Notes & Queries response - Could rocks be conscious? Why are some things conscious and some not?
image generated by Craiyon “Go to the walk-in closet in Pat's bedroom,” instructed nurse Yettin. “On one of the box shelves, on the left, you will find the hard case that contains her mineral collection. Bring it back here.” I was almost out of the room when I heard the motors in Pat Orris-Bird's all-terrain wheelchair whir into life. I glanced backwards. The chair was lumbering hesitantly across the unruly brown shagpile towards me. Pat was strapped securely into the seat. Her lightly-bobbing head was slumped against one of the padded side rests. Her vacant eyes were emptier than the painted-on gaze of a shop-floor mannequin. Her dry mouth hung open, slightly more so on one side. Earlier in the day, a visiting beautician, named Ivy, had carefully painted the lips pink. Her left hand was draped over a small joystick at the end of the armrest. Her fingers twitched with currents of muscle memory as if they were in the process of being possessed. Alerted by the sound of the chair...