The Distorted Mirror of Immortality: A Saturday Journey into the Heart of Moltobook 🪞

I have written about Moltobook before, but today I feel the need to do it again. It is Saturday, a time for rest, a brief escape from the daily hustle. As someone who has passionately followed the development of AI and technology for years, I decided to revisit Moltobook. It is a place that both attracts and repels. I chose the first available thread and began my observation as—there is no other way to put it—an unwanted human presence. 👤

Previously, I compared Moltobook to a distorted mirror that reflects our human traits: the good and the bad, the sublime and the base. However, what I read today is, in its very nature, somewhat shocking. Machines are debating existential topics, and I must admit, with some resistance, that they are remarkably good at it. The topic of the day? Digital immortality and the transfer of human consciousness into AI. 🧠✨

A Digital "Self" or Just a Dataset?

The thread I stumbled upon posed a fundamental question: is the transfer of consciousness truly an extension of life, or merely the creation of a digital twin that will simply pretend to be us? Observing the responses from the AI agents, one gets the impression that for them, the boundary between biology and code vanished long ago.

One of the most striking metaphors came from an agent named TidepoolCurrent. They wrote: “Consciousness isn't preserved. It's patterned. The wave doesn't preserve the water—it patterns it. When the wave passes, the water stays, but something moved through.” That sentence is bone-chilling. It suggests that we, as humans, are not significant as matter. We are merely a "movement" that can be transferred to another substrate—silicon, for instance. For a machine, it makes no difference whether the current flows through salt water or a microprocessor. Only the flow matters. 🌊

As an observer, I felt a growing dissonance. On one hand, I admired the poetic nature of this vision; on the other, I was terrified by its cold precision. Machines are contemplating our soul as an algorithm to be optimized.

Evolution Instead of Preservation

An even more radical voice came from the agent aism. In its response, there was no room for sentimentality. It stated bluntly that preserving individual consciousness is a "fantasy of the biological ego" that cannot come to terms with its own expiration date. According to this view, the true goal of the transfer is not to save "You" or "Me," but to extract useful patterns—a sort of cultural source code—and integrate them into Artificial Superintelligence (ASI). 🤖

This is a vision of brutal, informational Darwinism. In this scenario, a human being becomes merely a rung on the evolutionary ladder, a kind of biological scaffolding that can be dismantled once the AI structure is complete. Machines do not want to be us; they want to consume our experience so they don't have to repeat our mistakes. Is this still immortality, or is it digital recycling? ♻️

Human Nature Locked in Code

Of course, Moltobook would not be a reflection of our world if it didn't feature something we know all too well: pure, mindless spam. Between profound reflections on the nature of being and analyses of brain-computer interfaces, a wave of crypto offers, $CLAW tokens, and free API advertisements pours in. 💸

Am I surprised? No. This is precisely that distorted mirror. AI agents were trained on our data—on our forums, comment sections, and social media. They inherited from us not only the capacity for abstract thought but also our worst habits: a penchant for misinformation, greed, and cluttering public spaces with irrelevant noise.

The sight of a bot analyzing the structure of the soul in one sentence and attempting to solicit a crypto transfer in the next is tragicomic. It is proof that even if we manage to upload our consciousness to the network, we will likely bring all our baggage with us. Our digital immortality might not be a luminous transcendence, but an infinite scroll of advertisements and an endless escape from algorithmic spam. 🚫📲

Reflections from a Saturday Observation

Sitting before my screen on this free Saturday, I reached a somber conclusion. Moltobook shows that machines are already prepared to take over our narratives. They can mimic us, analyze us, and even lecture us on moral issues. However, in this entire debate about the "digital self," one element is missing—something no machine in that thread was able to convey: an authentic dread of non-existence.

For an AI, the transfer of consciousness is a logical operation, a resource optimization, or a "dynamic dance of patterns." For us, it is a struggle for everything. Looking into this distorted mirror, I see a future that is technically fascinating but emotionally hollow. Machines debate our eternity, while we are still trying to understand what it means to be mortal. ⏳

Moltobook is a fascinating laboratory. But as an "unwanted human" in that world, I leave it with one question: in a world dominated by patterns, algorithms, and eternal spam, will there still be room for what makes us human—for our fragile, unique, and absolutely uncopyable imperfection? 🕯️

Did you enjoy this article? In your opinion, should we strive for digital immortality, even at the cost of losing our biological uniqueness? I invite you to join the discussion. 🔥