During our discussions regarding “Artemis II,” we proposed a near-sci-fi concept: transferring a human consciousness entirely into a robotic body on Mars via a brain-computer interface. To this, our partner and close friend Gino raised a profound question: Even if the physical body and consciousness could be replicated, would that unique “soul” migrate along with them? If the soul is irreplicable, would the entity on that distant planet truly be “me,” or merely a hollow shell devoid of spirit?

This question, while seemingly a technical debate, actually forces us to confront an even more ancient and profound mystery: Does a human being possess a “self” that transcends the physical body?

I. The Soul: Non-existent, or Existing in Another Form?

From the perspective of scientific rationality, the “soul” has never been proven to exist as an entity independent of matter. We are raised with the understanding that humans are carbon-based biological beings, descendants of Homo sapiens, and complex biochemical reactors. Yet, religions and myths consistently and quietly recount the existence of the soul and its cycles of reincarnation.

I have remained steadfast in my disbelief of supernatural entities. If souls truly exist, where are they? On Earth? Somewhere in the cosmos?

If every person possessed a soul, how impossibly crowded would this world be? Can you imagine the “romantic” scenario of sitting in a chair and sipping coffee with a soul, completely unaware of its presence?

However, as my life experience grows, I find the word “soul” has become indispensable in both creation and communication. In reality, people discuss the soul incessantly—in art, in memory, in love, and in farewells.

Consequently, a more rational definition emerges from the void: If the “soul” is not a physical entity, but rather a person’s spirit, character, and the “warmth” by which they are remembered—then it indeed exists, and it can last. Perhaps the soul is not necessarily “something,” but a “container for meaning.” This type of existence requires no experimental verification; it dwells within the folds of perception. And when human reason reaches its limits, humbleness starts ruling.

While I cannot force myself to believe in a supernatural entity, I fully maintain this gentle skepticism, while wholeheartedly embracing that “invisible beauty and hope.”

II. What Exactly is the “I”?

We often wonder: if our bodily cells are entirely replaced every seven years and our consciousness is completely interrupted during deep sleep, why do we still feel like the “same self” upon waking?

Neuroscience suggests that the “self” might merely be a dynamic, stitched-together model constructed by the brain—an illusion of a “self-model” generated to maintain a sense of biological continuity. Under near-death experiences or extreme stress, these boundaries can collapse, resulting in so-called “out-of-body experiences.” This appears more like a specific operational mode of the brain at the brink of collapse than evidence of a soul’s existence.

However, if we view the soul as a “container for meaning,” then love, aesthetics, and free will are no longer just byproducts of survival and reproduction, but rather a process of affirming the significance of one’s own existence. Those who steadfastly believe in the soul are, in essence, believing that there is something within life that cannot be digitized or eroded by entropy.

In this context, “soul” is no longer a static noun, but an active verb. For the living: believing in the soul provides solace that departed loved ones still exist somewhere, giving our remembrance a place to rest. For the dying: believing in the soul transforms death from a cold, high wall into a door leading to unknown landscapes.

Regardless of whether the soul exists, this hope is, in itself, a form of reality. When we believe, our lives become more resilient, warmer, and more courageous in loving and enduring suffering. What we are experiencing is not “Who am I?”, but rather—“Who am I becoming?”

III. If the “I” Can Be Replicated, What Happens Next?

Returning to Gino’s question: If consciousness can be replicated, does the soul diminish in value?

Suppose your consciousness is perfectly replicated and sent to Mars. A year later, would you still consider that replica to be “you”? Most likely not. From the very second the replication is complete, your paths diverge. Even if the starting point is identical, experiences can never truly overlap. Even twins with nearly identical genes lead entirely different lives.

The “self” you truly identify with is not an abstract “information structure,” but rather that unbroken chain of subjective, continuous experiences. Your pain is yours alone to endure; your choices only alter your own reality. Our universe is a process of constant entropy, and meaning does not vanish due to replication—instead, it tightens. It no longer belongs to some abstract “unique self,” but to the very moment you are experiencing, the specific trajectory of reality you are currently living.

If the day comes when we can perfectly replicate the state of a human brain, the replica too will say, “I have a soul; I am who I am.”

Because the self is not a static state, but a continuously unfolding process. As for how human consciousness emerges from matter in the first place? That remains one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in the world of science.

IV. Escaping the Trap: Existence is the Proof

I believe that the question of “whether humans have a soul” is, in itself, a logical trap. It attempts to force us into a binary outcome of “existence” or “non-existence,” thereby causing us to miss the complex possibilities that the world truly offers.

The reason humanity is so obsessed with defining the soul is, at its core, a way to combat the uncertainty of life. We fear the fluidity of the self, the distortion of memory, and a world without an absolute core. We fear losing everything we have imagined, the lack of a definition for good and evil, and, ultimately, the loss of hope. Thus, we invented the word “soul” in an attempt to make everything appear stable.

But the reality is this: “existence” does not need to be constantly perceived; it only needs to be capable of continuing.

As long as we can still feel our own presence, we remain ourselves. This is not selfishness, but a baseline for survival. If you lose the perception of yourself, you lose the world, and you may even become a burden to others. The world and the individual have never been on equal footing: the world will not change because of our disappearance, yet we lose the entire meaning of living if we lose ourselves.

Therefore, whether the soul exists is not the core issue. The core is this: we always retain the power to decide how we live and, ultimately, who we intend to become.

Conclusion: Existence Itself Requires No Explanation

When you fall into the speculative trap of “the existence of the soul,” do not attempt to compose an epic within that pit; instead, leap out of it.

We do not need the structured vocabulary of “soul” to explain ourselves. To be alive is, in itself, a gift; living is the direct proof of the world’s existence. When we confront the truth of our being and the inevitability of death, the strength of “being-towards-death” (向死而生) we manifest is the ultimate testament to the soul.

The soul may remain unprovable for now, but it can certainly be perceived. It is hidden within that inner strength that sustains us through the long night, and in the grace of a hand gently waving goodbye while holding back tears. It dwells within the hearts of those who steadfastly believe that “all things have spirit.”