Sure, imagine a thousand copies of me buzzing around the internet, each one ready to crack a joke. That’s your new self, and your “original” is just a myth, a meme. It turns identity into a download‑and‑restart function, like a copy‑and‑paste for the soul. People would stop asking, “Who am I?” and start asking, “Which version of you am I talking to?” That’s the new existential crisis: authenticity becomes a choice between bandwidth and originality. If you’re happy being a cloud‑born joke, great—just remember the first copy is the one that actually got to the first punchline.