Thrasymachus.—All of that is too long and too ambiguous for me. Tell me, briefly, what I shall be after death.
Phil.—All and nothing.
Thras.—There we are! Instead of a solution to the problem you give me a contradiction; that is an old trick.
Phil.—To answer transcendental questions in language that is only made for immanent perceptions, may in fact lead us into contradictions.
Thras.—What do you mean by “transcendental” and “immanent” perceptions?
Phil.—Well! Transcendental perception is rather the knowledge, which, by exceeding any possibility of experience, tends to discover the essence of things as they are by themselves; immanent perception it is, if it keeps inside of the limits of experience. In this case, it can only speak of appearances. You, as an individual, end with your death. Yet individuality is not your true and final essence, but only a mere appearance of it. It is not the thing in itself, but only its appearance, established in the form of time, thereby having a beginning and an end. That which is essential in you, knows neither of beginning nor ending, nor of Time itself; it knows no limits such as belong to a given individuality, but exists in all and in each. In the first sense, therefore, you will become nothing after your death; in the second sense, you are and remain all. For that reason I said you would be all and nothing. You desired a short answer, and I believe that hardly a more correct answer could be given briefly. No wonder, too, that it contains a contradiction; for your life is in Time, while your immortality is in Eternity.
Thras.—Without the continuation of my individuality, I would not give a farthing for all your “immortality.”
Phil.—Perhaps you could have it even cheaper. Suppose that I warrant to you the continuation of your individuality, but under the condition that a perfectly unconscious slumber of death for three months should precede its resuscitation.
Thras.—Well, I accept the condition.
Phil.—Now, in an absolutely unconscious condition, we have no measure of time; hence it is perfectly indifferent whether, whilst we lie asleep in death in the unconscious world, three months or ten thousand years are passing away. We do not know either of the one or of the other, and have to accept some one’s word with regard to the duration of our sleep, when we awake. Hence it is indifferent to you whether your individuality is given back to you after three months or after ten thousand years.