Cogito Ergo Sum
Title: Cogito Ergo Sum
Author: Pidge
Rating: PG
Warnings: philosophy. Pidge's excuse for studying.
Characters: Francis Bonnefoy and Renée Descartes.
Summary: A ghost and a philosopher walk into a bar.
Francis opened his mouth, stopped, frowned, and closed it again.
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.” he admitted with a shrug. The smokey air of the bar dimmed his view of the man across from him, but the candle light revealed enough. A dark haired fellow of impressive intellect, considering they’d met while Francis was wandering the grounds of a local university. However, even the greatest of minds became a little incoherent after five glasses of wine.
“My friend, you are being deliberately dense.” the man said airily. “You know Plato, correct?”
Francis snorted, on his sixth glass himself. “Not personally, René. He was a bit before my time.”
“Yes, yes, yes, but you know of his philosophy.”
He was getting annoyed, so Francis wracked his brain. Well, technically it wasn’t his brain, but that was besides the point. “The forms?”
“Exactly.” A boney finger circled the rim of his wine glass. The side of his hand was smudged with ink. He’d been bemoaning earlier the prevalence of writing in university. Claimed he’d rather learn from the world than books. Quite brilliantly mad. “What Plato called a ‘form’ would be what we modern philosophers call a soul.”
“Didn’t Plato think everything had a ‘form’, though? If you suggest that all things have a soul... well, that sounds almost pagan, if you ask me.” Francis smirked, and his companion returned it.
“He was pagan, a Greek polytheist. But you’re distracting me from the point.”
“Not hard when you’re this drunk.”
“Oh, quiet. I’m not drunk, I’m merry.” He leaned forward with a serious look. “What is your opinion on the soul, my friend?”
Francis froze, wine glass half way to his lips.
“... why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because it’s interesting.” René shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of death, Francis.”
Francis made no answer. His newly acquired friend continued without him.
“A few of my fellow philosophers have claimed that, on the day of Christ’s return, the righteous shall be resurrected.” Waves of dark hair fell over his shoulder when he shook his head. “While I understand and appreciate their faithfulness to the church and the holy books, I’d rather not come back in flesh to this earth. Certainly not to my original body, rotted in the ground. Or anywhere, for that matter. In the event of resurrection or life after death, when God’s perfect kingdom returns, a physical body would be inappropriate. Bodies, in their nature, are imperfect, easily damaged and mortal. Which brings me back to Plato and the soul.” His eyes were hazel, Francis suddenly noticed, and sparkling with inspiration. “The soul is a separate thing from the body. As Plato would say, it is the form of the person. A perfect existence.”
Francis was going to say something about how being a soul without a body to feel with or a brain to organise thoughts and memories with wasn’t as great as René thought, but then he would have to confess to his friend that he was in fact the ghost of a dead man possessing the body of a suicidal university student.
Instead, he just hummed in an interested manner.
“So how do you separate the function of the body from that of the soul?” he queried.
“The two are separated but connected.” René explained. “I can look at this glass and taste the wine in it with my senses, but the experience is something that belongs to my mind. To my soul.”
“But if a body and a soul were separated, as per death,” Francis pressed. “which is the part that is living?”
René leaned back in his chair, humming thoughtfully. Slowly, he nodded, deciding on an answer.
“One can get all the sensory input they need, but without a soul to experience it, it is meaningless. The soul is what is living, our proof of existence.” he smiled. “I think, therefore, I am.”
Francis started to laugh.
“Monsieur Descartes, you’d best write that one down.”
Notes:
- This handsome beast is René Descartes, the father of modern Western philosophy. He famously came up with "I think, therefore I am" - which is the title in Latin - and brought the idea of the soul being separate from the body into the modern day.
- He kind of hated books. After he finished university, he "entirely abandoned the study of letters [...] resolving to seek no knowledge other than that of which could be found in myself or else in the great book of the world [...]".
- This is how Pidge studies for her philosophy exam. Don't judge me.
Author: Pidge
Rating: PG
Warnings: philosophy. Pidge's excuse for studying.
Characters: Francis Bonnefoy and Renée Descartes.
Summary: A ghost and a philosopher walk into a bar.
Francis opened his mouth, stopped, frowned, and closed it again.
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.” he admitted with a shrug. The smokey air of the bar dimmed his view of the man across from him, but the candle light revealed enough. A dark haired fellow of impressive intellect, considering they’d met while Francis was wandering the grounds of a local university. However, even the greatest of minds became a little incoherent after five glasses of wine.
“My friend, you are being deliberately dense.” the man said airily. “You know Plato, correct?”
Francis snorted, on his sixth glass himself. “Not personally, René. He was a bit before my time.”
“Yes, yes, yes, but you know of his philosophy.”
He was getting annoyed, so Francis wracked his brain. Well, technically it wasn’t his brain, but that was besides the point. “The forms?”
“Exactly.” A boney finger circled the rim of his wine glass. The side of his hand was smudged with ink. He’d been bemoaning earlier the prevalence of writing in university. Claimed he’d rather learn from the world than books. Quite brilliantly mad. “What Plato called a ‘form’ would be what we modern philosophers call a soul.”
“Didn’t Plato think everything had a ‘form’, though? If you suggest that all things have a soul... well, that sounds almost pagan, if you ask me.” Francis smirked, and his companion returned it.
“He was pagan, a Greek polytheist. But you’re distracting me from the point.”
“Not hard when you’re this drunk.”
“Oh, quiet. I’m not drunk, I’m merry.” He leaned forward with a serious look. “What is your opinion on the soul, my friend?”
Francis froze, wine glass half way to his lips.
“... why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because it’s interesting.” René shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of death, Francis.”
Francis made no answer. His newly acquired friend continued without him.
“A few of my fellow philosophers have claimed that, on the day of Christ’s return, the righteous shall be resurrected.” Waves of dark hair fell over his shoulder when he shook his head. “While I understand and appreciate their faithfulness to the church and the holy books, I’d rather not come back in flesh to this earth. Certainly not to my original body, rotted in the ground. Or anywhere, for that matter. In the event of resurrection or life after death, when God’s perfect kingdom returns, a physical body would be inappropriate. Bodies, in their nature, are imperfect, easily damaged and mortal. Which brings me back to Plato and the soul.” His eyes were hazel, Francis suddenly noticed, and sparkling with inspiration. “The soul is a separate thing from the body. As Plato would say, it is the form of the person. A perfect existence.”
Francis was going to say something about how being a soul without a body to feel with or a brain to organise thoughts and memories with wasn’t as great as René thought, but then he would have to confess to his friend that he was in fact the ghost of a dead man possessing the body of a suicidal university student.
Instead, he just hummed in an interested manner.
“So how do you separate the function of the body from that of the soul?” he queried.
“The two are separated but connected.” René explained. “I can look at this glass and taste the wine in it with my senses, but the experience is something that belongs to my mind. To my soul.”
“But if a body and a soul were separated, as per death,” Francis pressed. “which is the part that is living?”
René leaned back in his chair, humming thoughtfully. Slowly, he nodded, deciding on an answer.
“One can get all the sensory input they need, but without a soul to experience it, it is meaningless. The soul is what is living, our proof of existence.” he smiled. “I think, therefore, I am.”
Francis started to laugh.
“Monsieur Descartes, you’d best write that one down.”
Notes:
- This handsome beast is René Descartes, the father of modern Western philosophy. He famously came up with "I think, therefore I am" - which is the title in Latin - and brought the idea of the soul being separate from the body into the modern day.
- He kind of hated books. After he finished university, he "entirely abandoned the study of letters [...] resolving to seek no knowledge other than that of which could be found in myself or else in the great book of the world [...]".
- This is how Pidge studies for her philosophy exam. Don't judge me.