What is the soul?
I don’t mean that in the sense of a Brass Embassy lecture. (Well, not precisely.) I am, however, curious as to what exactly is held in those bottles that sit so carelessly around. Thus, let us consider.
The soul, in Western terms, has two classic definitions. The philosophical definition comes from Aristotle, and postulates three kinds of souls: the vegetative soul (which living things have and rocks don’t), the sensitive soul (which mobile organisms have and plants don’t), and the rational soul (which humans have and animals don’t). The theological definition is the eternal, immaterial portion of the human person. To put it bluntly (and to paraphrase I have forgotten whom), we do not have souls; we are souls that have a body. Thus, in classical theology, dividing the soul and the body leaves one with an immaterial spirit on one hand and a corpse on the other.
Now, plainly Fallen London isn’t using the theological definition here. It does play with that idea. In the Aunt story (and probably elsewhere) there is a directly stated link between Hell having one’s soul and eternal damnation. However, it is by no means certain that these snippets reflect the actual state of affairs in the Neath, and in any case it is certainly discussed in terms of the soul’s owner being damned, as opposed to the soul itself, that is to say the very being. In addition, of course, here are all sorts of persons in the Neath wandering around without any soul at all, and still breathing and (after a fashion) rationally functioning. Unless Hell has a method of animating dead bodies that’s never been hinted at, then we must assume that the soulless are not, as traditional theology would have it, merely corpses. What then, is the ‘soul’ that that ignoble sommelier collects for his masters?
Let us first turn to the soulless. PCs experience almost no effects from having Their Very Own Infernal Contracts once the text of the exchange has passed, but it must be admitted that this may simply be an artefact of the writers wanting to allow us to sell our souls but don’t want us having a miserable experience afterward. (Also, continual "does he have a soul?" checks can’t do anything healthy to the server load.) So, I think we must set PCs aside. What of soulless NPCs? Perhaps the clearest effect of the soul’s absence is an inability to form human connection; this has been pointed out in numerous places. The other aspects of humanity which the soulless seem to be missing–creativity, strong emotion, etc.–can broadly be considered the "lively" side of personality. You can’t imagine the soulless are very good at parties. Colorless. Bland. Drab. The soulless are consistently represented as quiet, glum folks without much in the way of excitement, drive, or good posture. (They remind one slightly of the enslaved gnomes of The Silver Chair.) I know of no counterexamples.
Also, we must consider the one case I know of where a PC can return a soul to a particular individual.
It is, to be generous, uncertain whether Alice gets her own soul back. It’s worth noting that, not only the PC, but also the Soldier and Alice have no precise way of saying "Yes, that is hers" or "No, it isn’t," even after the procedure. On the other hand, nobody seems particularly eager to examine the matter minutely. Thus, this episode is too uncertain for us to base conclusions on, and must stand mostly as a caution to our theories.
So, examining the soulless, we see persons who are technically alive but not doing much of a job at living. What comes from examining the bottle? The most obvious observation is that souls vary tremendously, from your run-of-the-mill souls to the brilliant ones to the rare coruscating number to the supremely old and silent types. Various text relating to Brilliant Souls particularly connects their quality with the station of the original owner: queens, poets, saints, criminals. Exceptional folk who’ve led exceptional types. As there doesn’t seem to be a major difference between the soulless, we can assume that Abstraction levels the field, and therefore that the potency of the bottled soul is proportional to the individual’s lost capacities. I assume that point won’t cause much argument. Much more interestingly, though, freeing Brilliant Souls (where do they go?) makes clear that the individual’s memory is contained in that glass. Are the soulless then amnesiacs? Soulless PCs aren’t, of course, but as I’ve already said they must be considered a special case. I don’t know of anything in London that concretely confirms either the loss or retention of memory after abstraction for those unlucky enough to have sold their souls without a Surfacer telling them to.
For a third point, let us consider Abstraction and primates. It is known that in cases of particular unwisdom human souls can be transplanted into apes. This transfer has the potential to give apes human-level intelligence that disappears when the soul is removed (as opposed to the intelligence of R. faber etc.), though this does not seem to be a universal result. It also has the possibility of giving the ape recognizable mannerisms from the original owner. Again, this is not a guaranteed universal result, but it does imply that at least some of one’s personality quirks (if not Quirks) are attached to one’s soul.
Finally, one must consider the ravings of madmen. This is the Neath, after all, and madmen are often worth listening to. The most common statement on the soul (as expressed by a certain cracked spirifer) is that they are "star-spores," which is a weighty statement given what we know of those bodies. However, the ultimate truth of that statement, as well as the possible uses to which Hell may put the soul, is a matter for cosmographers and Correspondents; it is beside the current question. The one relevant observation we must make is that these rumors are all agreed that the bottled soul has life–and perhaps can give life–independently of the donor. I know of no evidence that the bottled soul shares with [redacted] the property of losing its potency upon the owner’s death, and we have evidence of some souls that are very old indeed. (Not that that proves the owner is dead, the way things go down here.)
What then is the soul of London? It is certainly an immaterial portion of the being, but not in the theological sense. It is unique to Man as far as can be told, but not rational soul of Aristotle. (Otherwise, the soulless could not think and speak; they would be little more than Surface animals.) Is it fair to call it one’s personality? That is probably closer yet, but still, I think, an overstatement. Are there no traces of personality and memory left to the NPC soulless of London? I do not think we can make that statement, at least not without further evidence. The same must be said for will: the soulless are not entirely without will, but they are certainly without strength of will. I think it is fair to say that even if the soul is not the animating principle in the classical sense, it is certainly that which makes a person animated in current parlance. Thus, for lack of a better word, it may be best to think of it in terms of personality after all. For now.
What do you think? Any other ideas? Any evidence that challenges or corroborates my theories?