I don't think people should obsess so much over the dying bit; who cares if you die? You're alive at the end of it, after all.
I don't think people should obsess so much over the dying bit; who cares if you die? You're alive at the end of it, after all.
the evidence seems to be rather absolute that in the Star Trek fictional universe(s), there is no such thing as a "soul"
Or did Riker's "soul" get split in half?![]()
If the technology existed today, I wouldn't hesitate. Unless the fatality rate is high, of course. Who cares if you're clinically dead? You could be clinically dead on the operating table, and if they didn't tell you, you'd be none the wiser. I don't care if I die, I don't care if they turn me into a lemon pie and I don't care if they duplicate me and integrate the duplicates -- so long as, when transport is finished, I'm at my destination and, as far as I can tell, see, think and feel the same as before.I don't think people should obsess so much over the dying bit; who cares if you die? You're alive at the end of it, after all.
But, are you...?
Link to articleThe transporter supposedly disintegrates you into energy, while passing that energy and a pattern/scan of how to put that energy back together as you to your destination. To me, this really isn't any different than burning me to a crisp, sweeping up the ashes and putting them into a paper bag, carrying the bag across the street and using the ashes as a template to build a new me.
That new me would think it was me, and would have all my memories if you could reproduce the last extant state of my brain exactly, but it wouldn't be me. I was burned to death and died.... But just mapping the physical state of your brain and making a computer copy of it doesn't seem any more "me" to me than a photocopy of my ass is my ass. It's more of a clone or identical twin consciousness than my own consciousness transfered to a machine.
The duplicate example proves the point - if the original is killed, then who cares how many duplicates are created? None of them are the original, so they can go piss off. The only way duplicates are a problem is if the original isn't killed, if the person who comes out at the end is the same as the person who went in, only then is two people coming out a problem.I have to use the duplicate example to get the point across. Yes, to an external observer, the person coming out of the other end is indistinguishable from the original. Both versions have identical memories and niether can admit to not being the original because they were literally the same person, but only until the duplication occured. Following duplication, you have two separate individuals, each with a stake in your identity, but now with their own unique perspective of the world, and each valuing their own existence.
Yes, and these days that's how we measure life vs. death. That wasn't always the case - just as many in this thread are arguing that a brief cessation of brain activity during transport equals death, at one time it was felt that stopping the heart equals death, that starting the heart again after stopping it was akin to creating a zombie, and that putting a person on a bypass machine was a hideous perversion of science. Eventually, the real-life benefits of these procedures outstripped these concerns, and opinions changed.Incidentally, when the human heart stops, for instance in open-heart surgery, brain activity continues - as indicated by monitoring EEG systems.
You keep only considering each half of the process individually. Yes, when your brain is disassembled you will lose consciousness. But once it's reassembled at your destination your consciousness will resume.If your body is disassembled on an atomic scale, you will most certainly lose all consciousness. If a new body is materialized elsewhere, it will enjoy all your experience, knowledge, and personality - but, alas, you will only experience a cessation of existence.
I think that last bit is backwards - the only way to argue that transport=death would be to assume something non-physical like a soul, because anything physical is transported. If sentience is physical, then it will be in the new body. Also, what is the stream of consciousness from that first paragraph if not something incorporeal which you are saying is the true seat of sentience?Being transported, amongst other consequences, results in brain death - naturally, because it destroys the brain. Of course, physically the new brain and body is identical to any observers, but the stream of consciousness which made up your life has been broken. There are now two streams - one just terminated, and another which has just begun.
The only escape clause would be if we posit the existence of a soul, an incorporeal entity which is the true seat of sentience, which transmigrates to the new body.
Can you tell me the difference between the mind that is dematerialized at one transporter and the one rematerialized at the other end? If the person who walks out the other end has all of the memories, the thoughts, the persionality, etc. of the original, believes themselves to be the original, remembers the transporter room fading away and the destination fading in around them, tell me in what way is the person at the end not the person from the beginning?Again, I refer you to the first paragraph of what I wrote. The mind is *destroyed* during transport. That a simulacrum of it is created elsewhere is useful from the point of view of society at large, but of utterly no comfort for the original person who experienced a cessation of existence.
Exactly! That's why I think the word "death" is being used incorrectly here - a brief cessation of consciousness followed by its immediate resumption is not death, no more than a brief cessation of heart beats or a brief cessation of respiration.I don't think people should obsess so much over the dying bit; who cares if you die? You're alive at the end of it, after all.
That's the thing - your sense of life continuity doesn't end, any more than it does under anesthesia, or when you go to sleep at night - in fact much less than either of those, because rather than hours of unconsciousness, transporting only involves seconds, at most. One of the points that I've been trying to make is that this interruption of conciousness is not permanent, but only momentary.Is it that hard to recognize that if your body is destroyed, that no matter what new body is assembled, that your sense of life continuity is at an end? That it comes to a permanent end as soon as your brain is dissolved into a molecular soup?
But if brain activity only pauses, and resumes a moment later, can that really be called death? When the person is standing in front of you, whole and intact and kind of hungry, are you going to tell them, Sorry, your EEG flatlined for 1.2 seconds, you're dead, so stop asking for a sandwich?Edit: I should add - whatever the changing opinions on the life-death transition hitherto, it seems fair now to conclude that brain death is the vital distinction. Transport necessitates brain death, period.
Well, this is science fiction.It goes beyond, even, the temporary extinguishing of brain activity to be followed by it's revival, which by the way, most likely has never occurred.
There is no original individual, he's been destroyed. All that's left is you, and your hopes, fears, beliefs and everything is exactly the same as the other you had. In essense, you are still you. Thus, there is no original and there is no copy; you are you and are still you, even though you've died and then got better again.It matters because the original person's consciousness ends when their body is destroyed. A new body is created elsewhere - a body that happens to be identical or nearly so - but the original individual will be unable to enjoy it.
It isn't obvious to me, and I've never -- through all of the series and all of the movies -- ever been given the impression that anyone dies when the matter and energy of which they are ordinarily composed is converted (not vaporized - where does that come from, anyway?) into a transmittable state. It seems to me better explained as being akin to a state change:I still can't fathom why it isn't obvious that *you*, as in the stream of awareness of existence that is you, ceases to exist when your body is vaporized.
As long as there is only one of me at the end of the transport, I don't care how many duplicates get made. The problem only stars when these duplicates are allowed to exist outside of the transport -- you'd suddenly have clones without preparing for them. I don't mind clones of me, I'm handsome after allIf instead, during the transport, two duplicates were created instead of one, would that have any bearing whatsoever on your opinion? Or why stop at two, let's say a million duplicates are reproduced.
I still can't fathom why it isn't obvious that *you*, as in the stream of awareness of existence that is you, ceases to exist when your body is vaporized.
The replicated being is a reproduction - the Scottie we saw in "Relics" was based upon a template in the computer's memory.
Here's the crucial point: once we're dealing with data in a computer, there's no barrier to producing an infinite number of copies. Are all these copies you and only you? If a million versions of President Obama go walking around after he's beamed out of Airforce One - is he really immortal?
Thought experiment.
Suppose a scientist had developed a new type of nano technology. As an experiment, he applies it to a volunteer. You.
Over a period of one month, individual nanobots (TNG term, but it fits) gradually replace every cell in your body. They travel to the cells site, study it's structure and function, destroy it, then replace it. They replicate it's function and attributes in every way.
At the end of this experiment you are left with a body and brain that are indistinguishable from before. Yet they are comprised of entirely different materials.
Question: Are you still you? That is, are you the same individual that volunteered a month ago.
Discuss. Write on one side of the paper only.
The thing is Cartesian Ego is not a tangible thing. It sounds to be part memory, part consciousness. Both are all in the mind of a person.
If instead, during the transport, two duplicates were created instead of one, would that have any bearing whatsoever on your opinion? Or why stop at two, let's say a million duplicates are reproduced.
I still can't fathom why it isn't obvious that *you*, as in the stream of awareness of existence that is you, ceases to exist when your body is vaporized.
The replicated being is a reproduction - the Scottie we saw in "Relics" was based upon a template in the computer's memory.
Here's the crucial point: once we're dealing with data in a computer, there's no barrier to producing an infinite number of copies. Are all these copies you and only you? If a million versions of President Obama go walking around after he's beamed out of Airforce One - is he really immortal?
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