BUET '15 batch entrance day magazine 1 | Page 146

Science Fiction Theseus -Mursalin Habib, CSE I am the only person in the world who doesn't know if I am me or not. I understand that you are curious so let me tell you my story. I have told this story more times than I can remember and for you I’ll do it once more. I was seventeen when I was diagnosed with the Disease. The Disease is, as you can probably tell, a disease. The doctors don't call it that though. They have a different name for it. But for some reason I can never seem to remember that. I don’t remember anything from before my diagnosis either. Forgive me; my memory is not as strong as it used to be. I am not sure if the memories I have are even mine anymore. This is one of the byproducts of living with the Disease. You start to question if anything at all belongs to you. Here’s a quick rundown of how the Disease works. First your entire body gets discolored. Then your cells start to disintegrate. Every one of them. Even the brain cells - the cells that arguably make you you. The cells decay literally right before your eyes. Do you know how it feels like to see your body decay right in front you? It feels like losing yourself in the most literal sense possible. It's not pleasant. The Disease spreads itself very fast. In a year or so, the patient is pretty much dead. So how am I alive, you ask? It’s because I’ve been treated. I’m being treated right now as I speak. I am the only person in the world to be treated for the Disease. Or so I’ve been told. The premise of this treatment is quite simple in principle: replace every decaying cell with a new one. This idea is not anything new. In fact this is quite similar to something they used to do back in the day called ‘organ transplant’ but only slightly less messy and done with cells instead of organs. As a method of treatment, it’s not pleasant but at least it works. I’ve been being treated for quite a while and I’m pretty sure that every cell in my body has died at least once by now. I’m completely brand new in some sense and I should be happy. But I’m not. I apologize for going off on a slight tangent here but I presume you’re familiar with the Ship of Theseus? It is a thought experiment that asks whether something that has had all of its components replaced remains fundamentally the same thing or not. Some Greek guy called Theseus had a ship that he used a lot. As a result, it required lots of repairs. Eventually through countless repair jobs, every single part of the ship was replaced. The question that was raised was quite a puzzling one: was the ship in question still Theseus’ old ship or was it a new one since none of the parts of the original ship even existed any more? You see, I am a living and breathing version of Theseus’ ship. Just like Theseus’ ship, nothing in my body belongs to me anymore. But if nothing belongs to me, am I even myself? What makes me me anyway? 140