People say that when you die, your soul is released back into the universe while your body perishes.
I now know that to be not quite true, seeing that both my soul and body are still intact and part of me. I wiggle my fingers and feel the familiar sensation of them rubbing against one another. Save for some disorientation, it even seems remotely possible that I could be very much alive. Except of course, I know for a fact that I am irrevocably dead.
People also say that when you die, your memories are wiped clean before your soul gets recycled to inhabit the next vessel. That’s not quite true either — I have pristine memories from when my mother brought me to get my first piercing, of grandfather sending to me to school on his rickety old bicycle, of me striding across the stage at my graduation ceremony. Surely those memories have not been involuntarily implanted into me as I await for my next life? But maybe I’m jumping the gun here. Maybe “they” will lead me to Meng Po later for a bowl of soup before I cross the Bridge in the morning. But for now, all I know is that my memories have not left me.
Being in the unknown makes it hard to say what’s real or not. Am I real? I feel like I am, but I also know for certain that I’m dead — I have my memories to prove it. But if this is the afterlife, where am I in the real world? Surely my body can’t be existing in two places at once? If we follow that logic, that means my body is in the real world and my soul is in the afterlife. Then this body I inhabit must be a clone.
But wait, who’s to say which body is real and which is not? This body that I inhabit now feels just as real as when I was living in the real world. If a clone can feel as real as the original, what makes it different? It’s just like looking into a mirror and seeing your own reflection. You only know you’re real because your mind inhabits that body. What of your “clone” in the mirror? Is it not real only because it’s “copying” your motions? What if your mind is controlling both vessels at the same time? The fact that I’m existing here right now actually makes my hive mind theory not so far-fetched after all. Heck, have I just single-handedly solved the world’s greatest mystery?
Okay wait, slow down. Now that I’m looking closely at my body, I’m noticing some discrepancies. For example, where’s that ugly scar on my right knee from when I fell on the tar pavement playing Catch & Freeze in primary school? Or the burn mark on my palm I got from the iron last week? In fact, where are all my tattoos?
I look around the space. It’s empty. Not even a door or a gate to indicate that this is an enclosed space. Why is everything so grey? It would make sense if I were on a mountain, but nothing suggests that the place is surrounded by fog. The terrain is also flat. There’s just a whole lot of nothing as far as the eye can see. Seriously, what a boring and dreadful place. I hope someone comes and get me soon.
Suddenly, from the nothingness came a sound. It’s muffled, but it’s clearly calling my name. I squint in the direction of the sound to locate its source. There’s nothing there, but the sound is getting closer and louder. I can hear my name audibly now. It’s repeated, getting closer and closer until the sound comes from right in front of me. I take a deep breath and reach out my hands towards it.
I awake to an assault of bright lights and my mother crouched right in front of me with a piercing stare. This thing is going to kill you someday, she said as she threw the headset onto my lap. Come and eat, dinner’s ready.
I rubbed my eyes and gradually regained my vision. My eyes focused on the contents on the table. The front cover of the game cartridge reads Rebirth I: Consciousness — the world’s first truly immersive virtual experience.
As I stood to return my headset to the shelf, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I waved at it. It waved back.
See you around, clone.
