Every life comes from somewhere or someone. This one came from nowhere. The tales of "false men" or "soulless clones" or "artificial human constructs" circulate usually somewhere between bars and drunken pillows. No one believes them, but they persist nonetheless. Clones and capsuleers are a part of life, yet there is always the question of soul. What will become of it, when the body dies? Does the same clone is the same man, or another man with same memories? Does it matter to the clone or anyone around it? Maybe not, maybe it does. But my take on this, all of us just a bunch of biomass with neural pathways burned away by repeated revivals. We are robots, nothing more. Just in a different package, that's all.
I want a medal. A medal that states "To the Carest of Bears". Then I will be happy.
CONCORD is a game mechanic with no limits. You cannot 'beat' it, all you can get is more CONCORD. \xa9 itdepartmentof1
Dashboard
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Intel Profile
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