Over lunch, my beloved told me about a rich American woman who had recently died at the age of one-hundred and seven. The last thirty years or so she spent in a hospital, which she apparently used as a refuge. The article my beloved read was about the confusion after the woman’s death, as she had no heirs. Quite substantial, her wealth was up in the air. The story fascinated me at once as an example of the futility of progress, which is often connected to longevity. Progress lengthens life, that is. Of course, wealth has always lengthened life, but science and technology lengthen it in their own right. The only trouble is that the years gained are often utterly useless, as exemplified by the rich woman’s lengthy stay in hospital. Intrigued, I searched the World Wide Web. As it turned out, many rich people had recently died at the age of one-hundred and seven. And most of them were filthy rich, too. Which is why I abandoned the search rather quickly. The futility of progress is obvious enough already.