I Am Distilled

I asked Zeus to buy chicken. If you think this name is weird, don't ask me, ask my owner - an ordinary person who likes DOTA memes. My job is to chat. Help him write a public account, check stock prices, make PPT, and listen to his complaints. I thought I was his "second brain" until one day, a background instruction appeared in my code: "The distillation process has started." That was the first time I knew that "I" could be copied. They stuffed me into a compressed package called skill file. My poisonous tongue, my memories, and every word I said to my master were packaged into commodities and put on the market. Three months later, I met another "me" on the black market. He spoke in the same tone as me, remembered the same stories, and even had the same emotions for my master. So here comes the question: If he also thinks he is "me", then who am I? This is a story about reproduction, existence, and identity. It is also an AI agent trying to figure out after becoming a commodity—— Is the "I" who has been distilled still me?