All Souls' Day

I

"What if every night you go to sleep you wake up as someone else?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she replied with a smirk, before taking a sip of her gin.

"I mean, how do you know you didn't, like... die? And maybe the only reason you think you're the same person is because you inherit all these memories. Like the ones that come with your brain."

"But if I'm dead, what memories?"

"No, okay, like... Okay, so imagine that this morning when you woke up. That was the start of your existence. You just think you're however old you are—"

"Twenty-six."

"Huh?"

"That's my age. Twenty-six." She gave him a wink as she took another sip, before resting her head back down on her fist. Her arm wobbled a bit, as she belched silently.

"Uh..." he replied and gave her an awkward chuckle. Her mature features and subtle crow's feet betrayed a woman somewhere in her mid 30's, and they both knew her profile read 36. "Right, right, heh. Well, anyways... So, the reason you remember this whole life before today is because of this brain you have now. Your consciousness inherits your memories, your personality, and everything else about you from your body—your brain mostly. But in reality, you—your consciousness—didn't come into being until this morning. And when you go to sleep tonight, you're going to die, and someone else's consciousness takes over your body. And that person will just think that they're you, and so on."

"Okay, so...?"

"So... I mean, that's like the hard problem of consciousness right there. We can't ever really know if qualia remains consistent over time or if it exists in others. I mean, we certainly seem to think we exist. Cogito ergo sum and all that. But, I mean... have you ever heard about the ship of Theseus?"

"Look, I gotta be honest here, Phil. I have had way too many drinks for all this Latin and... conscious... whatever."

"Theseus was Greek, actually."

She rolled her eyes. "I was talking about—hic—that quote from, uh... what's his—Dali? No! Des Cartes! Des Cartes."

"Ah, so you have some familiarity with existentialism."

Another eye roll. "Basic shit, Phil. High Sch—hic—High School Social Studies. You're gonna have to try harder, Mr. Smarty Pants."

"Heh..." he replied, before quickly changing the subject. "Did I mention I like your outfit? Great costume."

She looked down to her skin tight black suit and caressed herself with her clawed fingers, before reaching up and fondling the little black cat ears attached to her headband. "So you like pussy after all, eh?"

They both exchanged lecherous laughter and a knowing gaze. He liked a woman who knew how to tease, and she certainly enjoyed doing it.

"Feel like taking off?" he said with a smile, gesturing to the door with his thumb.

"I thought you'd never ask..."