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Aria Jenneth
Caldari
Ghost Festival
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Posted - 2008.07.13 08:19:00 -
[1]
"Capsuleer dementia." The term is central to the discussion of capsuleer nature, marking the line between those who appear human in thought and deed and those who seem either to be irretrievably mad, evil, or else simply "other." The existence of the division itself is arguable, yet for those of us who have crossed the line to join the ranks of the Demented, the fact of it seems obvious.
We are not as we were. It is difficult, perhaps, to identify what we now are, but that it is somehow different appears clear.
I have attempted, in these writings, to establish at least a starting point, a beginning for our investigation into our own nature and, consequently, into our proper role in this universe-- an issue central to my own Achur faith, if not to all. I wish now to address this central issue.
The image of a person in a mirror is not, itself, that which it reflects. This is obvious: a reflection is an artifact of light, rather than matter. It is not even a copy; it is merely a turning back of reflected light, so that the person the light shines off of can see herself.
But what if you could build a mirror that would reflect a mind, rather than a body?
Let's step back a moment. Imagine, if you will, a potter of incredible skill. Confronted with an intricate masterwork of a pot, he can effectively duplicate it, creating a copy of incredible exactness. Yet will this copy be the same as the original?
Inevitably not. Even if the potter is supernaturally skilled, the clay used is not the self-same clay; there will be inconsistencies, trace minerals, microscopic irregularities. Of course, if the original is then destroyed, comparing the two becomes more difficult, but the fact will remain that if the two were analyzed side by side, they would be distinguishable.
Imagine, then, that this potter possesses a mirror that destroys that which it reflects, but which then allows the potter, based on that reflection, to create a new pot, as described above.
This is not an inaccurate description of our own situation. The cloning process captures a "reflection" of a capsuleer mind using an intense, near-instantaneous scanning process which severely damages the brain it is used on, and transmits that reflection, often a distance of many light years, to a cloning facility, where a clone is then imprinted with a mental pattern based on the transmitted data.
If a person steps between two well-aligned mirrors, she will be able to look to either side and see reflections of herself extending, seemingly, to infinity in either direction. But this can hardly be the case: mirrors can be made amazingly accurate, but the perfect mirror (the perfect anything, really) has never yet been invented. Each reflection, then, will be a little altered from the one before it. A second copy (a copy of a copy) will almost inevitably be a little further from the original than the first copy was. And so, the third. And so on.
This much is obvious. But is it true, in respect to us? Or, if it is, is it significant? It's a trite statement that all things are subject to change, but surely human minds are subject to more than most? Humans forget things all the time, and stubborn though they may be they're ultimately influenced by almost everything around them in one way or another. How is a clone transfer different?
The key seems to me to be in the distinction of the copy from what the copy would have been if it had not been copied. With every succeeding copy, not only does change continue in its usual, organic fashion, but a few things are changed which otherwise would not have been.
Now, the ultimate significance of this (or even its reality) to an entity may be small, if, and here is the sticking point, it remains unnoticed.
[cont'd]
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Aria Jenneth
Caldari
Ghost Festival
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Posted - 2008.07.13 08:20:00 -
[2]
In fact, it seems to me that it does not matter greatly the degree to which the above analogy is actually true, so long as it is recognized as true, consciously or not, by the infomorph experiencing it.
Emotional distance in the mind of a human is a curious thing. That which happens in the human's immediate vicinity will register strongly; that which happens far away-- a continent, light minute, or light year away-- will register as an interesting story, but a human often has to expend actual effort to work up an emotional reaction to such news unless it is of some immediate personal significance.
Hence, the death of a son ten light years distant might as well have happened next door, while the deaths of a few dozen strangers at the same distance won't even register as news. To stir a spontaneous emotional response, then, it seems that either emotional or spatial proximity is necessary.
Now-- I would suggest further that spatial proximity is, in fact, a form of emotional proximity. That which happens near to a human, spatially, impinges upon that human's life in a way in which that which happens far away rarely can. A rise in local crime raises worries, rather than a shrug; a nearby fire or accident might inspire a quick check of safety devices and emergency preparedness; the sound of gunfire, broadcast from far away, might inspire curiosity or excitement (not unlike, as a few humans might guiltily admit, an action holovid), while gunfire nearby will result in deep concern and an attempt to account for any missing loved ones. It is because humans form emotional attachment to their surroundings that what happens near to them, spacially, has such impact.
So what happens when what used to be a human takes an emotional step back from everything?
Consider: a capsuleer, upon first cloning, becomes, abruptly, a copy in a universe of originals. The capsuleer has died, and lived through it. The objective truth of this is unimportant; so long as the capsuleer is aware and believes it-- again, consciously or not-- this is a step away from all else that lives.
And it's not even as though a clone is a very exact copy. Osteoplastic bones: step. Genetic age of the (frozen) genetic sample it's made from: step. Crafted from corpses at best, nutrient broth at worst: step.
For a new-born infomorph, a technical description of how clones are made and what of typically makes for disturbing reading and probably constitutes about three emotional steps all on its own. It's being hammered into the capsuleer's mind: "You're a copy. You're a copy. You're a copy."
What's more, the infomorph's existence is full of further distancing factors, starting with the fact that we routinely plug the gray matter that houses us into a starship, effectively abandoning a fragile, human form for a much larger and more powerful one. Step. We pack our cranial space with implants until our skulls are probably more hardware than either bone or osteoplastic. Step.
We kill, over time, millions of people. That's at least one step, and probably more. And even if we don't, we make our resources creating the weapons that do; the economics of our existence are positively drenched in blood.
Is it any wonder we find our emotional ties to humans weakening? Pretty soon, a combat-trained capsuleer can reduce a conventional battleship to dust and think nothing of it; if the capsuleer thinks of the crew at all, it's likely to be not unlike reading in the Scope that a few thousand Guristas (or whatever) died in combat with a capsuleer. In other words, "Big deal."
[cont'd]
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Aria Jenneth
Caldari
Ghost Festival
|
Posted - 2008.07.13 08:21:00 -
[3]
An odd twist emerges in the behavior, not of capsuleer to human, but of capsuleer to capsuleer. ItÆs true that we can be both bloodthirsty and bloody-minded towards one another, but itÆs also true that some very bloodthirsty capsuleer pirates have been known to distribute advice and even reimburse novice pilots who fall prey to them. While this could be taken (as I admittedly have in the past) as evidence that we are fundamentally the same in ways we do not share with humans, I think that the reality is more nuanced:
I think we are ôsimilar,ö and thus feel a greater empathy and understanding for each other than we do for humanity. If copies have little in common with the originals beyond the superficial, it seems only natural that we should replace that emotional bond with a connection to fellow copiesùwho have, at least, one thing in common with us, and frequently much more.
Of course, within this framework, a great many variations are possible: a particular relationship might prove stronger than the capsuleerÆs growing ôdistance,ö at least for a time, allowing genuine affection between human and infomorph. Similarly, a given infomorph, whether out of religious conviction or powerfully-held sense of self, might indefinitely resist internalizing the idea of being a ôcopy,ö even subconsciously, and thus avoid capsuleer dementia altogether.
There are two important, final notes to be made. First, this explanation does not fully cover the predatory behavior that seems to characterize the Demented, unless we accept that humans who become Demented infomorphs are, even at the beginning, predatory creatures by nature who will deal cruelly with anything they do not greatly care about. This is possible, but not yet clear. Further observation will be necessary.
Second, this writing is by no means to be taken as an assertion or acceptance that capsuleer dementia is a mental illness, ôall in our heads,ö and therefore ônot real.ö While it is true that dementia appears to be a psychological process, this has never been seriously in dispute; the question is not whether the process is psychological, but whether it is a disease or an adjustment. If it is the former, we Demented are all simply unfortunate, sick, mad creatures, best either restrained and put into treatment or put out of our (and everyone elseÆs) misery.
If, however, it is the latter, if the psychological change we undergo is an adjustment to our circumstances rather than a disease of the mind, then we are not simply damaged, but rather transformed. This is not to say that our state is ôtranscendentö or in any other way superior; it is only to say that we no longer exist as humans do and no longer think of ourselves, consciously or not, as humans.
If this is true, if our minds are simply adjusting to what we now perceive ourselves to be, that is to say, something ôotherö than human, I find it difficult to conceive of a more absolute demonstration of fundamental difference: that, in the face of all the assumptions to the contrary, all the assertions of our common humanity, we have not only become something ôelse,ö but functionally adjusted ourselves to being so.
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Siviran
Caldari
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Posted - 2008.07.13 17:00:00 -
[4]
I am suddenly reminded of something I once heard before I became a capsuleer...
"There are so many kinds of madness, so many ways in which the human brain may go wrong; and so often it happens that what we call madness is both reasonable and just. It is so. Yes. A little reason is good for us, a little more makes wise men of some of us--but when our reason over-grows us and we reach too far, something breaks and we go insane."
None the less, an interesting treatise to read, though by this point in the evolution of Capsuleer society, a bit of a moot point.
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