The key difference between Sion, my feline companion, and I, supposedly and reportedly, is that I am conscious, whereas he is incapable of constructing a theory regarding his own existence. I know that I am, whilst he is unaware of and ignorant about this indisputable fact about his condition.
But why am I conscious? What role does consciousness play in my life? Or, asked in an inverted yet equivalent form, is the alleged lack of consciousness a disadvantage for Sion?
For the purpose of finishing this blog post before I leave the train at Dundas Station, I will assume that the contemporary consensus regarding consciousness is as follows:
Evolution, the supreme perpetual enforcer of the concept of survival, has at some point succeeded in making its products sentient. Man is the pinnacle of that achievement and man’s access to consciousness has allowed it to step on the moon, whereas a majority of other species cease to push for territory as soon as they are faced with a river, mountainside, or valley.
The key question is what advantage may it be for a flesh machine to be cognisant of its own predicament?
The short answer, I conjecture, is that the function of consciousness is for man to produce culture and culture is the best alternative to Transfer Learning that mother existence has discovered.