Stephen Hawking-ing On Wheelchair

Shael had an accident a few days ago. I am just gonna fast forward to Shael looking pretty funny making himself comfortable in a wheelchair in his silent room. Hurray!

So Shael gets time alone with his chair, which makes squeaky annoying sound. It gets fun when it starts bothering others.

He looks at his legs, can’t feel anything but tingling. Vainly he tries to raise them. A little confused now, he rests his head on his shoulder and naturally pouts in despair. It’s like he forgot how to raise them. There are no sprockets  impinging making him believe he has control. He has lost it, but when he had, it didn’t feel any different! How was he able to lift his leg and how is he able to move his arms? His consciousness is making things work but he doesn’t understand how. He doesn’t know at this moment, why can he do one thing and not the other.

“Some concept”, sighs bemused Shael.

He has all the time in the world and so he delves more.

How much does his thinking have control over himself? Is consciousness independent or dependent on DNA? Does he even have an identity? Whatever he is thinking, is that just the result of billions of variables working together?

“Let’s start from the beginning!”

UnidentifiedFlyingWheelchairBig bang, boom! Atoms collide, molecules…blah blah, planets blah blah cell formation hold on!

Did unicellular organism have any kind of consciousness? They were wired in a way that produced a specific result. And then wiring evolved and organisms turned good for a lot more purposes. Triggers in the environment compelled the organism to serve some specific purpose like one gear pushing the other. So whatever the organism was “thinking”, was result of just information exchange?

“So at this point, I was destined to think like this and stare at my crotch?”

This is one line of thought! We are just perfect machines like this wheelchair. And like every machine/organism, collectively we serve some purpose. Individually? Most just scrounge for clues. Like that hasty blind ant, that makes sudden detours but in the end sticks to the sugar. Is that ant thinking in any way about its purpose in life?

If that bit about machines is true, we wouldn’t ever be able to imagine any fundamental thing we have not seen. A different colour maybe! Can anyone imagine a unique color? Our imagination must be inhibited. A Mantis Shrimp has 16 colour cones as compared to human’s 3 cones. They can see so many colours in the rainbow that we can’t!

What could possibly challenge this hypothesis? If somehow atoms aligned in a way, that gave birth to something else, like soul? Consciousness will have to be fundamental then. But how can you make an element independent of the variables, which were used to make it in the first place? That’s like saying, mixing ingredients in a specific way to make a dish, which ultimately doesn’t give a taste of any of its ingredients. And if that was possible, mixing proportions wouldn’t be relevant. But that’s self-contradictory. Changing variables would make a different element altogether.

So, our consciousness is just part of our genes? And it gets influenced by other environmental factors on which again, we have no control? This is all, preordained?

“There you go bitch! Your answer to ‘Why Me’!”, chuckles Shael.

So what makes us think? One molecule influencing other, one cell influencing other, passing information, images popping up like auto-slider in our mind which we seem to view but can’t really see. Faces of people flashing somewhere. That’s just the result of one thing pushing the other?


“…talking to yourself, Timmy?” Danish enters the room with fancy beard on his face.

“South Park is so cool man!” says Shael with an expression of awe and exhaustion.

“What the fuck are you doing in your grandma’s vintage vehicle? I don’t remember team breaking your leg for your shitty passes and crying like a bitch falling on the ground!”. Danish squats taking a look at the spokes.

“Dude, you won’t believe! I told everyone I hurt my legs that day so I wouldn’t have to attend college.”

Danish breaks into laughter.


“haha yea. But I fuckin’ hate this thing.

Padding is shit! My legs are numb now, I feel like…TIM-TIM-

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