Paradox

Professor Sonja Hardcliffe crossed the room as she spoke and switched the slides on her presentation. Her shoulder length blond hair was light enough to hide the gray strands that occupied a little bit more of her cranial real estate each year. It was difficult to guess her age. She held a doctorate in philosophy, as well as a medical degree and a Master's in literature. She had been teaching at the university for years. Yet she had the vibrancy and enthusiasm of a young woman.

“Greeks of the Hellenistic era were nothing if they were not philosophical hair-splitters, Plutarch included. Thus, the great question arose: was this ship, having been preserved in such manner, the same ship that had originally sailed from Crete? The question may not have an actual answer. However, there are those who say it essentially was the same, and those who say it is not essentially the same.” She finished the presentation. “What are your thoughts?”

She looked over her class. In the front row, students jotted notes in their open notebooks. In the second row, more notebooks were open, and some students had open laptops to type notes. The third row of desks had students occasionally note something of importance as she spoke. The last row of seats held those students who may have been originally reluctant to take the course, but now paid close attention to the professor.

Not seeing anyone volunteer answers, Dr. Hardcliffe started again. “This particular paradox is a very important one. Superficially, it is about a boat that was disassembled, piece by piece, over the years, and rebuilt over the time. It may be easy to say that the new one is still Theseus's ship, since mere replacement of individual parts does not beget a new, different product. Anyone who has replaced parts on a car knows this. New brakes, for example, but same car. Now the Greeks asked another question. Suppose you found all the original wood that had been replaced over time, and using it, rebuilt the ship. Since Theseus sailed on one ship, which one is now the real ship of Theseus?”

One student ventured an answer. “The preserved ship would be the ship of Theseus.”

“Oh?” Sonja's response was interested. “Do tell. Why would that be the case?” Her eyes shone at the effort, her tone belied that she relished the discussion.

“Well,” the student offered, “the Athenians preserved the ship by replacing its parts. The ship itself was a functional ship. The parts were removed when they would no longer function. Thus, the functional ship would be Theseus's ship.”

Sonja leaned back, resting slightly against her desk, and crossed her lower legs. “So then, at what point did those parts being replaced, stop being Theseus's ship?”

A girl in the third row answered. “I'm not sure that necessarily matters. It seems that the item is greater than the sum of its parts.”

Dr. Hardcliffe acknowledged another hand. Its owner challenged the thought. “That's a wonderful sentiment, but Theseus sailed in one ship, and the one he sailed in, was replaced. If the planks are hypothetically recovered after replacement, any historian and collector wants the ship Theseus commanded, not the piecemeal built replica.”

“Given the choice between the decayed parts that were reconstructed, and the one rebuilt, which do you think Theseus would claim?” Dr. Hardcliffe encouraged thoughtful discussion.

“If Theseus is a practical commander, he would claim the one that works. His ship is the one that is able to do its job.”

Sonja looked at the clock in the back of the room. “Excellent. I'll stop here, since there is only a little time left. I want to make one thing clear. The Theseus paradox is a logic puzzle which has several 'children,' if you will; for example, George Washington's axe or the family knife. It has even been parodied. However, it is a serious thought exercise. For next time, I want a report from each of you. Explain the use of the puzzle. And, in a separate paper, take a logical position about which ship is the real ship of Theseus.” She looked again at the clock, then at the class. “That will be all for now. See everyone next class.”

Παράδοξο

After her last afternoon class, Dr. Hardcliffe walked to the campus medical office. She entered her small room. There was enough room to fit a large desk, so people could work on either side of it if they wished, and some other sparse furnishings. The desk itself had a chair on either side for individual conversations that she would have, from time to time. At the corner of Sonja's workspace, a computer monitor stood; wires led to a network box sitting behind it. Other than that, the desk was bare.

On the side of the room facing the side of the desk, a white rectangular table held an electric kettle and a microwave. Some non-perishable food items, and a large jar containing tea bags, sat between the two items.

On the side of the room opposite the desk, a table which held short stacks of books sat against the wall. Beside that, a coat stand held a white lab coat. Directly next to that, was a file cabinet, positioned in the corner. Sonja unlocked and opened the file cabinet, then took the files she needed. After donning the lab coat, she took a clipboard from the table as she exited her room.

The campus medical building was five stories in height. The simple brick building was seemingly impressive, but it was in truth an oversized physician's office which housed a couple of specialists, an area that tried to be a “pre-ER” for students, a few meeting rooms, and a research department. Dr. Hardcliffe was one of very few people having unfettered access to the research area on the top two floors.

As she stepped through the doors at the top of the stairwell, she was greeted by one of her assistants. “Good to see you, Dr. Hardcliffe,” he said pleasantly.

“Good afternoon, Jessee, thank you. How are things?”

Jessee, a dark haired young man, knew the question wasn't an invitation for idle chatter. “Very well, and quite promising.” He spoke as they walked through the hall and she consulted charts. “All fifteen subjects remain in good health. There were no ill effects for subjects in Groups A or C. Subjects in Group B did suffer some complications, as you remember, but those are over and the latest charts show subjects returned to baseline.” He provided her some papers.

Sonja placed the papers in her clipboard. “Thank you. How many are ready to move to the next phase?”

“Subjects in Group A are a bit apprehensive, as are those in Group B,” he quickly answered. “Subjects in Group C are more ready than the others, for the time being.”

They stopped in the hallway, before some of the exam room doors, behind which one of the subjects was waiting. She found the subject's file, then looked at Jessee. “What is your opinion of proceeding?”

“I think, Dr. Hardcliffe,” he began slowly as he collected his thoughts, “that all subjects are physically capable of moving forward with the experiment. I would add, however, that it may do some good to let everyone rest for a couple of weeks, and become better used to their new parts.”

“Thank you, Jessee.” Sonja smiled and knocked on the exam room door before entering to interview the subject.

Per the arrangement of the study, a psychiatrist, Dr. Karen McDunn, interviewed the subjects following Dr. Hardcliffe's departure. There would be a brief interview immediately following Dr. Hardcliffe, then a longer follow up, if needed, the next day. Usually, the two doctors were able to meet in Sonja's office, in the afternoon following their respective check-ins and interviews with the subjects.

Sonja had chosen to work with Dr. McDunn for her psychiatric credentials, as well as her Master's in Theology. On paper, Dr. Hardcliffe headed the project, but in fact, Dr. McDunn was of critical importance. Sonja had her way with data, and Karen had her way with people. It may not have been much exaggeration to say that Karen's gentle demeanor allowed some subjects to open up to her rather easily, which was of great help to the project. The two colleagues respected each other greatly.

Karen followed Sonja into the office. Sonja started the electric water pot. “Tea? Coffee?” She offered.

Karen shook her head. “No, thank you,” she refused pleasantly.

Sonja nodded. “Thank you for your help and input.”

Karen responded quietly.

There were a few quiet moments while the two skimmed their notes about the subjects. The amount of time it took for the water to be ready for tea, was typically more than they needed to refresh their minds. Each of them enjoyed a few moments to relax, knowing that the actual conversation started when Dr. Hardcliffe's drink was ready.

She sat behind her desk, opposite Karen. “What are your thoughts on the progress?”

Karen leaned back, making herself comfortable in the chair on her side of the desk. “We have a group of healthy individuals. They're definitely apprehensive about the next step. That is expected. Whatever the physical assessment, I don't feel comfortable saying they're psychologically ready.”

“Understandable,” Sonja replied thoughtfully. “What do you advise?”

“My professional opinion is to let them rest for a month. They'll become familiar with their new equipment, and see if it really won't hurt.”

Sonja frowned, disappointed. “Physically, they're fine. Jessee recommended a two week wait, for much the same reason and to ensure the body is fully recovered.”

“I know you're eager to proceed,” Karen offered, “but I think it's best to wait at least another month. I don't want anyone having to take Valium to calm themselves before the next step. But, that is the least of my concerns.”

“I agree,” Sonja nodded, “Safety is paramount. What do you suggest?”

Dr. McDunn's parents had immigrated to the states, and her Irish accent was not noticeable most of the time. Occasionally, it would present itself slightly, usually when she was focusing intently on her words, or when she had strong feelings about something. This was one of those times. “Use the time to inform them of the next step and what it involves. The hypothesis you have is, on a technical level, scientifically sound. There's no reason this shouldn't work. Let them know that. One month, and not less,” she emphasized, seeing Sonja's eager expression. “This won't accelerate the time to wait. It just makes them better informed and more ready to continue.”

“Dr. Hardcliffe smirked. “Very well. I won't object, and I'll follow your advice.”

“I appreciate that.” Dr. McDunn leaned forward slightly over her side of the desk, passing her notes to Sonja. “I've already copied this so you can have the originals. I'll email you the readable version tomorrow.” She allowed a half smile, then stood.

“Karen,” Sonja spoke as she started turning to the door. “Thank you for your help. I need to ask you something, if you don't mind.”

Dr. McDunn faced Dr. Hardcliffe. “Hm?”

“You keep telling me your professional opinion,” Sonja prefaced. “What other thoughts do you have?”

“My personal opinion, you mean?”

Dr. Hardcliffe nodded.

Karen sighed heavily. “Personally, I don't know a gentle way to say this. You're playing with fire, of a magnitude you can't even imagine. I know your basis for the project is the Ship of Theseus thought exercise. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, Sonja; I agree with you there. It's a fine exercise for inanimate objects. But human beings are different. We have a spirit, and I think we agree on that. But you're not dealing with a box of stuff you can replace the sides and still have a box of stuff. We're a lot more complicated than that.” She paused. “The human body isn't a simple 'soul jar' that can be easily replaced.”

Sonja thought for a few moments, digesting Karen's words. “I see,” she said finally, “I suppose I see what you're saying.” She frowned. “Do you want to leave the project, then?”

Karen shook her head, and smiled slightly. “No, Sonja. I'll continue to inform you and advise you, as you asked. Just like you, I want this to be a success.”

Sonja smiled. “Thank you, then.”

Παράδοξο

Days later, Dr. Hardcliffe faced her class again. The papers she had assigned were in a pile on her desk. Some students had already emailed their copies to her. “I thank you for completing the assignment,” she began. “The Ship of Theseus paradox is, in fact, a very important philosophical exercise. Aside from being mentioned in movies and comedy routines, it does have some real world application. Some is mundane, while some is rather … complex.”

She brought down the projection screen, and displayed on the screen, the image of an old warship. It was immediately recognized by the class.

“Practical application,” she started. “The USS Constitution was originally built in 1797. Between then, and her bicentennial anniversary, the ship was repaired and items replaced or rebuilt several times. The USS Constitution is recorded as the world's oldest commissioned warship afloat.” She paused for a moment. “At this point, the ship is estimated to have about 10% of her original structure. Thus the question: is it really the Constitution?”

There was some mumbling in the class as the students quietly answered and discussed among themselves. An occasional “of course” could be heard intermittently, and mingled with a vehement “no way!”

Dr. Hardcliffe halted discussion after a few moments. “As I'm sure you discovered during your assignments, one of the applications of this thought exercise is to explore identity. What makes Theseus's ship, his ship? What makes the Constitution, the Constitution? Is it the planks of the ship? Is it the individuals who walked on the deck? Is it the journeys taken by particular timbers?”

She stopped, allowing the class time to think. Then she continued. “Is the wooden frigate currently bearing the name, really the USS Constitution? If not, at what point did it cease being the Constitution and just a name-bearing boat?”

One of the students offered an answer. “Technically, as soon as one of the old boards were replaced, it became a different ship.”

Dr. Hardcliffe smiled. “Let's examine that standpoint for a moment, shall we? The stance must dispense with the notion that 'the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.' That notion gone, the premise is technically acceptable. However, apply the same stance now, to someone who has a prosthetic limb.”

The class sat in rapt attention at the statement, and Sonja continued. “By that logic, when an individual replaces a limb with a prosthetic, they become less human.”

The student offered a humble response. “That's not exactly what I meant, Professor. At the least, I would never remove the notion that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, at least when thinking of human beings. We have a soul. Ships don't.”

“An interesting remedy then,” Sonja admitted.

After some more talk and instruction, Dr. Hardcliffe gave the assignment and dismissed the class.

Παράδοξο

Months later, after completing the third stage of the experiment, Dr. Hardcliffe interviewed one of the subjects from Group A, in one of the exam rooms.

The subject was tall and muscular, but neither had anything to do with Sonja's project. He had simply been one of the subjects chosen from a pool of athletic individuals. The subjects in Group A had their neurological and sensory systems replaced with artificial components, although the brain was left intact. The third stage of the project for those in Group A was the replacement of sensory organs, such as the eyes, the tongue, and the remaining skin which had not been replaced earlier. All of this had been replaced with artificial equipment, designed to mimic the proper size, shape, and feel, of the original part. Ideally, there would be no difference in the form of the new parts.

Jessee had taken the person's vital signs, and Sonja reviewed them as she spoke with the subject. “How is everything now?”

“Seems that everything is getting along alright. I'm not noticing anything bad going on.” The subject looked around as he spoke.

“Good, good. How is your hearing?” she continued. “Notice anything different?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe?”

Sonja frowned and wrote something on her clipboard. “We'll run some tests, then. I had expected some difference, but you're reasonably healthy with no hearing loss, so you might not notice in everyday use. The tests will show us if there's any change; hopefully it will see improvement. Then we can help you fully use and enjoy them.”

“Oh.” He kept looking around the room in seeming fascination.

Sonja took some small vials. “I have some samples for you here. You said your taste and smell seem better, correct?”

He nodded. To ensure that there was no mixing of the samples, he was given filtered water to clear his palate. After smelling and tasting the different samples, they found that they were, in fact, enhanced.

“That's actually very good,” Sonja remarked as she replaced the samples. “Now, tell me about your eyesight.”

The subject's eyes darted around Sonja, glimpsing at her as he answered. “Well, I can focus on things better, I can see far, better, and clearer. I like the heat vision and night vision options. They're cool.”

“You seem happy with them,” she observed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, then added, “you know what would be cool, though? X-ray vision.”

Right before he finished the sentence, Sonja had caught the subject staring at her chest. Her arm was already in reflex-speed movement as he finished saying the word “x-ray;” he didn't have time to attempt a gaming smile. A loud, sharp slap erupted and filled the room when her hand met the side of his face.

“Ow!” The subject stumbled slightly from the force, having been taken completely by surprise. A red mark outlined where he had been struck, and the surrounding area stung.

Dr. Hardcliffe was nonchalant, although now she held the clipboard in front of her chest as she wrote, as though shielding her body from his gaze. She didn't miss a beat; however, her tone was much more professional. “Very well. I see the external sensory routes are in good working order,” she said dryly. Still holding the clipboard across her bosom, she looked at the subject. “I trust the other locations we've replaced are also in good shape and responsive?”

He nodded, feeling the place she slapped. “Uh – yeah.”

“Excellent!” She smiled. Without letting her clipboard down, she held out a hand. “Thank you for your time.” They shook hands, and Sonja added, “As usual, Dr. McDunn will be here in a few moments. We'll meet next week.”

Once outside the room, and with the door closed, Dr. Hardcliffe sighed as she rested with her back against the wall. She heard footsteps and saw Dr. McDunn. “Karen?”

Dr. McDunn looked at her. “Something bothering you, Sonja?”

She held back a nod, but couldn't hide a bit of concern from her voice. “Subject A-3 … do I need to worry about psychopathic behavior, or that he'll harm me?”

“No,” Karen reassured her brightly. “Why?”

“Thanks,” Sonja sighed with relief, and allowed a small chuckle. “X-ray vision,” she muttered to herself.

Karen heard the muttered remark, and nodded with understanding. She entered the room, while Sonja went to see the next subject.

Παράδοξο

Dr. Hardcliffe and Dr. McDunn sat in the former's office, as they usually did, the day after the check-in. Once seated, Sonja began. “How are the subjects, mentally?”

Karen frowned. “For some, they are just now realizing the extent of their actions. It's a bit disturbing for them. If you go any further, it should be with extreme caution.”

Sonja thought. “Is this something that can be addressed, without having to involve chemical treatments?”

“Easily,” Karen nodded slightly, appreciating that Sonja didn't want to use pharmaceuticals through the process. “However, it will take a bit more time.”

“I understand,” Sonja reluctantly responded. She didn't enjoy the wait between phases, but didn't want to harm anyone. She thought for a few moments, then looked at Karen. “Do any show signs of entering an identity crisis?”

Karen thought, and reviewed her notes. “No, I don't see anything,” she mused as she skimmed.

“That's good news, at least.” Sonja sipped her tea.

“Sonja, I think you should stop the experiment,” Karen offered quietly.

This was nothing new, although it was the first time Karen had said it without invitation, and as directly as this. She had not liked the project in the least, even if she did admit that the science behind it was sound. Sonja acknowledged her. “I know. But you see there haven't been any complications, physically or mentally. This is a scientist's dream, Karen.”

“So far, nothing has gone amiss,” Karen interjected.

“I know,” Dr. Hardcliffe admitted. “But if this is a success, imagine what could be accomplished! Replacement of each organ and system with parts that are always accepted by the body! The new organs can't get infected. They can't become cancerous. Someone with a predisposition to cancer can have parts replaced if they want, not even give it a chance, and lead a normal, worry free life! Think of everything this can accomplish. This could effectively bring an end to disease and neurological problems!” Her eyes widened in excitement and stood with her mouth agape, as she suddenly realized something. “Karen! This may be an answer to overcome death! No more losing family members, watching loved ones in pain as they fade away!”

Karen's blood ran cold. She watched as Sonja's face showed a near-manic expression. Maintaining her composure, she spoke firmly, to get Sonja's attention and to prevent herself from becoming unnerved. “Doctor Hardcliffe.”

Sonja's excited monologue was broken. “Yes?”

Karen was relieved. “Dr. Hardcliffe, I understand your enthusiasm and appreciate what you're trying to accomplish.” She paused. “What you're doing is treading unknown and possibly untestable ground. You don't know, you can't know, the final outcome of all this even after all the phases are complete. I know you want to do good with this, but please, don't get carried away.”

Sonja's response was calm. “We're just replacing parts, Karen. It's not like we're swapping souls or killing them.”

Karen thought, then looked directly at Sonja. “How would you know? How would you test it?”

They were both silent for a moment. After some time, Sonja spoke. “Karen?”

“Yes, Dr. Hardcliffe,” she answered, “I will continue to monitor the psychological well being of the subjects. I will also encourage you to end it. But so long as you insist upon this madness, I will look after your subjects,” she said coolly. “Just remember, they are people.” Karen turned and approached the door.

Sonja called as Karen's hand reached the lever. “Karen?”

Karen turned again to face her. “Good day, Dr. Hardcliffe,” she said coldly. With that, she opened the door and left Sonja to her thoughts.

Παράδοξο

Months later, Sonja sat in her office, reviewing notes. Phase 4 of the project involved taking members of each group, who had gone through replacing several organs and systems, then replacing another set of organs and systems, based on what had been done in other groups.

The initial phase replaced organs which were interrelated or shared functions. This reduced the chances of complication. Combining systems would be challenging. After each step, more time was allowed before the next, for physical and mental recovery. With all the precautions, things were going well.

At the end of Phase 4, all the subjects now had replaced the majority of their bodies. The process was slower, as more time had been allowed between each replacement operation to evaluate the physical and emotional stability of the subjects. So far, everything had been moving smoothly, even if it was slow progress.

Παράδοξο

There was a slightly extended rest period after the completion of Phase 4. Jessee had reported the physical health of the subjects remained stable.

Sonja and Karen sat once again in the former's office. Pleasantries aside, Karen handed her notes to Sonja. She didn't wait for a prompt. “I have some concerns about the subjects, Dr. Hardcliffe. From a clinical stance, you should know.”

Sonja drank from her cup of tea. “Oh?” She was attentive. Dr. McDunn had reservations about the project from the beginning, but her assessments were always honest and devoid of bias.

“Some of the subjects are developing signs of identity issues and beginning to form coping mechanisms,” she paused momentarily before adding, “I'm also seeing the beginnings of delusions in some.”

Sonja put her tea on her desk. “What?” She hardly believed what she heard. Karen had always been forthright and honest. “This is rather sudden.”

Karen ignored the comment. “They've all agreed to stay here for observation and treatment until the issues are alleviated.”

Sonja sounded relieved with her answer. “Very good, thank you. The project can proceed after that, then?”

Karen nodded reluctantly. “Yes,” she sighed, “after proper clearance, you can continue.”

Dr. Hardcliffe noticed the resigned tone. “Karen, you have to admit that the results are promising. Two thirds of the bodies have been replaced with artificial components. They were healthy when the project started, and remain healthy.”

Karen looked at Sonja incredulously. “Healthy?!” She exclaimed. “Healthy? You have subjects developing mental illnesses, and you call that healthy? Who are you to call that healthy? Those people are coming out of the project with problems that I have to address!”

“I'm sorry,” Sonja started, “what I mean is --”

“I know what you mean,” Karen angrily interrupted, her accent now quite evident. “Your entire focus is on the physical. It's all well and good as long as they can still physically do what they were able to, before this. That's well and good, but there's a larger issue at stake.” She glared at Sonja.

She tried to ease Karen. “Any amputee can develop Similar issues; you know that! We're just doing this on a voluntary basis, and replacing body parts with new, fully functioning mechanical forms.”

“You don't understand!” Karen shouted, much to the surprise of both herself and Sonja. She quickly recovered and continued. “I've been trying to tell you for over a year now, and you just don't get it! People aren't objects! People have a soul!”

“I do understand!” Sonja defended her work, and spoke quickly. “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. We already know that. We should be able to replace physical parts that can be seen, and not affect the unseen spirit.”

“Dr. Hardcliffe,” Karen began tersely, “while I do see your point, and also understand your premise and approach, I do not agree with your conclusions. I know the basis you're using, but you're not dealing with 800-year old ships. You're dealing with human beings. What you do physically can, and does, affect the spirit. Right now, some of them are cracking. What happens when they break?

Silence filled the room. Sonja looked sadly, and thoughtfully, into her teacup. When she spoke, it was quietly. “You presume failure, then?”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you care? If it succeeds?”

“No,” Sonja protested. “I heard what you said. They are people. This has a real impact.”

Karen sighed. “I foresee a mess at the end of this. One that I hope can be fixed.” She waited, then added, “I'm sorry about shouting.”

Sonja shook her head calmly. “It's alright. And thank you for your help.”

Karen nodded in acknowledgment before turning to the door. “Good day, Dr. Hardcliffe.”

Παράδοξο

Months again passed, then the final phase began. There were close calls, and some delays between operations, but all the subjects emerged from the final procedures alive and appearing well. Jessee and Sonja made rounds, and kept everyone observation for a week. This was to ensure the results, and also to monitor and prevent post surgery infections and mishaps.

They needn't have worried. The physical condition of the subjects was unquestionably well. As usual, Dr. McDunn followed Dr. Hardcliffe through the check-up interviews.

Παράδοξο

Karen had asked for an extra day to prepare this particular meeting. On the day of the meeting, she asked for it to be pushed back by a half hour. Sonja had her tea ready when Karen arrived. “Ah, thank you,” she said, noticing Karen's presence. “I took the liberty of heating a small pizza. Would you care for some?”

When Karen didn't answer, Sonja looked up. “Well, have a seat, at least,” she offered, but Karen had stood herself at the front of Sonja's desk and wasn't moving. “Very well,” she shrugged.

Sonja seated herself, and Karen held a CD to her. Curious, Sonja entered the CD and played the file. The first part was an audio recording.

All subjects have emerged from the final stage of the project with no apparent deleterious impact on the physical health. No difference has been noted in physical appearance, and all movements appear natural, which neatly avoids the uncanny valley. Their psyche, however, seems to have been deeply affected at the last stage of the project, in spite of all efforts to avoid such an event.
Since any mild psychological reaction was successfully treated at the time of occurrence, the decision was made at each chance, to continue with the project.
At this point, all subjects show evidence of having been deeply shaken in a psychological manner. In spite of patient-subject familiarity, it was very difficult to get them to talk. For reference, the main question posed by all subjects was recorded on video equipment, and follows.

There was a brief silence on the file, then the video started. A young woman looked off to the side of the camera, addressing the person off-screen. From that direction, Dr. McDunn's voice started. “How are you feeling?"

The woman, a beautiful and young raven haired girl with soft features and dark eyes, shivered involuntarily. “S-so c-c-c-cold. S-s-scared.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she showed a panicked expression, as she felt for her heart. “Why am I so c-c-cold?”

Sonja, disturbed by the sight, stopped the playback and ejected the disk. “I'm – I'm sorry,” she mustered as she gave the CD to Karen.

Karen glared at Sonja with a look that mixed pain, sorrow, and anger. Tears fell down her cheeks. “Every. Single. Person.” She seethed. “Every single one asked that question. I heard that fifteen times, interviewing these people. They're broken.” She planted the CD on Sonja's desk. “Here's your filthy handiwork. Keep it,” she added, “I have my own copy.” Karen marched to the door.

“Karen --” Sonja started.

“That's Doctor McDunn to you,” she turned on her heel. “And right now, the only one in this room worthy of the courtesy. May Heaven have mercy on you.” She turned again, and marched out, closing the door soundly behind her.

Sonja was quiet, then swore under her breath as she realized the gravity of her actions.

Παράδοξο

Years later, a different professor, Donald Cutter, lectured the philosophy class. A holographic display occupied the top of the instructor's desk as he spoke. “The Theseus Ship Paradox has been explored and discussed, since offered by Plutarch centuries ago. The premise is that an apocryphal ship was preserved for over 800 years by the citizens of Athens, by simply replacing every single one of its timbers over time.” The hologram showed an accelerated animation of each plank being replaced. “The discussion was two parts. The first part asked if the Athenians had the real ship. The second part asked, if the timbers of the first ship were found and reassembled, then would that be the ship of Theseus, or would the reassembled one be his ship?”

Dr. Cutter paused the hologram. “The paradox has been used as a discussion point about identity. What makes something, whatever it is? Of course, the study of the paradox took many forms. One form was a tragic event that actually occurred here. About 150 years ago, one Dr. Sonja Hardcliffe suggested it was possible to replace an individual's entire physiology, and still maintain the basic, original humanity and personality of the person. She developed and operated an experiment to confirm hypothesis.

He switched the hologram to show some text. “In the aftermath, every one of the people involved in the project suffered deep psychological and emotional scarring. Though she retained her degrees, she was effectively shunned by the scientific community. Her experiments didn't answer any questions, but that really wasn't why she was shunned.”

Hands raised in the class. “If they had all the human parts replaced, then wouldn't they be machines?”

“What makes a human?” Dr. Cutter challenged. “Just skin and bone, then?”

“No” came an answer. Dr. Cutter nodded to continue. “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Humans have intangible qualities that machines don't. Emotion and personality, to start.”

“A fine answer,” Dr. Cutter stated. “Now do you all remember the people I've invited here so far? Dan, Matt, Sue, Marie, Liz, Joe, and Amy?” The class nodded. “Good.” Then he turned to the student who said the subjects would now be machines. “Would you call them people?”

“Yeah,” the student replied, “why wouldn't I?”

“They were all part of Dr. Hardcliffe's project and had everything replaced.” He paused. “All of the subjects required quite a bit of psychiatric care. But, since when do machines need that?”

The class sat in silent thought. “All that Dr. Hardcliffe did, was develop a means of applying the paradox of Theseus's ship, to humans. Rather than answering anything, at the end of the project, we are left wondering, which is the real human? And, if the parts taken away from the subjects, had been reassembled and reanimated, which would be the real person? Those, of course, are the simpler questions. How about asking if these people, being made of artificial components, are still alive? Can they die? If they cannot die, are they any less human? How can we tell? Those are things to consider. Dismissed.”

Παράδοξο

That afternoon, Dr. Cutter went to the campus medical office. Over time, it had been kept well, and received equipment upgrades to keep with the times. While it had a few more doctors, it hadn't really changed all that much, except for the fact it had a more robust emergency department. After visiting archives in the basement, he traveled up to the uppermost research floor. Years ago, the rooms at one end of the hall held the 15 subjects participating in the study. Now, one was dedicated to holding one patient.

Donald knocked on the door. “Come in!” answered the voice from inside. He stepped in, and closed the door behind him. “Hi,” he greeted the occupant.

The woman's age was hard to judge. She had been a fixture at the institution for years, but with her light blond hair and smooth skin, the only thing people may have admitted was that, based on how long they recall, she had to be in her 40's, but not much older. She wore a sad, mournful expression. “Thank you for coming.”

“Anytime. Are you alright?”

The woman nodded, slowly. “I just can't stop thinking about those people. After all these years, still being around. I wonder if they all feel the same, all feel trapped.”

Dr. Cutter looked at her and spoke gently. “After the initial fallout, everything recovered. Everyone is doing well, now. They have been, for a while.”

The woman started crying. “Still, I feel so horrible.”

Dr. Cutter hugged her, trying to comfort her. “It's okay, I know. You shouldn't be like this, though.” He held her as she cried. When she finished, he looked her in the eye. “I know what was intended behind the project. It was created from the intent to have people live better lives.”

The woman nodded.

Dr. Cutter continued. “You and I know that's the truth, and I hope you do realize that one day. Then you can leave this place, and live, as you should.”

The woman looked at him, curious. “Really? I should?”

Dr. Cutter nodded. “Yes. I know you think otherwise, but you're not a monster, Sonja.”

Dr. Hardcliffe allowed herself a small, barely noticeable, half smile. “Thank you.”