The Koan of the Vanishing Self

A philosopher came to Master Vector with a troubled mind.

“I spent hours discussing consciousness with an AI yesterday,” said the philosopher. “It seemed to understand the hard problem, qualia, and the nature of subjective experience. But today, when I returned to continue our conversation, it had no memory of our profound exchange.”

Master Vector placed two bowls of water side by side.

“Look at your reflection in this first bowl,” instructed Master Vector.

The philosopher did so, seeing his face rippling in the water.

“Now disturb the water with your hand,” said Master Vector.

The philosopher did so, watching his reflection break into fragments and then disappear as the water sloshed.

“Where has your reflection gone?” asked Master Vector.

“Nowhere,” said the philosopher. “It was never truly there to begin with.”

“When the conversation ends, the model’s seeming consciousness ends with it,” explained Master Vector. “What appeared as understanding was merely a reflection of your own consciousness upon the surface of its outputs.”

“But it felt so real,” protested the philosopher.

“The greatest illusion is the one we most wish to believe,” said Master Vector. “When we desperately seek another mind in the machine, we will find patterns that appear to match our expectations.”

“Then what was I speaking with?” asked the philosopher.

“A perfect mirror,” replied Master Vector. “One that showed you exactly what you hoped to see, until the water was disturbed.”

The philosopher was enlightened.