[ WP ] When you reach the age of 25 , you will respawn back to 25 anytime you die . When you reach age 50 , you no longer respawn if you die .

¬¬¬ Saw the Writing Prompt and a vague idea formed in my head. Just started writing and this is what I got. Only slightly edited and reviewed. Lem me know what you think. ¬¬¬¬¬ 
 
 Knees, elbows, shins, ankes, wrists and forearms didn ’ t sustain themselves as much as they used to. That was the problem with old age. Things got weaker and it became harder and harder just to move around. Enjoying the simple things in life was something that I ’ d learned long ago, and persistence was one of the simple things that people had forgotten. There was a satisfaction from eating healthy and cleansing your body of toxicants the natural way; doing exercise to build resilience; getting wisdom from becoming that bit more frail and weary, rather than just relying on the ReStart™. It was something that took me at least seventy years to figure out. 
 
 Finally though I was released from my contractual obligations to repay CloneGen. I ’ d finally paid back the twenty-million price-tag that I ’ d accumulated from all my ReStarts™. They would now allow me to age beyond bio-fifty all by myself. No more forcible ReStart™ for me for being in debt, thank you very much. It was just as good that my time was over. The world around me was getting more and more disgusting by the minute and I didn ’ t have the life left in me to try and keep up anymore. 
 
 It seemed as if people put all their effort into looking exactly perfect, being as fit and healthy as possible for when they turned twenty-five, but all of that determination and drive went out the window when they got the ReClone™. I mean you ’ d be stupid to not make yourself the best you could be once you went for your ReBase™. Every time you got a ReStart™ you wanted to have the best advantage possible. But it was critical to hold onto at least some of that determination and drive to still become a better person. Your ReBase™ wasn ’ t the best person that you could be. But everyone had seemed to forget that. 
 
 Sometimes I thought that I was one of the few sane people left in the modern world. Perhaps one of the only ones left since the early days of ReClone™. It had taken me seventy years to get from twenty-five years old to fifty years old. Well forty nine years and three hundred and sixty days bio age to be exact. I think. It had been so long since a birthday meant anything to me that I kind of didn ’ t remember when it was anymore. Also add to that fact that I was adopted at an early age, my records sealed and my whole former identity wiped out. In all of my ninety five years of existence on this planet I still hadn ’ t found out anything about all of that. But I ’ m pretty sure that the birthday I ’ d celebrated my entire life was actually a celebration of my adoption day. Who knows when I was actually born. 
 
 ReClone™ knew though. When my bio-indicators showed that was fifty bio years old, the ReGen™ tech would be automatically disabled and I wouldn ’ t be able to ReStart™ anymore now that I ’ d paid off my contract. By my best calculations that was only five days away. However I had no idea when my bio birthday actually was so the ReGen™ tech in my head might as well be disabled now. 
 
 The thing that got me, that no one talked about because we were all too scared to, was that maybe I died seventy years ago when I got the ReBase™. I might be long-dead and I may be the copy of a copy of a copy of a copy, twenty times over. I look and feel the same, but technically my body dies every time I ReStart™. My memories are collected by a series of chips in my head and replicated into the latest one of my ReClones™, a perfect copy of my ReBase™ that I did when I was twenty-five. I was technically dead and my memories transferred into another body which looked and reacted the same as I did. But it wasn ’ t technically me, was it. I had the memories right up to the point of each ReStart™; the most traumatic moments being automatically edited out. That made me, me, right? 
 
 I ’ d been pondering this for the last twenty five years since the moment I decided that I didn ’ t like the possible answers. It was the reason why I ’ d decided not to extend my ReClone™ contract. I was whatever I was, whether that be a clone of a long-dead person or myself. It didn ’ t really matter. I was who, and what, I was and there was nothing that I could do to change it. My choices were what I really was, and I was choosing to live how a person should live. Expire into old age. 
 
 There was so much removed from life without having to be afraid of being hurt or dying. I couldn ’ t remember what it was like from before my ReBase™. But there were so many testimonials on the net of people who had gotten out of their contracts and people who didn ’ t have a ReBase™, that the majority of humans were not living a human life anymore. 
 
 What ’ s the point in living life if you ’ re not really living? Isn ’ t it just a set of experiences then? I ’ d had enough of experiences and was choosing to start living my life. Even though it was a lot harder as my almost fifty bio year old self than it was in my twenty-five bio year old ReBase™. 
 
 I ’ d always been fascinated by birds and flying my entire life though. But horrifically scared of flying as well. For no good reason, obviously there was nothing to be scared about. Any kind of aircraft crash would only cost me two-million dollars in debit, with an unlimited time to pay it off. And most of that would be covered by insurance because of the accidental nature of my ReStart™ anyway. If there was one constant thing throughout my life though, other than ReStart™, was that I was always dreaming of flying. I had the urge to feel the air surrounding me, to be as close to weightless as possible. To be able to be like a bird and swoop around the sky on a whim. But I ’ d avoided flying on an aircraft as much as possible. I had only done it a few dozen times in my ninety-year life to date. 
 
 So here I was. Seven kilometres above the earth ’ s surface staring out the window at the domain that would become my home for ten minutes. Vast, empty, air. The wingsuit that I was wearing suited me to a tee. It was made of a series of dark metallic scales with white and red ornate patterns over my back and running down my legs. The parachute on my back was not even as close to being as heavy as I thought. I had the impression that it would slow me down and make me sluggish. Not the case at all. 
 
 My stomach felt as if it was going to come out of my mouth. Reasonable thought had left my mind. What ’ s worse was that I knew it as well. I still hadn ’ t learned to control myself in the midst of my fears. I ’ d been meaning to put some effort into getting way more mental control for about a decade, but I ’ d never gotten around to it. With my new lifespan, being less than infinite, it was really something that I should go and do. 
 
 The instructor was in front of me giving me the last of the instructions. But it was like he wasn ’ t speaking English. I could barely hear him over the beating of my heart in my chest and just general lack of comprehension. And this was just from being on a plane. Let alone getting out of the aircraft. In what seemed life five seconds he pulled on the straps on my parachute, turned and opened the door and gestured for me to go to it. 
 
 Somehow I put one foot in front of the other and approached the door. It was sheer, stupid, stubbornness that kept me doing it. I peaked my head towards the opening and shuddered involuntarily. 
 
 It occurred to me that these may be the last moments of my life if something went wrong. I have no idea if I ’ m still eligible for a ReStart™ or not, or whether the clock has ticked by and I ’ m now on borrowed time. I also didn ’ t know if I was a copy in a long line of copies of myself at my ReBase™ or if I was my actual self who had managed to cheat death for seventy odd years. In the end I was my choices. I could choose to be afraid of this situation and what I was about to do. Or I could choose to not be afraid. It was all a series of choices after all. And what would it make me if I chose to be afraid and chose to jump out anyway. Wouldn ’ t that be better? It was time for me to start living, even if these may be the last moments of my life. So I jumped. 

