—Did I mention how much I like that suit? You look dashing today.
—Very well. I give up. I would, however, like to ask for your help on another matter, one I hope you will not be as reluctant to discuss. Dr. Franklin is deeply troubled. She is obsessed with the idea that she is not herself. As much as I would like to help her understand what happened to her, I cannot explain it, nor can I fathom what she is going through.
—What do you mean, not herself? Dr. Franklin is Dr. Franklin. If she weren’t, then she would be someone else.
—Is she a clone?
—A clone? Of course not! Does she look like a ten-year-old? She would have been an infant when you found her. Do you really think I would have abandoned a newborn child on the side of the road?
—I meant a fully grown clone.
—Oh, movie clones! We don’t do those. Clones are born. You can’t just bake a grown person.
—That would suggest she has somehow traveled through time. To me, that sounds equally implausible. Truth be told, I am at a loss for an explanation that does not fall into the science-fiction category.
—Time travel! Yes, I drove up to her in a Delorean and asked her if she’d like to take a ride at eighty-eight miles per hour.
—Mock me all you want but something happened to her. If you did not send her zipping through time, what did you do?
—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Besides, I’ve been told it is possible, you know, time travel. But you can’t move physical objects, you move information about objects, people, and you reconstruct them at a different time. We don’t have the technology to do the time part, we just took what she was and made her, again.
—Four years younger?
—Four years before she reappeared, she got into a car accident on her way home from work. She rear-ended a van. Inside that van was a very powerful device that can … move things. It records an enormous amount of data about what you want to move, enough to reconstruct it somewhere. While she was unconscious, associates of mine took her inside the van and scanned her. Only they didn’t move her, they stored her data in case anything was to happen to her, as it did. Like a backup, for your computer. Her backup was four years old when we used it, yes.
—Why were you following her?
—She rear-ended the van. So, technically, she was following us.
—Please answer my question.
—I told you! We wanted her data in case anything was to happen to her.
—But why her data and not—
—Yours? Maybe because she doesn’t ask so many questions. What can I tell you? We like her. She’s … special.
—So the person I met this morning is a copy.
—She is what she is. She’s the same person, no more, no less.
—You just told me you re-created her using … backup data. That would make her a copy.
—We should really end this discussion here, it’ll make you uncomfortable if we continue.
—I must confess, I am not entirely certain that I want to know more. I am, however, absolutely certain that Dr. Franklin needs to.
—Then down the rabbit hole we go. Universe 101. Everything in the universe, everything, is made from the same goo. Let’s take something you can think of as discrete so it’ll be easier for you to grasp. Atoms. Do you agree you’re made of atoms?
—I did go to high school.
—That’s not what I meant. Do you agree that you’re made of atoms, just atoms? Not atoms plus some fantastic force that makes you somehow more important than everything else in the universe.
—I understand that my body is made of atoms.
—No you don’t. People never do. I mean your memories about the neighbor’s cat, the way you like your eggs in the morning, the things you never told your parents, what makes you, you. What do you think you are made of?
—Does the answer start with an “A”?
—Don’t be a smart ass. I know you think you understand. I know you want to understand. The way you felt about your first love, the self-doubt you’re feeling right now. You know it can all be described physically, but deep down you refuse to believe that’s what you are because you don’t think that’s special enough, and you wanna be special. Everyone does. I do too!
—You are saying I do not have a soul.
—I don’t mean to be rude, but if there were a Heaven, I doubt they’d throw you a parade.
—You misunderstood; I am not a religious person. I do not believe I will exist forever, nor would I want to.
—Then I guess it depends on your definition of a soul. I can see you haven’t put much thought into this.
—What do you mean?
—Do you know what happens in your brain when you’re thinking?
—Neurons fire electrical impulses.
—Good. Every thought you have is a physical process. We know this for a fact, we can see it happening. We also know that emotions can be described in similar terms. Obviously, what you see, hear, touch, taste, smell is tied to your body.