The Question That Refuses to Sit Still There is a question that arrives uninvited, usually in the quiet hours. Not the loud philosophical kind, with its footnotes and battle lines. The smaller, more disarming version. Why is there something it is like to be me at all? The lamp on the desk is doing something. So is the brain in the skull a few inches above it. Both follow physical laws. Both can be measured, mapped, weighed. And yet only one of them — presumably — feels anythi