We are all on a one-way trip to a known destination. This life ends for each of us. See Hopelessness and the American Middle Class (April 2017). We can strive to exercise some degree of control in the speed of our demise, but the result is ultimately a predetermined eventuality—"death and taxes," as some luminary proposed.
Death comes for us all. That realization comes to each of us, and has been reinforced for me recently with the persistence of notifications. And there are implications, both professional, see How to Transition Cases upon the Death of Counsel (December 2014), and personal, see What is a Donor? (August 2025).
In addition, there are multiple thoughts on related topics like Who Should Live? (January 2023), and the incredible volume of people who die of avoidable circumstances like overdose, see What Worthwhile Can You do in 11.2 Minutes (December 2015). Reflecting on these and other posts, it occurs to me I have focused on death more than a few times.
In 2010, the idea of death was humorized on The Big Bang Theory, The Cruciferous Vegetable Amplification (September 30, 2010). There, the protagonist, Sheldon, "works out that he won't live long enough to download his consciousness into a robot." That is his plan for immortality.
Sheldon considers the longevity demonstrated by his family, and predicts his own life expectancy. He explains to his friends that he must improve his diet in order to live long enough for this potential to be a reality. He refers to it as "the singularity."
He contends that date will be in 2045, or roughly 35 years after that 2010 episode. The show was entertaining and educational. Its spinoff, Young Sheldon, actually had a guest spot by Elon Musk. That was a play on re-using rockets and is good for a laugh.
In an odd coincidence (or not) Mr. Musk was recently asked about the potential to achieve "eternal life" through uploading our individual consciousness to a robotic vessel. This would be one step beyond the artificial intelligence "scraping" of our every thought and expression today.
Benzinga reports that Mr. Musk sees uploading as a real potential due to the convergence of two technologies, humanoid robots and the brain implant called Neurolink. He postulates that the link could be used to "upload a digital copy of your mind—memories, thoughts, personality quirks" to a robot. If possible to a robot, why not to a simple harddrive?
Immortality. Artificial, but immortality nonetheless.
By 2045 as postulated by The Big Bank? Mr. Musk, in November 2025, postulated, "Less than 20 years from now, it may be possible." Now, there may be a coincidence in the two of them hitting a similar timeline (or Mr. Musk might be a fan of the show). But the simple prediction remains that many of today's Earth residents might be uploaded.
The idea of keeping Judge Langham around forever in a robot might unnerve more than a few of us. And there might be others whose preservation might concern us even more. Would this be limited to a single person(ality) to a single hard drive, or might a single computer house thousands of us like blog posts, documents, or recordings?
The implications are mind-blowing. If there are thousands of us together on some drive or network, could we communicate, collaborate, or commiserate? Would we want to? Would our preferences matter?
Would that preserved "snapshot" be a permanent record of who I was at that moment? Or would it merely serve as a foundation for something different or perhaps more? Might the computer me of tomorrow be a combination of computer me of today plus new experiences, thoughts, and exposures of the computer?
Would the uploaded "snapshot" remain static, or would it evolve and grow? If it evolves, when would it cease to be me? When do I cease to be me?
To say this is all fascinating is an understatement of epic proportions. The potentials and questions seem as infinite as the possiblities. Would we be compensated, or merely scraped like our blogs?




















