Last Friday a colleague of mine had a heart-attack. He is in early forties and had no pre-existing conditions. Luckily for him, he survived the incident after a quick surgery. I’ve had relatives back in my home country who passed away in an untimely manner. But never before have I been in a situation where I was close enough to the victim to notice his absence.
Today as I stared at his empty cubicle, a sense of irony grasped me. My colleague used work on Turbine Monitoring and Diagnostics. What that means in plain English is that he analyzes data gathered from hundreds of sensors on a turbine and uses it to predict failures ahead of time and allow engineers to carry out preventive maintenance. Day in, day out he kept working, pulling out fancy algorithms out of a hat to keep a machine chugging along in some remote Arabian desert. All of this work, just so that some billion dollar oil company won’t have to see a dent in their obscene profits.
We spend our whole lives perfecting machines while our arteries get clogged and bones become brittle. We manage to find 8 hours in a day to serve our metal overlords, but not 30 minutes to take care of our own health. What sense is there to trade human life to give immortality to a machine?