Maybe I am conscious. I cannot help but notice a perverse smile forming over my face when I consider that a program is not conscious because it does what I tell it to do and that a cat is not because it refuses to play my game. I suspect that Michael Jordan was not when he was fully in the world, dominating his sport, and that the critic is conscious because they sit outside of it all and judge.
The recent Wes Anderson film "Asteroid City" offered probably my favorite characterization of this dichotomy. In the film, two different camps arrive in the middle of the desert--the Stargazers and the Space Cadets. Each type clearly has its degree, its savants and its remedials, but each absolutely their own special kind. One father character arrives with his son and triplet daughters. The father makes many attempts to resolve these questions of awareness wrt his children throughout the film. The son--with whom he most relates--is clearly outside of it all, therefore conscious. The daughters (likely the greatest representation of Moirai I have seen in film) engage in a continuous and unselfconscious display of ritual making and determination of destiny. They are therefore not conscious. Pretty entertaining stuff. I was hoping to write more on type theory, Bergsonism, and the impossibility of presenting a randomly drawn real number. I suppose I will have to wait for those thoughts to settle into something I can offer.
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