Lars Feth
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Posted - 2011.06.19 08:20:00 -
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Edited by: Lars Feth on 19/06/2011 08:23:04 Edited by: Lars Feth on 19/06/2011 08:22:26 The Dilemma
"What happened to this one?"
"The stupid bastard warped his battleship into the center of a star."
Cordrik looked at CIDS (Clone Information and Data Sheet). It looked to be a pretty average clone job, although the clone was only epsilon grade and had not been updated in months. That left the definite possibility of the clone having to re-memorize everything it had learned since it was last updated. Cordrik handed the sheet to Jor who would be in charge of operating the Poorecki Pod Clone Retrieval System, colloquially called the pooper scooper, which was used to retrieve the clones from the vats of clear animal fat like goo they had been grown and hung suspended in.
Jor looked at the sheet. "Yikes, ten months. It will be a wonder if this clone can eat solid food, never mind fly a vessel like the Battleship he destroyed."
Cordrik looked at the clone floating in the goo. The clone was naked, helpless, and had metallic wires stretching from his back like thick silver umbilical cords. In many ways the process of growing and then scooping out a clone was like that of delivering a brain dead child. Sure the clone breathed, and sure the empty shell of a body absorbed nutrients from the gel and the cords much like a child in the womb would, but ultimately it was still nothing but an empty shell. Only after the mind of its deceased owner was uploaded would it be considered anything remotely human. _________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Ready for the upload?" asked Jor.
"Vital signs are stable, brain waves are in the green, all systems are at the ready." replied Cordrik.
The removal of the clone from his vat had went off without a hitch. Now came uploading an imprint from the pilots recovery file, arguably the most important part of the procedure. The clone laid naked on a large metallic table with a hollow groove in the center which the cables connected to his back ran down. Cordrik had heard horror stories about mistakes made during this phase. Mistakes like a cable being tripped over and unplugged, the systems losing power and shutting down, and the system rebooting itself without the attendants noticing which would essentially put the same mind into one brain twice (which doesn't seem that bad until you realize that over time the different personas begin to differ in opinion and attitude).
"Now for the waiting. At the current upload rate for an epsilon clone it should be about fifteen minutes." Jor surmised from looking at the CIDS.
Cordrik stared into the rapidly shifting numbers and data points on his holodisplay. He slowly ran his hand through the hologram and watched the light bend as the digits and data flowed over his fingers, much as water surges past a hand in a river always flowing towards its ultimate destination. Digits and data points. All of these numbers, all of this information, every single one and zero was the very identity of this pilot. All his memories, all of his good times, all of his bad. But was it his soul? Some took this job for the ISK, others took it to help people, but not Cordrik. Every time they would upload into a clone Cordrik felt hope that maybe he may catch a glimpse of something in the hologram. Something that might tell him if there was more out there than just cold empty space. With an infinite amount of space and an almost infinite amount of unique people Cordrik refused to believe that this was all there was to humanity, because a human being should not be able to be simplified to ones and zeros.
"Hey, Jor, do you believe in the idea of the soul?" Cordrik asked.
Jor looked over at Cordrik, who was still running his fingers through the light of the hologram, and replied "Why wouldn't I? You're running your hand through one as we speak."
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