Chasing Qualia
"Non omnis moriar." — Horace, Odes It was a fine evening for the world. But for Sunny, it was an evening of horror. At just twelve years old, he had been sent to live with his grandparents. He felt abandoned, afraid, and overwhelmed by a loneliness he couldn’t name. He cried quietly in his grandmother’s lap, wondering why his parents had left him there. Was he not enough? His grandfather—a man who rarely showed emotion, but always knew what to say—spoke in a tone that told Sunny he understood. "Come, son. Let's go sit on the roof for a while." Sunny didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay curled in his sorrow, but he respected his grandfather too much to say no. Wordlessly, he followed. They lay on the rooftop floor, gazing up at the stars in silence. After a while, his grandfather asked, "What do you see when you look up there?" "Stars, the moon... the sun, I guess," Sunny replied, childlike and honest. "That's the obvious answer. Bu...