Update: See the movie at the very end…
****on to the original posting****
I’m telling you, the world cried out for a hand-held coilgun. Really it did.
And in a huge sigh of relief, the world was satiated.
A day or so ago Curtal Friar and I, on this very blog’s comments section, were discussing the idea of teleporters.
Now, I have to say I don’t think they’ll be realized but I’d be tickled if they were someday.
I also have to say I am fed up to death with Schrodinger and his damn feline. I secretly began to wish that no matter how the wavefunction collapsed that the darn thing was dead, and so did Schrodinger he framed the question. Just goes to show you that reductio ad absurdum isn’t so reductio or absurdum merely because you present it as such.
in any event I am overwrought over my tendency to digress! Staying on-track is much like balancing a bowling ball on the tip of a pin. Entanglement and teleportation seem to be holding hands on a first date, and they got to second base for sure, but we all kind of knew the two would end up that way, right?
Want to see the scientist’s method for teleporting information packets via quantum entanglement? Here you go. It’s like quantum socks on a Heisenberg chicken.
And so we are back to the Curtal Friar thing.
As we went back and forth discussing the notion of teleporters I thought it might be time to bring up a notion I’ve had about them. A fear, actually, that would keep me from ever using one.
What if the very quality that makes my consciousness seem to me to be unbroken and whole were to be destroyed even though I rematerialized somewhere else?
How about this as a more straightforward illustration. Say that rather than teleport I step into a phone-booth thing and the machine makes an identical copy of me about six feet away.
We’re two separate people, right? From that point on we could even conceivably live nearly the same life, going from point A to point B, waking and sleeping in the same room at the same time, sharing meals… but at some point out experiences and thoughts would become as unique to each “copy” as your experiences are to mine.
So why should we assume that the teleporter that takes me apart and reconstructs me somewhere else has recreated “me”? That copy is another entity! The “me” that was just standing here before being rudely scanned and recreated is no longer in existence, merely a copy.
But let’s supposed that I am actually teleported and the “me” is the same one. What is our soul, exactly? Is it really spiritual/supernatural/eternal in the Christian sense? Is it bound up in the matter and pattern (the warp and the woof) of my brain? Is my soul different if I take a bipolar medication? Would two souls exist? Would the new “me” be a copy bereft of a soul? Would the faux-me be a soul-less monster without any innate moral sense of right and wrong regardless of which I choose to act upon?
Now you know what keeps me up at night. Besides how they seal up a tennis ball without holes and make it pressurized and perfectly smooth/round under the fuzz, that is.
I love watching stuff like this. He gets into it around 1:30 into the clip. Keep in mind, yes I do eat shrimp paste but a teaspoon at a time cooked into my Thai dishes. Would I eat it by itself? I’d sooner lick a cat’s butt.