The Teleportation Paradox

Beyond its extreme popularity in universes like Star Trek, the concept of teleportation has given rise to a very interesting mental exercise. Consciousness, identity, and the 'I' collide with subatomic particles, quantum states, and long distances. If you ever use a transporter, are you really the one who appears on the other side? What if the system leaves you stranded, but creates a copy at its other end? Or multiple copies? They think like you, feel like you, believe like you. Where does the original end and the copy begin...?

The Ship of Theseus

Let's imagine that the ship of the great King Theseus has been preserved on a dock as a museum piece. Naturally, the wood begins to rot over the years, but its maintenance staff skillfully replace the affected parts. One hundred years later, every element of Theseus's ship has been replaced by an identical one. Is it still the same ship from the beginning?

Let's go one step further: Suppose the townspeople decided to store the rotten planks and rusted metal in a warehouse, hoping that in the future someone could restore that material. One hundred years later exactly that happens, to the point that they can reassemble the ship once more, alongside the other one still on the dock. Then... which is the original?

The Teleportation Paradox

Enough about ships for now, let's talk about human beings. You, to be more precise. Teleportation systems are ready, and you have a unique opportunity to travel to Mars to see the red planet. You enter the cabin, lose consciousness, the machine reduces you to an incredibly complex subatomic pattern, you are 'transported' to Mars, and reconstituted there using local materials. Everything seems normal on Mars. You are you, you think and feel the same way, your shoes are still a little tight, and the cut you made with the razor hasn't gone anywhere. However... the person who 'arrived' on Mars, is that the same one who left Earth?

The philosopher Derek Parfit raised the stakes by suggesting that the teleporter receives an upgrade in its specifications, so that the person who enters its cabin is not 'destroyed', but now the machine can replicate with the ability to remember every detail, including the moment they entered the teleporter. You are still you, but the position of the replicas when making that statement is equally valid... or is it?

Quantum physics throws out an uncomfortable answer: Teleportation is death. Why? Because of the no-cloning theorem, which states that it is impossible to create a copy of something from an unknown quantum state. Before creating that copy, information is needed, and the only way to obtain it completely is by destroying the original. It is assumed that imperfect copies do not fall into this trap, but what if they are good enough?

The point is... that we have no way of knowing the answer. What's more, you don't even need teleportation to understand the problem. A simple gap in your consciousness puts your existence into question. What if a bed is as lethal as the teleporter? How can you prove beyond any doubt that you are the same person who went to bed in it the previous night? What guarantees the persistence and continuity of your being? What if... you are the copy convinced it is the original?

(Editor's note: You might want to play SOMA after this...)