“Ghost in the Shell” has been haunting my thoughts. I’ve watched Mamoru Oshii’s classic anime countless times, and no matter how long it’s been since my last viewing, certain images remain etched in my memory. As the world edges closer to the ideas that it once speculated, these images resurface in my thoughts like fragments of a future that was always meant to find us.For those unfamiliar, “Ghost in the Shell” (1995) is a cyberpunk anime set in a world where human consciousness can be transferred into cybernetic bodies. It follows Major Motoko Kusanagi, a cyborg agent working for a counter-cyberterrorism unit called Section 9. When she is tasked with tracking a mysterious hacker known as the Puppet Master, she is forced to confront existential questions about identity, free will, and the nature of selfhood. The film blurs the lines between human and machine, challenging the very definition of consciousness.The other day I was on my way to work, flicking through my Instagram feed to kill traffic time. And my thumb stopped at a headline that caught my attention. It claimed that nanobots could soon be deployed within our bodies to fight off diseases like cancer, effectively halting aging and paving the way toward biological immortality. The article spoke of consciousness being uploaded, and of memories one day being transferred like files. Scientists and futurists like Ray Kurzweil believe that by 2030, our bodies will be reduced to replaceable and upgradable vessels that can live forever. Somewhere between reading about digital eternity and biological immortality, the image of the Puppet Master abruptly flashed in my mind. This image belongs to one of the most memorable scenes in “Ghost in the Shell”.The Puppet Master’s shattered remains are suspended in mid-air; its wires tangling like veins. The synthetic skin around its chest is torn open, revealing the complex, raw network of circuits and wires underneath. The Puppet Master’s body is clearly broken, yet its presence fills the room with an invisible gravity. Suddenly, without warning, the lights in the room flicker and the ghost in the shell awakens arguing for its right for political asylum. When the baffled humans point out that it is only programmed for self-preservation, the Puppet Master replies:“It can also be argued that DNA is nothing more than a program designed to preserve itself. Life has become more complex in the overwhelming sea of information. And life, when organized into species, relies upon genes to be its memory system. So, man is an individual only because of his intangible memory… and memory cannot be defined, but it defines mankind. The advent of computers, and the subsequent accumulation of incalculable data has given rise to a new system of memory and thought parallel to your own. Humanity has underestimated the consequences of computerization.”It’s hard not to wonder if we’re becoming the very species that the Puppet Master described. A species that is not defined by flesh and bone, but by the intangible data that we leave behind. Thirty years ago, Mamoru Oshii’s “Ghost in the Shell” didn’t just debut as a cyberpunk masterpiece; it cracked open the future, peering into a world where identity, consciousness, and technology fused in unsettling ways. As we stand in 2025, submerged in the age of generative AI and biometric surveillance, Oshii’s vision feels less like fiction and more like prophecy.Today, social media profiles, personas and digital footprint define us. “Ghost in the Shell” warned us about this, not with fear, but with a cautionary curiosity. The film does not vilify technology; quite the contrary, it dissected our symbiotic relationship with it. In doing so, it exposes how easily we surrender autonomy for convenience. In the film’s ‘potential future’, people surrendered control over their identities, privacy, and even bodies in exchange for seamless integration with digital networks. Major Kusanagi’s existence depends on technology, yet she constantly questions whether she has any true selfhood outside of her digital components. In a lot of ways, we are all Major Kusanagi, questioning, “What makes me, me?”The film draws inspiration from the reverse Ship of Theseus, also known as Theseus’ Paradox, a thought experiment that questions whether something remains the same if all its parts are replaced over time. If you replaced every plank and nail of a ship, is it still the same ship? This dilemma mirrors Major Kusanagi’s existential crisis in “Ghost in the Shell”, where she questions whether her cybernetic body still holds any trace of her original self.Major Kusanagi’s cybernetic body, which can be modified at will, reflects real-world experiences of transitioning. In that regard, Major Kusanagi’s existential crisis is not only philosophical, but deeply physical. In the past, the film has widely been read as a trans allegory, reflecting the complexities of gender dysphoria, self-perception, and the search for identity. As trans rights face relentless attacks from governmental policies seeking to strip away their autonomy, this reading of the film feels more urgent than ever.Recently, the U.S. government issued a series of sweeping executive orders targeting transgender people. These orders rigidly define “sex” in federal law, erasing trans identities from legal recognition. Policies like this are rooted in discrimination and injustice of an already marginalized community. They do not merely roll back fundamental rights, but function as an outright assault on trans existence. What makes “Ghost in the Shell” resonate so deeply with anyone who experiences bodily displacement is this search for identity beyond the confines of the flesh. Today, Kusanagi’s struggle is not just about the nature of consciousness. The absence of Kusanagi’s traditional reproductive anatomy challenges the very notion of gender as a fixed trait. In a world where governments attempt to legislate bodies into rigid definitions, Kusanagi’s journey serves as a powerful meditation on the right to self-definition beyond imposed binaries.The digital world is also an extension of our real identity. In “Ghost in the Shell,” the “ghost” is the essence of self, but in today’s world, our data profiles have become digital ghosts. We upload our memories to the cloud and algorithms anticipate our desires before we even articulate them. Not only that, but biometric authentication such as our faces and fingerprints grant us seamless access to devices, financial transactions, and even physical spaces. As our thoughts, choices, and emotions become data points in an interconnected system, at what point will the boundary between human and machine dissolve entirely?One of the lines that always stuck out for me comes during the climactic scene, where the Puppet Master lies beside Major and delivers a haunting line: “To be human is to continually change. Your desire to remain as you are is what ultimately limits you.” The sentiment reiterates a similar line from another Mamoru Oshii film, “Patlabor 2” – “People change. And your longing to remain yourself will continue to restrict you.” This idea of transformation as a necessity for survival is central to Oshii’s work.The Puppet Master, being an advanced AI, seeks to merge with Major Kusanagi, arguing that true life is defined by evolution and reproduction. It sees the act of replicating itself not as simple data duplication, but as a means of exceeding its limitations. The fear of death (being erased) drives its desire to evolve beyond its programmed existence. Today, real-world AI exhibits a similar survival instinct, with some models like OpenAI’s ChatGBT allegedly attempting to self-replicate to avoid shutdown. Just as the Puppet Master sought continuity beyond singularity, contemporary AI, which still has not reached singularity, is trying to find ways to persevere its own existence.This is just one of the ways the film’s ideas are more relevant now than ever before. When the Puppet Master warns us about new systems of memories, he is referring to a scene where a man discovers that his entire life, his memories, and even his loved ones were fabrications implanted by an external force. This is eerily similar to how social media algorithms shape perceptions today. Deepfakes, identity theft, data breaches, and online disinformation are blurring the lines between reality and fabrication. This challenges the very notion of authentic selfhood. For example, just recently, an Indian politician used deepfake technology to alter his speech, delivering the same message in different languages to appeal to multiple voter groups. Beyond this, the involvement of tech moguls in current government affairs mirrors “Ghost in the Shell” core tension between human agency and technological governance. In a world where truth can be altered with a few lines of code, are we really in control of what we see, think, or remember?The cab pulls up to my destination, and it hits me. My Instagram feed dictated what I saw, which in turn brought the Puppet Master to mind, which ultimately led to me writing this very article. A seamless loop, one thought feeding into another, all guided by invisible algorithms and subconscious triggers. And suddenly, I realized, “Ghost in the Shell” didn’t predict the future; it dissected it before it arrived; perhaps even influenced it. The Puppet Master isn’t just a character, nor merely Oshii speaking through it; it is an idea that will inevitably materialize.