Chances are, if you’re reading this sentence and have made it past this comma, or this next one, you’re already bored. Dammit, how did they know?
I know because I too was like you once… I’m lying. I’m still like you. In fact, I’m so bored I’m not even typing anymore. In order to write this, I’m using a robot-automated version of myself, which I’ve implanted with my personality flaws (we’ll call them eccentricities) and memories (we’ll call them vague interpretations of the truth). But if you’ve gotten this far, you’ll realize that I’m lying again. And now, we can’t trust me. Did we really expect this relationship to last long? I had hopes. I’ll admit it. But I’ve left you with something: the investigation of the probability of transferring our consciousness into a body that cannot die.
I think they made a movie about this recently. That movie bombed. It bombed so hard. Why? Probably because it would make much more sense to transfer our consciousness into a species of cockroaches. Would it? Yes. Have you ever seen a cockroach die? Yes? Maybe? No. That’s what they want you to think. They could survive the nuclear holocaust. Hell, they could survive a Thanksgiving dinner with my aunt Eileen. Granted, there would be some drawbacks to our new physical form, but we must sacrifice for immortality.
In fact, we should sacrifice the idea all together. Because we’d do it and find out that the cockroaches had a mindfulness all of their own. Their little bodies would explode from the all out mental warfare of two entities occupying the same space. It would be as though we had somehow possessed the entire cockroach race. And in doing so, we would destroy our kind and theirs, leaving much too much room on this planet for the dolphins and the apes, which we all know are up to something. Luckily, I have a degree in liberal arts, so I know all of this to be true.
This is why I can’t ‘science’.