Is Aging a PPDA-complete problem? That Means We’ll Never “Solve” Aging

The race to delay aging has become a global fascination. From scientists in academic labs to individuals tracking their biomarkers daily, the momentum around extending human life is accelerating. I’ve been drawn into it myself. My own initiation into the field came through David Sinclair’s book Lifespan, which left a lasting impression. Since then, I’ve become an active participant in the biohacking world: wearing a Whoop strap, subscribing to Novos supplements, optimizing daily habits with the belief that there’s real ground to be gained.

I even track quarterly my PhenoAge, being currently 10 years younger based on my blood bio-markers!

There’s an energy in the air that’s hard to ignore. Across podcasts, clinical studies, and community threads, you feel a sense of euphoria—an almost unshakable belief that aging isn’t just a problem to be slowed down, but one that might be conquered entirely. The excitement doesn’t stop at improving our healthspans. Many seem convinced that our lifespans will soon stretch into centuries, and that, perhaps within reach, is the ability to eliminate death itself.

This rising optimism stirred a deeper question in me: Is immortality truly something we can achieve? Not necessarily in our lifetime, but as a species? That question pulled me back to my roots. With a background in engineering, I’ve always viewed the world through the lens of systems—simple ones, complex ones, systems with feedback loops, noise, decay, stability, entropy. And it’s this systems-thinking habit that led me to an interesting parallel from the world of computer science and game theory.

Nash equilibrium might be the answer to immortality

A while back, I came across a story that stuck with me: a Greek mathematician, Constantinos Daskalakis, had solved a mathematical puzzle that had gone unsolved for more than sixty years. It revolved around the concept of Nash Equilibrium—an idea from game theory describing a stable state in which no participant can improve their position by changing their strategy unilaterally. The unsolved question was: Can we always find a fast and reliable algorithm to compute this equilibrium in every game, even the most complex ones?

The answer Daskalakis delivered was no. For many games, the system is too intricate. The interactions are too tangled. The computation required to find that stable point becomes so intensive that it borders on impossible. Not metaphorically impossible—mathematically impossible under the rules of what can be efficiently computed. There is no shortcut. No clever trick.

That result hit me hard. Because I couldn’t help but transpose the idea onto the human body. What if, in the language of game theory, the human body is a massively complex game? Each organ, cell, hormone, feedback mechanism—all operating like players trying to reach homeostasis. A Nash Equilibrium, in this framing, might look like a state of perfect, indefinite survival. Immortality.

And so the question becomes: is the body a system simple enough to ever find that equilibrium? My intuition says no. Not because we lack tools or data, but because the very structure of the problem may resist resolution. Just like Daskalakis showed us: for some systems, the equilibrium is mathematically out of reach.

This doesn’t mean we give up. There’s little doubt we’ll push the boundaries—extend life to 120, 150, maybe even 200 or 300 years. But if we ever do break past that into something truly indefinite, it may require a leap so profound that it steps outside the constraints of biology itself. Perhaps into a new substrate entirely.

For now, I’m still in the game. Taking supplements, tracking vitals, chasing healthspan. But I hold in the back of my mind a quiet recognition: some systems can’t be solved. Not all games have a stable point you can reach. And maybe—just maybe—aging is one of them.