—Your point being?
—That I really don’t get what you’re clinging onto if this isn’t about eternal life. Your soul, if you had one, the part of you that can’t be summed up as a bunch of atoms, would have no physical presence, couldn’t hear, smell, touch, or see anything. It would be incapable of thinking. No thoughts whatsoever, no sense of self. It wouldn’t feel anything either. Your soul would be … a hole … emptiness. There’s nothing special about that.
—You will forgive me if I choose to believe … if I continue to believe I am more than the sum of my parts.
—But you are! So much more! Most things are. As Wittgenstein said, when you talk about a broom, you’re not making a statement about a stick and a brush. The universe is a marvelous place where just about everything is more than the sum of its parts. Take two hydrogens—they’re everywhere—add an oxygen, and BAM! Water! Is water just oxygen and hydrogen? I don’t think so. It’s water! Does it have a soul?
—Can we leave my spiritual self alone for a moment and talk about Dr. Franklin?
—We are. What are you made of?
— … Atoms.
—Good man. Atoms, which are made of particles, which are made of other stuff. Matter. You’re a very complex, awe-inspiring configuration of matter that is stable at room temperature.
—I do not mean to interrupt, but room temperature?
—More or less. The universe loves stability. That’s why you don’t fall apart into a quadrillion little parts or a puddle of goo. But you’re only stable at this temperature. Raise it or lower it by a hundred degrees and you start falling apart.
—Heartwarming.
—It should be. Let me ask you this: Do you think your atoms are any different from those that make up the chair you’re sitting on, the sun, or the kung pao chicken?
—Go on.
—Of course not. You got a lot of what you’re made of from the food you ate. You have banana matter in you. Do you think that if I took two hydrogen atoms from the salt shaker and switched them up with two of yours, you’d be any different?
—No. I do not believe it would alter my essence.
—What if I switched more than two? How about all of them? You see what I’m getting at. If I grab a bunch of matter, anywhere, and I organize it in exactly the same way, I get … you. You, my friend, are a very complex, awe-inspiring configuration of matter. What you’re made of isn’t really important. Everything in the universe is made of the same thing. You’re a configuration. Your essence, as you call it, is information. It doesn’t matter where the material comes from. Do you think it matters when it comes from?
—I suppose not.
—So, as I said, Dr. Franklin is Dr. Franklin. If she weren’t, then she would be something else.
—I must say, I find you particularly unhelpful today. I will do my best to replicate this conversation with her, but in all honesty, I would be astonished if Dr. Franklin found lasting comfort in atoms and banana matter.
—If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to her and I’ll tell her exactly what we did. If you want me to, that is.
—Why not tell me so that I can relay the information?
—You haven’t told her about me, have you?
—I have not.
—You should really talk to someone about your control issues.
—I have one question before we eat.
—I’m serious!
—So am I. I do have one question.
—You’re hopeless, completely and utterly hopeless … What do you wanna know?
—Why take her to Ireland, of all places?
—The device was nearby. As I said, it is designed to move things, and the closer you move them, the easier it is to control where they reappear. We didn’t want her to rematerialize in the middle of a lake or on a busy highway. This isn’t as easy at it seems.
—It seems many things: inconceivable, far-fetched. It does not seem easy.
—Then it’s just as hard as it seems. Maybe harder.
—I may regret asking, but how is what you did any different from traveling through time?
—You’re right. For her, it would have seemed instantaneous, so from her perspective, it isn’t different at all. From ours, well, I guess you could call this really, really slow time travel.
—I do not understand.