ulging disks, fragile bones, fractured hips, torn ligaments, varicose veins, cataracts, hearing loss, hernias and hemorrhoids: the list of bodily malfunctions that plague us as we age is long and all too familiar. Why do we fall apart just as we reach what should be the prime of life?

The living machines we call our bodies deteriorate because they were not designed for extended operation and because we now push them to function long past their warranty period. The human body is artistically beautiful and worthy of all the wonder and amazement it evokes. But from an engineer's perspective, it is a complex network of bones, muscles, tendons, valves and joints that are directly analogous to the fallible pulleys, pumps, levers and hinges in machines. As we plunge further into our postreproductive years, our joints and other anatomical features that serve us well or cause no problems at younger ages reveal their imperfections. They wear out or otherwise contribute to the health problems that become common in the later years.

In evolutionary terms, we harbor flaws because natural selection, the force that molds our genetically controlled traits, does not aim for perfection or endless good health. If a body plan allows individuals to survive long enough to reproduce (and, in humans and various other organisms, to raise their young), then that plan will be selected. That is, individuals robust enough to reproduce will pass their genes—and therefore their body design—to the next generation. Designs that seriously hamper survival in youth will be weeded out (selected against) because most affected individuals will die before having a chance to produce offspring. More important, anatomical and physiological quirks that become disabling only after someone has reproduced will spread. For example, if a body plan leads to total collapse at age 50 but does not interfere with earlier reproduction, the arrangement will get passed

We would look a lot different if evolution had designed the human body to function smoothly for a century or more along despite the harmful consequences late in life.

Had we been crafted for extended operation, we would have fewer flaws capable of making us miserable in our later days. Evolution does not work that way, however. Instead it cobbles together new features by tinkering with existing ones in a way that would have made Rube Goldberg proud.

The upright posture of humans is a case in point. It was adapted from a body plan that had mammals walking on all fours. This tinkering undoubtedly aided our early hominid ancestors: standing on our own two feet is thought to have promoted everything from food gathering and tool use to enhanced intelligence. Our backbone has since adapted somewhat to the awkward change: the lower vertebrae have grown bigger to cope with the increased vertical pressure, and our spine has curved a bit to keep us from toppling over. Yet these fixes do not ward off an array of problems that arise from our bipedal stance.

What If?

RECENTLY the three of us began pondering what the human body would look like had it been constructed specifically for a healthy long life. The anatomical revisions depicted on the following pages are fanciful and incomplete. Nevertheless, we present them to draw attention to a serious point. Aging is frequently described as a disease that can be reversed or eliminated. Indeed, many purveyors of youth-in-a-bottle would have us believe that the medical problems associated with aging are our own fault, arising primarily from our decadent lifestyles. Certainly any fool can shorten his or her life. But it is grossly unfair to blame people for the health consequences of inheriting a body that lacks perfect maintenance and repair systems and was not built for extended use or perpetual health. Our bodies would still wear out over time even if some mythical, ideal lifestyle could be identified and adopted.

This reality means that aging and many of its accom-

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