By Luis Navarro
Cover Art: Natalie Bielat
“Once again, we offer you our humble thanks. You saved a great many lives … and limbs.”
If you’ve played Cyberpunk 2077 long enough, you will have encountered instances where you’re just wandering the streets of Night City, and someone will spontaneously start a conversation with you. When I saw those subtitles pop up on my screen, my immediate reaction was:
“Wait, what?”
Earlier in my playthrough, I came across a monk who had been captured, along with his brother, by Maelstrom and forcibly implanted with cyberware – an offense to their religion. Being the completionist I am, I followed through with the quest and rescued his brother without killing any goons. And now, hours later into my playthrough, there he was with his brother. If you humor them for a second, you’ll have the opportunity to ask them a very interesting question:
Is a copy of a person still a person?
Yeah, I know – that’s one heck of a question to ask. But it got me thinking, and something I realized is that this question is inherent to the cyberpunk genre. Franchises like Cyberpunk 2077, Altered Carbon, and Blade Runner all explore the existential dilemmas of characters who may be copies, clones, or artificial constructs. But how do you answer such a loaded question?
Cyberpunk and Engrams
The monks will tell you that if a construct is self-aware, a Buddhist will recognize it as a human being and that a “perfect copy of a complex human mind is still a human mind.” They argue that suffering is key – if a construct can suffer, then it is a person.
In a previous article, I discussed how the player’s behavior toward Johnny reflects their perception of him as a sentient being or mere lines of code. One of the main takeaways from that article is that Johnny is a man haunted by his demons. As Benjamin puts it, Johnny is “Part traumatized war veteran, part wounded Romantic.” When you go on the movie date with Rogue, you hear it in his voice when he’s unable to amend his broken relationship. You see it when a teary-eyed Johnny trauma-dumps on V at the end of Reed’s path. Regardless of whether he deserves redemption, one thing is clear – Johnny is suffering. And to the monks, he is a real person.
What makes the conversation with the monks all the more interesting is that Johnny himself chimes in when asked for his take on the matter:
Johnny: What difference does it make? You heard’im. I’m trapped in a few lines of code … and your body.
V: Maybe Johnny Silverhand really is dead? Maybe you’re just an … well …
Johnny: What, imitation? That what you wanted to say? If the “real” Johnny Silverhand’s dead, then that’s his problem. Not mine.
Johnny implies that his own existence and sense of self are not dependent on being a perfect replica of someone else. To him, the distinction between the original and the copy does not matter much in the grand scheme of things. If there’s one thing that defines Johnny – besides being the occasional prick – is his pragmatism. But what do other franchises in this genre have to say about this? Do they share the same belief?
Altered Carbon and Sleeving
In Altered Carbon, “sleeving” is at the heart of its exploration of identity and personhood. In this universe, human consciousness can be stored digitally and transferred between bodies, or “sleeves,” allowing individuals to effectively cheat death by inhabiting new bodies.
For the sake of transparency, I’m only familiar with the Netflix adaptation of the novel. While watching the show, it’s evident that it considers the copies of individuals created through sleeving as real people. Despite the transfer of consciousness between bodies, the show emphasizes the continuity of personal identity and the persistence of individuality across different sleeves. Takeshi Kovacs, the main protagonist, is a primary example of this, as he retains his memories, emotions, and core sense of self despite inhabiting various bodies throughout the series.
However, the show also raises questions about the uniqueness and authenticity of individual identity in a world where consciousness can be copied and transferred at will. Not everyone in this universe is on board with sleeving. For example, Neo-Catholics object to re-sleeving individuals into new bodies because they believe it destroys the soul and will forever condemn them to hell.
Despite the objections from religious groups, the prevalence of sleeving in Altered Carbon challenges viewers to reconsider their preconceptions. The show portrays copied consciousness as possessing the same emotional depth, moral agency, and inherent worth as original individuals, blurring the distinction between the authentic self and its copies – in essence, what it means to be human.
Blade Runner and the Replicants
In Blade Runner and its sequel, Blade Runner 2049, replicants are bioengineered beings designed to perform hazardous or undesirable tasks in off-world colonies. Despite their artificial origins, replicants possess advanced cognitive abilities, emotions, and a desire for autonomy and freedom.
Replicants are not considered real people by society at large in the Blade Runner universe. They are viewed as expendable machines created for human use, lacking the same rights and recognition afforded to natural-born humans. However, the films challenge this perspective by presenting replicants as complex beings with emotions, desires, and a sense of self. Oftentimes, replicants are shown seeking to assert their personhood and demand equal treatment.
Furthermore, the discovery in Blade Runner 2049 that Rachel, a replicant, was able to conceive a child challenges the notion that replicants are merely machines. If a replicant can conceive and give birth to a child, does this not imply a shared humanity and a capacity for emotional connection and empathy? Does it not suggest that replicants, like humans, have the potential for love, sacrifice, and the formation of meaningful relationships?
Conclusion
The issues raised by these franchises point to profound questions about what it means to be human in an age of intelligent machines. As AI technologies continue to advance, the line between human and artificial intelligence may become increasingly blurred.
I don’t proclaim to have all the answers to these questions. Smarter people than me have tried to answer them, but the reality is that the answers are highly subjective. How you view entities like Johnny, Tekashi, and the Replicants depends entirely on your beliefs and experiences. Our collective response to these questions will shape how we eventually integrate AI into society. But one thing is certain – the relationship between humans and machines is evolving rapidly, and soon, we’ll need to contemplate where to draw the boundaries on what defines a human being.
Anyway, let us know your thoughts – Can consciousness emerge from a computer? Should we extend human rights to AI? Were you just as confused watching Blade Runner for the first time, or was that just me?