33 lines
1.9 KiB
HTML
33 lines
1.9 KiB
HTML
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<!doctype html>
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<html>
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<head>
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<title>Zk | 016</title>
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<link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Gentium+Plus&family=Lato&family=Ubuntu+Monodisplay=swap" />
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<body>
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<main>
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<header>
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<h1>Zk | 016</h1>
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</header>
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<article class="content">
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<p>There was a strange sort of distance involved with my life as a cladist, just by virtue of the ways in which my world worked. It was a constant, something that I’d noticed shortly after uploading, something that had stuck with me ever since. It shouldn’t be the case that I would feel distance from what I was doing just because a fork was off doing something else in my stead, right? I would be getting all of their memories, after all. Everything they experienced would be come something that I would experience, too.</p>
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<p>And the memories here on the System were something far more than what they were back phys-side. Yes, they were imperfect: they collected the same sorts of impressions, attached the same amount of meaning and emotion to time and place. They were eternal, though. I could browse back through the life that I’d lived as Reed and as Marsh before that and pull together as exact a picture of what had happened as though it had happened only some hours ago.</p>
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<p>There </p>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2023-12-27</p>
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