol rested his head back, lying flat. `` What has happened in ten of my lifetimes?'' 
 
 As Pol sat silently, Kevin looked up the history of Issmi. Limiting his search to within the past century, he looked through the timeline: spaceflight, manned orbit, the Orbital Wars, Reconstruction, colonization of a nearby asteroid system, then being discovered by the Consortium, who introduced them to FTL travel, then their entrance to the Alliance. All of this, however, was done with nearly no significant advances in medical science. The idea of a dedicated healer was a strictly Terran concept. During the Orbital Wars, millions died from rampant infections and a lack of medical care. 
 
 This disregard for infection control was also to blame for the deaths of a great many First Contact groups. Ships were quarantine zones, and intergalactic debate was held without ever greeting the other delegates in person. The Alliance was created to increase trust within the intergalactic community, but could only move forward after Terran scientists created the Intergalactic Inoculation Nanotechnology Program. 
 
 Kevin found himself staring at the IINP logo of his HUD. The nanomachines were the first major step in integrating the various species of the Alliance, and were later upgraded to include software for translation, entertainment, education, as well as maintaining the host body for interaction with alien life. The nanotech also increased the average lifespan of all host populations by about ten percent. 
 
 Pol broke the silence again, `` Imagine the things that you must have seen. I mean, what do you do with all that time? How does someone spend a century!?'' 
 
 `` One-quarter to one-third, we spend sleeping. Personally, I have to get eight hours of sleep a night, or I am useless the next day.'' Kevin looked back at Pol, who was staring again. `` What? You do n't sleep?'' 
 
 `` Not eight hours a night! That's absurd!'' Pol shouted, gaunt arms flailing widely. 
 
 `` The rest of the time,'' Kevin said, `` we spend working, entertaining ourselves, and thinking. At least I do.'' 
 
 `` What do you think about?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know. Sometimes it's problem-solving, other times fantasizing, or thinking about how I want to spend my life. You know, like, what I want to do when I get out of the Exchange, or what I want to do while I am here. I still have n't picked a major, so I think about that a lot.'' 
 
 The silence lay on them again. They sat staring, like campers into the darkness, trying to find something that was n't there. They waited for the other person to feed the fire of conversation and dispel the dark. 
 
 Pol spoke again, though much slower than before, `` Our lives are chosen for us on Issmi. There is little freedom because we have so little time. We burn through our lives, hoping that the next generation will have an easier time.'' 
 
 `` What good is life, though, if you ca n't do something with it? Why not enjoy it?'' Kevin thought a moment, then said, `` Something to think about, anyhow.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, thank you, Kevin,'' said Pol. `` I think I will think about this.'' Lying back comfortably, and closing his eyes Pol added, `` Because I have time.''
