FILE PHOTO: A still of “Avatar” depicts the Na’vi ritual where the consciousness of the hero is transferred from his human body to an Avatar body, raising the possibility of immortality within the universe.

Simulating, editing, and even overcoming the finitude of life reflect impulses that are at once irrepressible and deeply contested. Global science fiction (sci-fi) narratives nurture these impulses, functioning as a kaleidoscope of humanity’s imagination about life. Among the many visions they present, five recur with particular frequency: biomimesis, artificial creation, resurrection, reincarnation, and immortality. Broadly speaking, biomimesis and artificial creation aim to imitate life, whereas resurrection, reincarnation, and immortality seek to transform it. Within these discussions, sci-fi offers thought experiments that invite readers to reflect on human existence and the future.

Biomimesis

Biomimesis refers to the imitation of human life’s functions and expressions. The impulse to endow machines with such capacities arises from an anthropocentric obsession: Measuring everything against ourselves. In sci-fi, this mindset often involves the demand that robots evolve to become human. Hiroshi Yamamoto’s “The Day Shion Came” satirizes precisely this desire: The robot Shion observes that it cannot understand why Astro Boy would want to become human, emphasizing that such a wish is merely a story invented by humans.

In the history of human culture, imagining and constructing machines in the likeness of humans is far from rare. The singing-and-dancing automaton in the ancient Taoist text Liezi embodies biomimetic thought, its bodily design and mechanical functions corresponding directly to those of real humans. Eighteenth-century Europe’s automata represent another stage of biomimetic engineering—albeit one that remained at a superficial level.

The relationship between humans and biomimetic machines is thus one of functional resemblance but ontological difference. Humanity seeks machines—or digital doubles—to better perceive its own essence and explore its boundaries. In the broad trajectory of cultural history, biomimesis has progressed from simulating the body, to intelligence, and finally to emotion. Philosophical, scientific, and fictional thought experiments such as René Descartes’s “Cogito, ergo sum,” the Turing Test, and the Voight-Kampff Test all mirror shifting self-understandings and zeitgeists, highlighting distinctly human qualities while prompting reflection on the boundaries of intelligence and emotion. In “The Bicentennial Man,” Andrew imitates human appearance, organs, and emotions, but ultimately chooses death in order to gain recognition as human—mortality itself becoming the ultimate passport to humanity. His acceptance into the World Congress thus signals the need to re-examine the very definition and boundaries of being human.

Artificial creation

Artificial creation refers to generating life through asexual or alternative means of reproduction. Like biomimesis, it usually relies on fabrication rather than biological birth, but with the distinct aim of producing life itself. Myths of the homunculus in European folklore and the golem in Jewish tradition are classic tales of artificial beings, while Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein inaugurates modern narratives of artificial creation. Since the latter half of the 20th century, advances in biotechnology have inspired new visions of artificial creation, often in the form of androids, clones, and hybrids.

Artificial creation inevitably raises ethical questions. Within the Christian tradition, God did not grant humans the authority to create their own kind, so attempts at creation easily provoke moral controversy. Different cultures frame these questions within distinct religious and ethical contexts. Japanese scientist Makoto Nishimura, for example, built a humanoid robot but rejected the term “robota”—with its associations of servitude in Karel Capek’s R.U.R., or Rossum’s Universal Robots—in favor of Gakutensoku, meaning “learning from natural law.” In his view, humans are children of nature; artificial humans are its grandchildren. Within this conceptual framework, fantasies of robotic rebellion lose their plausibility.

Reincarnation

Reincarnation here denotes transformations of the living state. It enables humans to transcend bodily or physical constraints, thereby advancing the prospect of life extension or even immortality. Chinese traditions of reincarnation run deep—Taoist visions of attaining transcendence through cultivation are but one example. In contemporary contexts, reincarnation is expressed as the technological editing, augmentation, or transformation of the self. Consciousness transfer, as seen in “Avatar,” also falls within this paradigm.

Reincarnation may involve minor adjustments to body or mind—through genome editing, brain–machine interfaces, or cyborgization—or it may entail radical transformations, treating life as something transmedial and trans-corporeal. In Mind Children, Hans Moravec views the body as an interchangeable container for consciousness, envisioning thought-cloning and mind-uploading. Sci-fi abounds with diverse reincarnation scenarios, and digital reincarnation has become a subject of real-world debate. Yet the concept remains contested: N. Katherine Hayles, in How We Became Posthuman, critiques Moravec’s idea of the separation of mind from body and his information-centered model of life.

In sci-fi narratives, reincarnation may appear as either an individual coping strategy or a blueprint for humanity’s future. The opening of the film “The Wandering Earth II,” with its portrayal of a “digital life program,” illustrates the latter. Narratives of reincarnation often intersect with politics of life and gender. In “Upload,” for instance, Nathan’s involuntary upload into a digital afterlife places his every move under constant surveillance and control. Cross-species reincarnation also appears, as in Ken Liu’s “Good Hunting,” which depicts transfigurations among humans, animals, and machines, while dramatizing tensions between magic and technology, men and women, and colonizers and the colonized.

Resurrection

Resurrection, or rebirth, signifies the restoration of life for a deceased individual. As part of the broader phenomenon of “post-death,” resurrection embodies technological resistance to, deconstruction of, or subversion of traditional death. While genuine resurrection is not yet possible, “digital resurrection” has already become a hotly debated issue. Based on the deceased’s writings and images, such practices simulate their outward presence—like a dotted line extending the punctuation mark of life, producing digital doubles and illusions of rebirth. These surrogates serve as mnemonic tools and emotional supports for the bereaved, helping them reorient their feelings. Such “resurrections,” however, cannot reproduce consciousness or enable reciprocal interaction; their core function lies in maintaining affective bonds.

In contrast to the digital illusions produced by contemporary technologies, sci-fi has already developed numerous thought experiments on resurrection, often focusing on the conditions of human existence and the experience of life once such technologies are realized. Works such as Niuniu and “Terminally On” explore the potential consequences of bringing loved ones back to life, highlighting both the therapeutic benefits and ethical hazards: Deception, dependency, manipulation, and commodification. Some narratives also depict individuals seeking their own resurrection. In “Brush Up Life,” the protagonist relives her existence repeatedly, discovering meaning in the ordinariness and contingency of life.

Immortality

Immortality refers to the perpetual continuation of physical existence or the indefinite endurance of consciousness. Alongside reincarnation and resurrection, it dismantles the conventional binary of life and death, linking directly to post-death existence and transhumanist aspirations. All three reshape human self-understanding and conceptions of life, giving rise to ethical dilemmas, yet they differ in significant ways. While reincarnation emphasizes transformation, and resurrection revival, immortality stresses continuity—the persistence of being once temporal and corporeal finitude have been overcome. Immortality sometimes depends on the vital leap or transformation of life enabled by reincarnation, while resurrection at times serves as a reset within immortality. In the short drama “San Junipero,” for instance, reincarnation takes the form of Yorkie entering the virtual paradise “San Junipero;” resurrection occurs when her consciousness is revived there after bodily death; immortality is realized through her continued existence within that digital world.

At present, technology enables only one-way digital archiving and non-subjective simulated interaction, whereas theoretical consciousness-based immortality would entail reciprocal communication between the immortalized subject and the original world.

Immortality has long appeared in premodern belief systems, but contemporary visions rest on faith in technological progress. Ray Kurzweil, in The Singularity is Near and The Singularity is Nearer, depicts immortality through consciousness uploading: Transferring the human “software” onto non-biological substrates, thereby eliminating dependence on the body’s “hardware.” This approach rests entirely on a computational model of life—just as 18th-century thinkers questioned whether humans were composed of mere mechanical parts, today we may ask whether humans are reducible to data and computation.

Though technological immortality remains far from achievable, its ethical dilemmas are pressing. Francis Fukuyama, in Our Posthuman Future, asks: Will people cling desperately to lives extended by biotechnology, or will they find endless life unbearably empty? Mary Shelley’s The Immortal Mortal had already staged a negative response: Winzy, ageless yet tormented, becomes a monster, an outsider, and a threat to order—condemned to suffer the burden of eternal life.

From biomimesis to immortality, the spectrum of life visions emerges from a techno-optimistic impulse. They function not only as thought experiments in simulating or transforming humanity but also frameworks through which people envision and plan their future. If such trajectories prove irreversible, then in the presence of cyborgs, robots, or digital beings, humans must learn to situate themselves anew—psychologically, ethically, and emotionally—to avoid alienation or feeling lost in an otherwise familiar world. Sci-fi narratives, though not more adept than technology or philosophy at charting the human future, enable us to rehearse diverse, polyphonic, and critical narrative experiments. Through these rehearsals, we cultivate resilience against the uncertainties of what is yet to come.

Cheng Lin is a professor from the Institute of Foreign Literature and Culture at Guangdong University of Foreign Studies.