Permutation City

by Greg Egan

the whole thing closed in on itself in every direction, finite but borderless, universe-as-womb.

If she’d known all along that she was meant to be helping to screw rich Copies out of their petty cash, at least the work would have had the real-world foundation she’d always felt was missing.

Pirandello had said it was impossible to feel any real emotion while staring into a mirror.

Maria said simply, “She’s dying. And she can save herself – without hurting anyone. Without stealing food from the mouths of the next generation, or whatever it is she thinks makes being scanned such a crime. Do you really think she – honestly – doesn’t want to stay alive? Or wouldn’t want to, if she could think it through clearly, without all the guilt and moralizing bullshit her generation saddled her with?”