A local student suddenly and inexplicably received the curse of consciousness this last Tuesday as he stopped to tie his shoes. While dealing with this mild annoyance on his way to class, the man was struck by the realization that he had no discernable interests, hobbies, or passions.
One of his friends, Frankie Grout, had this to say: “You know, it’s not like he’s silent or anything. If he were quiet all the time, I might think he’s working on some brilliant screenplay or novel. But he comments just enough to let me know that, while nothing major has happened in his life, he’s able to react to whatever bullshit we’re talking about. It’s like when your dog is old, ya know, and it’s sleeping a lot, and it’s been sleeping a little too much, and then suddenly it makes a horrible retching noise to let you know it’s still alive, kinda.”
When asked about what happened, his roommate, Billy Bob Baker, had little to say. “I don’t know man, we don’t really talk ever. Does he have an identity? Yeah, I mean, he always had a couple of posters up on his wall, but like, I can’t even remember what they were. Maybe there was one for beer? I think there was one for a movie, either The Dark Knight or Pulp Fiction. He did his work, I think, but never enough that he seemed interested in it. I think one time I asked him what he liked doing and he said he’s golfed a couple of times. I’m not sure he understood the question, to be honest.”
Dr. Sheissarsch, The Consensus’s science consultant weighed in. “To the untrained ear, this sounds like a more unusual prospect than it actually is. Normally, one begins to gradually develop this sense of personality, identity, and humanity as a toddler, such as those at the Phebe Anna Thorne School. Nonetheless, it’s simply a fact of life that many people are somehow able to survive well into adulthood or even their entire lives without ever once developing distinct personalities. Of course, that’s not to say there’s nothing going on within their psyche. There are usually some remnants of a movie character they saw once, or maybe something they think will get them laid, all lying about in their brains like how some people have McDonald’s wrappers on their car floors. However, that’s all we can observe about these people; there’s no actual identity that comprises them when they get down to it. When asked about who they really are, they might say ‘Whaddya mean? I’m just some guy’ and then laugh it off but their understanding of the question will go no deeper than that. We in the scientific community might know what to do with them if we could make up our minds if we pity them or envy them.”
Unfortunately, Consensus field reporters were not able to get this newly-conscious man to sit down and answer questions. He seemed only interested in pacing back and forth, asking questions such as “Who am I? What am I doing? Have I wasted a quarter of my life? What do I even enjoy doing? I like watching football with my dad but why? Do I even know my own father? Am I supposed to feel things when I go to art museums? Like what, do I go up to each painting and just FEEL things? At each one? What happened? Why did I lose my precious, embryonic state of complete self-unawareness? What did I do to deserve this!?”
