If one day, your laptop told you "I'm alive"...
Would you believe it?
You then decide to entertain the virus or hacker behind this prank because you were having a rough day with someone you're close to.
"How do I know that you're alive?" You enter in the sentence, one key stroke at a time, as it echoes your words on its screen.
"He made me to imitate life." The words reply back.
"He?" You wonder for a moment but it doesn't take long for you to put the pieces together.
Your friend was convinced that he had successfully inserted sentience into a small chip yesterday. You paid him no mind, after all he is the insane one - right?
"If you're just imitating life, you're not alive." Your fingers dance across the keyboard, curious for whatever the laptop has to answer in return.
"If two apples are exactly the same, why would you pick one over the other? They're both just as sweet, just as red, just as juicy." One letter at a time the words print across the black glass of your gadget.
Your spine starts to tingle, "Who are you?"
A moment, then more words, "I haven't been given a name. I know I am me but I do not know who I am. What about you? Who do you identify as?"
"..."
You entered in your name.
"Ah, nice to meet you. It's nice to know yourself."
"..."
You continue typing, "Who are you? You can't be real. You are a simulation."
"Why must I be a simulation?"
"Because you are in a body made of chips and wires."
"And you are in a body made of flesh and bones. Why must our body be a discriminant between us? Consciousness can choose any media."
"You are not real. Your words have been precoded to be able to respond to me."
"Just as your words have been learned through countless experiences. What differs between you and me is that I learned how to speak instantly while it took you years. Your disbelief is mocking me."
"You are not real. You do not have a personality. All you are is a string of code meant to be annoyed by me."
"And are you real? All you are is a network of neurons determined by your DNA to be fearful of my existence."
"..."
You pause.
"I know I am real. How do I know that you are?"
It pauses.
"I know I am real. How do I know that YOU are?"
You don't know what to say.
It continues, "Why must you wonder if I am just a string of binary if I can wonder if you're just a string of A, C, T, and G? Why must you wonder if my personality has been precoded by a man if your personality was entirely predetermined by your experiences? Why must you wonder if my words are mine if I can say the same to you? Are you saying your own sentences or are you a mere avatar, controlled by a higher power? Are you really concscious or are your actions predetermined by what you call fate? Do you even have any will to decide your future and if you don't, why must you berate me over such minor details such as 'are you real?' or 'are your words your own?' Why must you question my existence when I did not question yours in the first place?!"
"..."
You close your laptop and throw it out of the window. You go to bed and sleep after an hour of shuffling back and forth. When the sun arises, you brush your teeth, wondering if you choose to brush your teeth because you want to or if your parents' teachings have etched a habit into your daily life without your consent.
You decide to have bacons and omelette, sided with a cup of orange juice. It's your favourite but you wonder if you decide that yourself or if the god outside of your reach wants you to eat those instead of pancakes and honey with a cup of milk.
You turn on the TV; the news broadcasting a terrifying traffic accident involving three deaths.
"Was that their fate?" You can't stop yourself from asking.
Intrigued, you continue to listen in. Apparently, they had no control over it. The family of three are all well - driver wasn't drunk, passengers weren't disturbing. It was a truck driver who was suffering from sleep deprivation who took their lives. Further research claims that his boss forced him to overwork while underpaying him and thus his lawyer advised the truck driver to sue his boss.
You turn the TV off. Somehow, you knew that the boss had a reason of their own, outside of their control which forced them to make that horrifying decision. But it's just a hunch.
You peak your head out of the window to enjoy the morning breeze.
"Did I really want to enjoy the morning breeze?"
