Have you ever thought about what makes you you? Science assures us it has everything to do with the three-pound organ between our ears, with its billions of neurons and trillions of delicate connections. But it’s a lot trickier to explain why we have a sense of self-awareness or to pin down precisely where that first memory of Mommy actually resides. As we age, we forget most of what we’ve experienced, yet there’s still undeniable continuity: At 30, or 50, or 70, you will still be you.

To preserve that elusive continuity of self, some far-thinking technologists are working on ways to keep your brain going—even beyond death. Let’s call them the “mind savers.” They’re exploring everything from freezing brains in liquid nitrogen to augmenting living ones to uploading our memories to the cloud. Here, we look at six possible paths for keeping your mind going, how feasible they’d be, and what benefits the ­present-day research might bring—even if cognitive immortality doesn’t pan out.

Head transplant

White’s experiments have been a source of grim fascination ever since. But to a few neuroscientists they’re inspiration, suggesting that one day a human head transplant—or, as some call it, a body transplant—could succeed. 

The idea’s main proponent is Sergio Canavero, a controversial Italian surgeon who, 10 years ago, even claimed he’d found a volunteer in Valery Spiridinov, a computer programmer suffering from a degenerative muscle disease. Spiridinov initially agreed to have his head transferred to the body of a brain-dead donor in China, but he later bowed out of the plan and instead got married. And that might be just as well. Critics say the procedure would be more like murder than medicine. Or, best-case scenario: Volunteers would be left paralyzed and in need of a ventilator for life. 

Canavero says that’s not necessarily true. He claims people’s views on the operation will change once they accept that reconnecting severed spinal cords is already possible. He pointed MIT Technology Review to a research article from this past summer that he coauthored with surgeons at Moscow’s Sklifosovsky Research and Clinical Institute for Emergency Medicine. The team cut through the spinal cords of three pigs at a point midway along their backs and then tested whether the severed nerve bodies could be fused back together using a surgical sealant. According to that paper, which appeared in the journal PLOS One, all the pigs regained the ability to stand and even walk unsteadily.

Does that mean a head could be attached to a new body and then actually control it? Mainstream researchers aren’t convinced. Grégoire Courtine, a spinal rehabilitation specialist at the École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne in Switzerland, says he’s been following Canavero’s claims “with little respect” and thinks that we should “pay zero attention.”

“There is no technology … capable of such a crazy idea,” Courtine wrote in an email.

Mindclones

Just 12 years after the book came out, artificial-intelligence technology has already brought some of her predictions to “life,” so to speak. Services such as StoryFile, Afterlife AI, and Synthesia allow users to upload their personal information and likeness in order to produce either conversational bots that share their memories or video talking heads that sound (and look) exactly like them. Influencers now let their “AI clones” do their work on TikTok, and some people are even building avatars of their aging parents in order to preserve their personalities.

While this mimicry can produce comical results, unhealthy attachments, or uncanny vibes, the increasing realism of generative AI invites people to emotionally accept the avatars as real beings. That was the case when Rothblatt appeared as a digital avatar during a 2025 event held by the UCLA Department of Communication called “The Bridge to Humanizing AI.”

Her copy, named Marvatar, was projected on a screen, led the discussions, and talked with the meatspace Rothblatt as an equal, at one point saying, “The dance isn’t about who leads, but how we move together.” According to the university, attendees were “visibly moved” and wept “with wonder” at Rothblatt’s vision of digital equality.

What’s still missing from Rothblatt’s mindclone prediction is evidence that these avatars have—or ever will have—any kind of true self-awareness. (We asked ChatGPT if it’s conscious, and it answered, “Probably not.”) But all that remains a gray zone. Neuroscientists don’t have a clear definition of consciousness, much less a diagnostic test they could apply to an avatar. 

Instead, what if the final determination is in the eye of the beholder? Your digital clone might not be you. But at some point it might be good enough for me. 

Brain in a jar

So, campy sci-fi film lovers that we are, it got our attention last year when a company called Bexorg started showing journalists actual human brains in vats, which it has been acquiring from organ donors soon after death and then “rebooting” by infusing them with oxygen-rich artificial blood.

The company claims these “physiologically intact human brains” will be more useful than animals for drug testing and safer than trying experiments on living volunteers. Add an Alzheimer’s compound to one of these disembodied brains and researchers can then measure exactly what the drug does inside the organ.

Bexorg’s CEO, Zvonimir Vrselja, is “sure” that some people would like to restore consciousness to out-of-body brains, but he’s tried to douse such speculation. While they are metabolically active, the company says, the brains have lost all coordinated electrical activity. That means they aren’t conscious—although, just to make sure, the neuroscientists running the experiments add the strong anesthetic propofol to the tissues. 

What’s more, right now a brain can be kept “alive” outside the body for only about 24 hours. That wouldn’t be much of a second life. Still, efforts are underway to improve the life-support systems. Bexorg says it hopes to eventually keep its brains going for two weeks.

Gradual brain replacement

On paper, the goal is to manufacture tissue to graft into the brains of stroke victims, reversing damage and restoring function. Less officially, the project’s existence is a surprise coup for an extreme plan to defeat aging advanced by Jean Hébert, the neuroscientist leading the program, who argued in his 2020 book, Replacing Aging, that we can live longer by replacing our aging brain cells with young ones.

We don’t want to lose our identities. That’s why—according to Hébert—it would have to happen gradually, in small chunks, so our brains would have time to adapt to the new tissue.

Scientists who applied for the program say Hébert insisted on a very specific technological approach. While most researchers engineer individual cell types, ARPA-H asked for complex chunks of young, functional cortex—more or less like what you’d find in a developing fetus. “He wanted to create essentially an embryonic form of cortex that he thought you could somehow graft into an adult brain,” says Marius Wernig, a Stanford University stem-cell researcher who applied.

Skeptics say it’s unknown whether replacement brain chunks will ever properly function as part of your brain—say, by taking over memories. What’s more, it’s still unclear how to manufacture youthful cortex, or what ARPA-H calls “neocortical precursor tissue,” in the lab. One idea is to employ the latest advances in brain organoids. Imagine, if you will, a human cortex grown in a lab dish without a body. 

We know that the agency has an aggressive timeline: Over the course of five years, it wants researchers to lay the foundation for the first human tests of replacement cortex. The aim, it says, is to “take the ‘permanent’ out of brain damage.” And maybe out of old age, too. 

Brain upload

Scientists are already mapping this wiring in simpler animals. Two years ago, Seung took part in analyzing a fly brain that had been cut into paper-thin sheets and imaged with an electron microscope. Then he and his colleagues used image-analysis software to trace 139,255 neurons and about 55 million synapses. The fly map could lead to energy-efficient software that computes the way real brains do, Seung says. 

 Others believe the ultimate outcome of “connectomics” research  will be what’s called “whole-brain emulation,” or sometimes just “uploading.” It’s the idea, popular in some quarters of Silicon Valley, that a simulation created from a sliced-up brain could become so detailed that it would reproduce not only a generic intelligence but a particular one, like yours—complete with memories and opinions, and able to live again in a data server somewhere. 

Setting aside the question of whether a simulation would really be you, everyone agrees that this technology isn’t coming in time for those of us alive today. A survey of 312 neuroscientists, published in 2025 in PLOS One, estimated that human whole-brain emulation wouldn’t happen before 2125.

That long and unpredictable tech horizon helps explain why two US companies, Nectome and Sparks Brain Preservation, are offering to preserve human brains (or bodies) today by infusing them with the same potent chemicals used to “fix” the brains of fruit flies for connectome mapping. The idea: If the fine details of a brain’s structure can be preserved, one day in the far future it might be reanimated. 

But there’s a startling twist. Because brain tissue needs to be preserved quickly after a person’s death, both companies say they want to work with people taking advantage of medical aid in dying, now legal in 13 states and Washington, DC. In that procedure, doctors supply a lethal dose of drugs, but it’s the patient—someone with a terminal prognosis—who pushes the plunger. For a fee, the companies say, they can have a preservation team at the ready. So far, the service is not popular. The companies each say they are still awaiting their first aid-in-dying customer. 

Synthetic neocortex

That’s right: an extra brain.

Recently, we’ve seen inklings of how this might come to pass. In 2024, Science Corporation, in California, unveiled a “biohybrid” brain-computer interface featuring nerve cells grown on a digital chip. Placed on an animal’s brain, these cells sent out long, thin axons that integrated with the animal’s own neurons. The result: two-way communication from computer to brain, in the brain’s language.

The technology could permit new types of medicine, like an implant that directs brain cells to produce dopamine and thereby treat Parkinson’s. But Max Hodak, the company’s CEO, says it also might count as a new brain part, which he likens to a “big, externalized cranial nerve.” 

Such a device could serve as the connector to Kurzweil’s computerized neocortex in the cloud, giving a living person unlimited extra processing power. Still other entrepreneurs believe if you kept adding biohybrid components to a brain, eventually you could morph it into an immortal machine. 

Daniel Burger, founder of the venture-­funded stealth startup Eightsix Science (its name refers to the 86 billion neurons in a human brain), says this dream could require mixing several of the brain-saving techniques on this list. He thinks we might need brains in vats, affording neuro-­engineers easy access, so they can gradually replace brain parts with biohybrid neural grafts. 

The ultimate goal is to migrate your mind into your extra, engineered brain, without ever breaking the continuity of self. “It’s not the typical ‘scan, store, simulate,’” says Burger. “I don’t think simulations will be conscious.” He adds, “We’re saying it’s going to be way more complicated, and it’s probably going to look like gradual brain replacement into a hardware brain.”

Once your mind is hardware, you won’t need a biological body. Instead, you could take up residence in a data center somewhere and perhaps even have backups distributed around the globe. “From that point on,” Burger acknowledges, “stuff becomes really crazy.”

Popular weight-loss drugs may do more than help people shed pounds. They might also melt away the years.

Drug giants Eli Lilly and Novo Nordisk say patients taking their drugs age less quickly, according to readouts from molecular “aging clocks.”

Such clocks assess a person’s biological age by looking at changes to DNA that accumulate with time, or, in newer versions, by tracking levels of key proteins.

Both companies found that overweight or diabetic patients taking the drugs, called GLP-1s, had reduced biological age compared to those taking a placebo, although the difference varied widely, depending on which type of clock was used, and what organ was tested. 

Overall, the difference was around “two to three years,” according to Nikolaj Roed, a global project leader at Novo, who says the company has been seeing “improved biological age in our patients across trials and across different tissues.” 

The findings add to wide speculation among scientists that GLP-1 drugs, as they are known, are acting on basic causes of aging and might be a true longevity treatment.

“Two years is a pretty strong effect, in my book,” says Steve Horvath, a professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, who’s credited with inventing aging clocks. Horvath says the emerging data could provide “evidence that these GLP-1 drugs are actually what is known as geroprotectors, medications that slow or possibly even reverse biologic aging.”

The companies shared their findings over the weekend during Aging Research & Drug Discovery, a conference devoted to seeking scientific remedies for old age. While that quest has not yet produced any clear-cut success, some scientists now think Novo’s drug semaglutide (sold under the names Ozempic and Wegovy) is coming close.

“In an unhealthy population, I do think it’s an anti-aging drug,” says Vadim Gladyshev, a Harvard biologist who assisted Novo with its molecular measurements. “But in a healthy population, no one knows.”

The drugs cause weight loss by stimulating a receptor, GLP-1, that tells your brain you’re not hungry. Yet real-world studies have shown much wider benefit. The drugs improve kidney function, reduce blood pressure, and even sharply cut the overall chance of death.

“If the question is,‘Can semaglutide reach several diseases relevant to health span and aging?’ we know we can say the answer is yes,” said Alejandro Aguayo-Orozco, a senior scientific director at Novo, the Danish drug giant, during the meeting.

The next question to answer, he said, is whether such effects are accompanied by changes to molecular measures of biological aging: “When you intervene with semaglutide, does it actually move the clocks in any direction? And the answer is yes.” 

The company found that, over time, the drugs cause a wide slowdown in aging clocks—as much as 4 years in the case of a clock that looks at heart proteins. “I think it’s pretty clear that the organ age is shifting,” said Aguayo-Orozco.

The studies are also a huge boost for the science of aging clocks. Although these measures reflect a person’s age, it’s been uncertain if they are useful as true biomarkers. Now clock makers have evidence  that their readouts show a drop in age when people take drugs with broad, well-demonstrated benefits.  

“The clock people have been pushing for a decade to get this kind of study done,” says Yuge Ji, a biologist who previously worked in the field and now runs a startup, Reflector Bio. “It’s huge for them.”

As part of its study, Novo took blood draws from 10,052 people, half on the drug and half on a placebo. Their blood, collected at the start of the study as well as months later, was then measured with “proteomic clocks,” which use levels of key proteins to predict a person’s age and risk of dying. 

Scientists at Eli Lilly performed similar research on their GLP-1 drug, tirzepatide, using so-called “epigenetic” clocks that assess age by counting accumulated changes to DNA. Lilly’s study was smaller, but also found that for the most part, molecular time moved more slowly for people on the drug.  

“All the clocks are telling a consistent story that we’re seeing a reduction in age,” Kevin Duffin, vice president for aging research at Lilly, said during the conference. “It’s not like we’re going to reverse age by 30 years or something, but it’s a significant reduction.”

The molecules have become the best selling drugs in the world,, with Lilly’s tirzepatide, sold as Mounjaro for diabetes and Zepbound for obesity, topping the list with more than $36 billion in revenue to the company last year. Novo’s semaglutide, also sold under more than one name, was a close second.

Alex Zhavoronkov, the founder of Insilico Medicine, and the organizer of the Boston meeting, says that extending lives by even one year across the world’s population would be equal to tens of millions of lifetimes.  

Last month Zhavoronkov showed that one of his company’s drugs, for a lung disease, also reversed the signals from aging clocks. That drug is experimental, but Zhavoronkov has sought to promote the idea that humanity is entering a new era of longevity medicines. He also disclosed during the event that he has been “microdosing” the available weight-loss drugs, even though he is not overweight.

“I am on tirzepatide and I am an equal-opportunity injector of semaglutide as well,” Zhavoronkov said.

It was part of an effort to directly raise the question of whether the first mass-market anti-aging remedy is already here.

“Do you think a reasonable person should start taking semaglutide?” he asked Aguayo-Orozco, the Novo scientist, in front of a crowded audience.

“I am not a physician. I cannot answer that question,” Aguayo-Orozco replied.

Several people cautioned that GLP-1 drugs do have side effects, including muscle loss. That is one reason they might not help most people, says Horvath, who says he isn’t ready to take the drugs himself, although he’s thought about it.

“Clearly, the drugs have many benefits in obese people, but I did not yet see sufficient evidence that they will benefit skinny people,” he said. “I guess we will have to wait.”

Answers could start to emerge in a year or two. This past January, a US agency, ARPA-H, put $38 million toward a study in Texas that will attempt to determine whether semaglutide has anti-aging effects in healthy people over 60. That research will look at changes in cognition, mobility, and acuity of the senses.

That project also seeks to help define a regulatory pathway for anti-aging drugs and to “build a new therapeutic industry” around longevity.

Multiple cameras tracked a mouse as it wandered around a small arena. A computer charted its position and speed, leaving Pong-like traces on a monitor. 

The reason to watch this rodent so carefully? Nearly half its brain volume had been replaced with human cells.

The effort to mix the brain tissues of distant species is being reported today in the journal Nature by a team at Stanford University, led by neuroscientist Sergiu Pașca. 

Pașca’s group previously showed that human brain “organoids”—small blobs of neural tissue—could survive, and even function, after being injected into the heads of baby rodents.

Now, Pașca has taken things a step further by genetically modifying mice so their brains don’t fully develop in the first place. These modified mice are missing most cells of both the cortex and the hippocampus, two key brain areas.

That creates much more room for the human cells to take hold, he says. “Human cells that are placed in these animals will divide, will grow, and within a few weeks to a few months they will take most of that space,” he says. Pașca says one surprising discovery is that the mice lacking brain tissue seemed fairly normal—they walked around and squeaked. But they did have memory problems. In a maze test, they couldn’t remember what parts they’d explored. 

The mice with the added human cells, by contrast, performed better on the maze test. That means the human tissue is playing some role in the animals’ cognition.

Pașca believes what he is calling “xenocortical mice” could be useful in studying brain injuries. However, the report is also a dramatic demonstration of “the combined power of genetic engineering and stem-cell technology to reshape biology,” says Carsten Charlesworth, a scientist who works in a different Stanford lab and was not involved in the research.

Already, brain organoids are being tested in labs to see if they can be connected to computers to play video games. Other scientists have proposed using them like replacement parts to treat stroke victims. 

“What’s most remarkable to me is the extent to which human neural tissue introduced after birth grew and connected with the mouse nervous system across a species barrier,” says Charlesworth. “As these technologies advance, they’ll increasingly force us to challenge our traditional assumptions.”

Last year, Pașca convened a group of ethics experts to study the implications of neural organoid technology, including the odds that an animal could develop human consciousness and the risk that “organoid therapy clinics” might offer scam treatments to desperate patients.

For now, he says, he’s not concerned that the rodents have any type of human cognitive capacities. That is because their brains are relatively tiny and the evolutionary distance between man and mouse is so great. 

But that’s also why Pașca says this type of experiment should not be carried out on higher species: They could end up with large volumes of functioning human brain tissue, potentially blurring the cognitive boundaries between people and animals. 

Pașca specifically cautioned against adding human brain organoids to a monkey engineered to lack a cortex.

“One of the things that I see as a very clear red line is doing this experiment in a primate,” he says. “I don’t think that is justified at this point in any way.”

Last year Ruxandra Teslo, a policy analyst who focuses on clinical trials, posted an idea for supercharging medical AI systems: Use data from failed biotech companies.

By bidding at their bankruptcy proceedings, she proposed, it might be possible to obtain detailed regulatory filings, manufacturing strategies, and safety data—types of information usually considered trade secrets. She called these documents “biotech’s lost archive” and said they could be used to help train AIs that would act as powerful copilots in the often opaque drug approval process. 

Today the OpenAI Foundation, the nonprofit parent of OpenAI, said it would fund her idea as part of a new effort it calls Public Data for Health, which aims to help artificial intelligence make big leaps in medicine by paying to create “high-quality scientific datasets.”

The basic idea is that AI isn’t going to be capable of making important breakthroughs in curing disease unless researchers can feed the models much more information than they have so far. 

“Everyone is recognizing that data is the biggest bottleneck in successfully applying AI to biology,” says Morgan Levine, a former vice president for computation at Altos Labs, a longevity company.

In its initial round of data grants, the OpenAI Foundation also announced that it would give $40 million to a program to collect data about novel cancer vaccines at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, and support OpenAdmet, a group that runs competitions in which researchers try to predict drug effects. 

Teslo’s idea for a biotech archive received $500,000 and will be pursued by 1Day Sooner, an advocacy group representing clinical trial volunteers, which she advises.

“We expect many remaining breakthroughs in preventing and curing disease to come from pairing the intelligence of new models with more observations of the world—in other words, more data,” the OpenAI Foundation said in a statement.

OpenAI started as a nonprofit, but leader Sam Altman restructured it to form a for-profit corporation that develops new models, launches products, and is now planning an initial public offering of stock that could value it at $1 trillion.

Because the foundation holds a 26% equity stake in OpenAI, it is now be on track to become the richest charitable organization on the planet, potentially sitting on $250 billion in stock value. (By comparison, the Gates Foundation and a trust associated with it held about $180 billion at the end of 2025.)  

Making good use of that kind of money will not be easy. The foundation, based in San Francisco, is still hiring for many key roles and started ramping up its grantmaking only this year. Its largest single gift so far, of $100 million, was awarded in August to the Common Health Coalition, an organization that helps patients get access to drugs for hepatitis C.

OpenAI’s charitable efforts come even as apocalyptic fears have broken out about the possibility that runaway AI could wipe out all human life, possibly by launching a deadly bioweapon.

Those fears have been stoked by AI company insiders, some of whom say the chance of human extinction within the next decade is 10% or more. Last week, Altman and xAI founder Elon Musk both endorsed a call by Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei to “slow the pace at which we improve the capabilities of AI models” so that risk prevention can catch up.

Jacob Trefethen, an executive at the foundation, says it essentially operates separately from OpenAI but shares an official mission of ensuring that artificial intelligence “benefits all of humanity.”

“We’re starting grantmaking when we think the best way to achieve that mission is to make grants to external nonprofits, research institutions, and other third parties,” Trefethen said in an interview. He says the foundation hopes to give away $1 billion by the end of the year. 

The $500,000 grant to 1Day Sooner will help the group prove it can obtain the data troves of bankrupt companies, says the organization’s president and cofounder, Josh Morrison. He thinks nonexclusive copies of company datasets could be acquired for only “a few tens of thousands of dollars” each.

His organization is currently in possession of three datasets, two of them donated by Lumen Bioscience, a biotech that previously used the Chapter 11 strategy to gain insights into another company’s drug development efforts. 

Morrison says two other attempts to obtain drug company files this year proved unsuccessful, after 1Day Sooner’s bids were not accepted. 

Bankruptcies could become what some are calling a “new land grab” for AI training. Last month, Google won a bid to take over the corporate data of the failed carrier Spirit Airlines, including 100 million emails. That led to objections from flight attendants and others who worried that private or proprietary data could be exposed. 

The drug company files that 1Day Sooner is seeking are known as common technical documents. They typically contain the back-and-forth between companies and regulators, as well as detailed scientific and medical measurements, and essentially provide everything that is known about a drug.

According to Teslo, who is a writer for Works In Progress and a nonresident fellow at the Institute for Progress, a think tank in Washington, DC, a stockpile of such files could help turn an AI into a regulatory expert, which in her view could be one of the main ways AI helps speed cures to market.

“People say ‘We will invent AI, and AI will cure cancer,’ but that’s very removed from the messy reality and the regulatory process,” she says. “About 70% of the money and time in drug development is spent in clinical development—organizing the trials and testing the drug—but despite that, the process is basically a black box, especially for small biotech companies generating the innovations.” 

Yuancheng (Ryan) Lu is obsessed with aging. And with eyes. As he steps outside the Whitehead Institute in Cambridge, Massachusetts, his aviator glasses darken automatically in the sun. Age-related blindness runs in his family. A great-aunt in China, the story goes, was killed crossing a road because she couldn’t see oncoming traffic. And Lu’s own 23andMe test came back with a mutation for macular degeneration, a top cause of vision loss in old age. Exposure to bright sunlight is another risk factor—thus the shades. “They protect me,” he says. “Plus, they look cool.”

Lu, 34, works on gene therapies to prevent age-related vision loss. “I think the eye is a really unique system to study aging and rejuvenation,” he says. “I could give a whole presentation.” Pushing up my reading glasses, I lean in to listen.

Lu is behind one of the coolest results in rejuvenation science—and in eye research. In 2018, while earning his PhD at Harvard Medical School, he used an age-reversal technique called reprogramming to repair the optic nerves of mice. He crushed the nerves, blinding the animals, and then injected the cells with a gene therapy meant to restore them to a youthful state. Sixteen days later, the nerves were growing back, their axons showing up through a microscope as spidery orange filaments.

As hype around age reversal swirls, Lu has been busy in the lab searching for what he calls “the next generation of rejuvenation therapies.”

The head of that lab, the longevity scientist David Sinclair, remembers when Lu texted him the pictures: “He asked me, ‘What do you see here?’ And I said, ‘I see the future.’” Later tests carried out in a box with rotating bars of light showed the mice were tracking the changes. They could see again.

This year, nearly the exact genetic therapy Lu created for mice entered human clinical trials. On June 9, the startup Life Biosciences, which Sinclair cofounded and in which Lu owns a small stake, announced it had injected the treatment into the eye of a person with glaucoma. The trial has been big news. A headline in the New York Times suggested the technology could “change humanity.” Posters on X gushed, with one declaring that “the fountain of youth is here.”

“It’s remarkable that what he developed as a student is now going into humans,” says Sinclair of the treatment, now called ER-100. “It’s barely even changed since he built it.”

Reprogramming refers to an age-­restoring process that takes place inside an embryo. It’s why babies are born young, not old: The DNA they’ve inherited from their parents has been scrubbed and reset. In 2006, Japanese researchers showed they could cause the process to occur in the lab by introducing just four key genes, known by the acronym OSKM. Add these to a cell from a 100-year-old and it will turn into a stem cell that acts as if it was plucked from an embryo.

That’s powerful stuff. But we don’t want to turn people into blobs of stem-cell protoplasm. Lu figured out a way to control the effect. He trimmed the list of genes to just OSK—leaving out M, for Myc, the one most likely to cause dangerous changes like cancer. His extra flash of insight was that reprogramming could be tested on the optic nerve; the eye is particularly accessible.

Lu’s result, published in Nature in 2020, helped set off an investment rush. Since then, US tech billionaires have placed huge bets on private companies like Altos Labs and NewLimit to explore reprogramming and anti-aging medicine. The day I spoke with Lu, he’d spent the morning meeting with the business magnate Zhong Shanshan, one of China’s richest people.  

Still, as hype around age reversal swirls, Lu has been notably absent from the public conversation. He’s been busy in the lab searching for what he calls “the next generation of rejuvenation therapies.” With a sigh, Lu describes the grueling effort over the last six years to understand what OSK really does. The treatment remains toxic to many cell types, and he says it’s becoming obvious that different factors drive aging in each kind. This year, for example, he identified a gene responsible for protecting the retina from damage by free radicals—the main cause of age-­related macular degeneration.

While Sinclair, his former boss, believes humans could live to be 200, Lu disagrees. There’s just too much that goes wrong as we age. His work with OSK, he says, was more a proof of concept than a silver bullet. But it did change the conversation. “Six years ago, you couldn’t talk about rejuvenation. We didn’t use that word—there was pushback,” Lu tells me. “But I think people have accepted the concept that you can really reverse molecular age.” 

I knew I’d officially become a “longevity influencer” this month when a company called Generation Lab reached out to offer me the chance to write about—and even receive—their new rejuvenation treatment, an injectable combination of two existing drugs which they call 1 Generation.

This wasn’t just any antiaging treatment, either. A company fact sheet says that it “blocks the systemic spread of aging in the bloodstream, reawakens the body’s own repair mechanism and restores health and youth to multiple tissues.”

The exclusive offer to join a “private cohort” receiving access to the treatment was being “extended to a limited number of people whose judgment on the science we trust, under close physician supervision.”

“There’s a long wait list including a lot of celebrities, well-known people, people who you have heard of,” Generation Lab’s CEO Alina Su told me in a conference call. “So we’re super excited to, like, create this drug and [are] letting you know that this first longevity therapeutic in [the] human body is here and it’s actually working.”

This was all clearly a marketing campaign and, like most other claims in the world of longevity medicine, probably too good to be true. What’s more, Generation Lab wouldn’t tell me what the two drugs are, making the proposition hard to take seriously.

Yet this pitch got my interest. The reason? I am a longtime follower of Generation Lab’s irascible scientific founder, Irina Conboy, a take-no-guff specialist in the bizarre, but scientifically fruitful, practice of joining together the circulatory systems of old and young lab animals.

The procedure, called parabiosis, or heterochronic blood exchange, is one of the few things actually proven to make an old animal act younger. 

But you can’t go through life attached by the veins to a younger person. So the quest has been to find practical ways to mimic those benefits. 

And that is something Conboy says she’s now achieved by hitting on a combination of two existing drugs that produce youthful effects—but without the need for any bodily fluid exchange. 

Over the last two months, Conboy has been taking the drug combination and feeling quite a bit better and more energetic, she says. So have a handful of other insiders, including Su, the company’s 26-year-old CEO, as well as Conboy’s husband and scientific collaborator Michael Conboy.

The company’s public relations staffer sent me a spreadsheet of the supposed benefits experienced by the participants, including improved vision in a 64-year-old female, longer landscaping sessions for a 59-year-old man, longer badminton games, improved hand grip, better erections than with Viagra, as well as “increased bowel movements.”

Obviously, any age-reversal drug that works would be the best-selling product of all time. The problem is that none have ever been shown to do that. And Generation’s approach to evidence raises several red flags. For instance, Su says the company now plans to launch a larger study, involving a hundred or more people. However, others are being offered the drug before firm evidence of a benefit is in.

In addition, the trial will be led by longevity doctors who practice alternative medicine. These include Matt Cook, founder of a network of clinics called BioReset Medical. Cook’s clinics offer what I would characterize as unproven treatments, such as stem-cell injections. A 2021 article reported he’d recommended covid-19 treatments designated as “fraudulent” by the FDA. Those included inhaling amniotic fluid from a nebulizer.

In a phone call, Cook says he initially agreed to prescribe the combination to Conboy and a few other insiders. (Everyone involved, he says, is a member of the same “happening” Silicon Valley scene around life extension.) “My confidence this was going to work was a zero. Like, I did not believe it was actually going to work,” says Cook. That is because “it’s two safe, generic drugs that are not even longevity drugs.”  

But Cook, who also took the combination, says there was an effect. “And I have to tell you, it was the most surprising thing that ever happened to me,” he says. After taking the weekly injections, he experienced a sense of mental clarity that lasted for a day, and then several days. The other subjects, he says, reported a sense of well-being, as well as old aches and pains that evaporated. 

“There was a fairly significant broad set of symptoms that doesn’t really match what either of the drugs do,” he says. “So it’s interesting. [But] I have many more questions than I have answers … I still feel like I don’t understand exactly what the mechanism is.”

Prior to joining Generation Lab full time in 2025, Irina Conboy had a long career at the University of California, Berkeley, where she made her name via a widely cited series of experiments aimed at learning   whether the characteristics of age, or youth, could be transferred between animals via the bloodstream. In 2005, for instance, she surgically connected two-month-old mice to very aged ones, finding that the old animals’ ability to heal from injury dramatically improved.

This suggested that young blood must contain specific, powerful molecular signals capable of restoring the regenerative capacity of an old animal. As researchers zeroed in on candidate signals, several startups, including Elevian, a Harvard spinout, and Alkahest, tied to Stanford University scientists, were able to raise millions to pursue treatments for stroke or Alzheimer’s. However, those efforts still have not hit commercial paydirt.

Although it’s clear that young blood is good for old mice, scientists also know the reverse is true: Even a single exchange of plasma from an aged mouse has powerful, negative effects on a younger animal. That means that in the battle of age versus youth, says Conboy, “old blood dominates.”  

Conboy next tried a new approach. Instead of giving old animals young blood, in 2020 she removed the plasma (the part of the blood without cells) of old animals and replaced it with a neutral mixture of albumin and salt water. This was like pressing the Delete key on the swarm of hormones, antibodies, and other molecules released by the aged body.

The reset had even stronger rejuvenating effects than sharing a young animal’s blood, and within two years, Conboy had tried it on human volunteers who agreed to have almost half their blood volume removed and thrown away.

Longevity clinics have been quick to follow Conboy’s research. Some began offering “therapeutic plasma exchange” as a wellness intervention, for prices of up to $10,000 a session. One doctor that offers it, Jeffrey Gladden, says that after seeing Conboy’s publications, he raced to California to meet her and to get the procedure himself.

By the end of 2025, Conboy had retired from Berkeley and joined her startup full time. Generation Lab has been selling an aging diagnostic test, but Conboy still wanted to find a drug that could mimic the benefits of plasma exchange. To do that, she started using a testing system she’d codeveloped, which allows researchers to bathe human cells kept in a microfluidic device with blood serum from old people.

The new device, described in a paper this year, allowed her to quickly test her intuitions about what drugs might work. “This is an awesome screen or experimental system which allows us then to ask a question: If tissue becomes old in the presence of old blood, which molecule or combination of molecules will prevent that and allow tissue to remain young, even when the circulatory milieu is old?”

She says 1 Generation works by stimulating cells to regenerate and, simultaneously, neutralizing the old-age factors in a person’s bloodstream. “It allows human cells to remain young even when they are in the presence of old people’s blood serum,” says Conboy.

Without knowing what the drugs are, I can’t give my own opinion about their promise. But some doctors working with Generation Lab expressed surprise that the combination would work. “I will say right now, candidly, it’s an unknown how it will play out. But there’s certainly a lot of enthusiasm based on the quality of her work in the past,” says Gladden, the longevity doctor, who says his Texas clinic will also be involved in the study. “I am skeptical and optimistic at the same time.”

Pressed on why the names of the drugs remain confidential, Su said it’s to avoid imitators. That’s important because Generation doesn’t own the molecules. Instead, it will seek to quickly run a clinical trial, taking advantage of an FDA process that gives companies a short period of exclusivity, perhaps three years, if they can show that a combination of existing drugs has a new use.

In the meantime, the company’s effort to generate buzz is having some success. Generation is hosting an August 28 invite-only event that will feature talks by George Church, the noted Harvard University synthetic biologist, as well as researchers from Anthropic, whose CEO, Dario Amodei, has been saying AI will cure all disease within a few years. In an email, Church says he was also offered a chance to take the drug combination.

“People are clamoring for it,” Cook, from BioReset Medical, told me. He says his office has started getting calls “from high-end doctors, venture capitalists, and people in this community who are kind of biohackers.”

“It’s high-level influencer-type people,” he adds.

As for me, no, I won’t be taking the drugs any time soon. Not until I know what they are.

Correction 8/27/2026: A previous version of this story incorrectly said patients would pay to join the larger trial of a proposed longevity drug. While patients can pay to get the drug from a doctor, the larger trial will be free to patients and sponsored by Generation Lab.