Human experience depends on everything that can influence states

Host: The laboratory was silent except for the steady hum of machines, a low mechanical heartbeat that pulsed beneath the fluorescent light. On the glass wall, rows of neural scans glowed — bright constellations of color, each one a universe of thought, emotion, and electricity.

Outside, the city loomed through the wide windows — skyscrapers rising like circuitry, their lights flickering in sync with the digital pulse of the modern world.

At the center of this sterile brilliance, Jack stood, hands in his pockets, staring at a brain scan frozen on the screen — electric tendrils of blue and red illuminating the shape of consciousness itself. Jeeny sat nearby on a stainless-steel counter, swinging her legs, eyes following the rhythm of the lights.

The air was cold, precise, and heavy with questions.

Jeeny: softly “Sam Harris once said, ‘Human experience depends on everything that can influence states of the human brain, ranging from changes in our genome to changes in the global economy.’”
She tilted her head, studying the glowing image before them. “He’s right, isn’t he? Everything — love, war, hunger, politics — all of it begins and ends in this fragile web of neurons.”

Jack: without looking away “It’s terrifying when you think about it. The whole of human history — every decision, every faith, every act of cruelty or kindness — all just fluctuations in electrical activity.”

Jeeny: “You make it sound mechanical.”

Jack: turning to her “It is. And that’s the horror and the beauty. We call it ‘soul,’ but really, it’s just chemistry dancing.”

Host: The machines behind them murmured, their steady rhythm merging with the soft flicker of the monitors.

Jeeny: “But isn’t that what Harris is getting at? That experience isn’t something mystical floating above biology — it’s grounded. It’s everything that touches the brain, from our DNA to our debts.”

Jack: smirking faintly “So a bad economy can alter consciousness as deeply as trauma.”

Jeeny: “It does. Anxiety, depression, hope — they’re not metaphors. They’re measurable.”

Host: She leaned forward, her reflection merging with the holographic brain scan — flesh and data overlapping, the old and the new.

Jeeny: “When he talks about experience depending on everything that can influence the brain, he’s saying we’re not separate from the world — we are the world, translated through biology.”

Jack: “So every revolution starts in neurons before it ever reaches the streets.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “Exactly. You can’t fix society without fixing minds.”

Jack: “And you can’t fix minds without understanding the machinery.”

Host: The lights above dimmed slightly, and a faint reflection of the city skyline spread across the glass wall — civilization itself superimposed over a glowing image of the brain.

Jack: “You know what scares me most about that quote?”

Jeeny: “What?”

Jack: “The idea that we’re not in control. That who we are is just the result of what happens to us — the genes we didn’t choose, the world we didn’t build.”

Jeeny: “But maybe that’s the illusion we need — the idea of self-control. Maybe it’s not about control at all, but about awareness. Seeing the currents without pretending we command the tide.”

Jack: half-smiling “That sounds like surrender.”

Jeeny: “No. It’s humility. Knowing that consciousness is fragile doesn’t diminish us — it makes every experience more sacred.”

Host: Her voice softened, echoing faintly in the room, like truth finding its own reverb.

Jeeny: “Think about it. The same neurons that make someone write a symphony are the ones that make someone pull a trigger. The same chemicals that birth compassion can twist into hate. The line between saint and sinner is about micrometers of biology.”

Jack: quietly “So morality’s just neuroscience in motion.”

Jeeny: “And every moral failure is a neurological misfire, magnified by circumstance.”

Jack: “That’s a dangerous thought.”

Jeeny: “It’s a freeing one. It means empathy isn’t a luxury — it’s necessity. Because if we’re all built from the same fragile machinery, then judgment makes less sense than understanding.”

Host: The screens shifted, the brain image replaced by a slow-motion feed of synapses firing — tiny explosions of light, cascading across the monitor like galaxies colliding.

Jack watched it, mesmerized. “It’s strange,” he murmured. “We’ve spent centuries praying to the heavens for answers, and it turns out the universe was hiding inside our skulls the whole time.”

Jeeny: “We’re gods made of atoms. Or maybe atoms dreaming they’re gods.”

Jack: “And every dream we’ve ever had — love, art, truth — is just neurons pretending to be infinity.”

Jeeny: “That’s not pretending. That’s becoming.”

Host: The silence that followed was delicate — charged, alive with the pulse of meaning. Outside, the city seemed to shimmer — traffic flowing like blood through arteries of light.

Jeeny: “What Harris is really saying,” she whispered, “is that we can’t separate the personal from the planetary. Your sadness might begin in your childhood, but it’s shaped by your genome, your economy, your politics, your species. We’re all connected, all entangled, all vibrating inside the same field of influence.”

Jack: softly “So when one person suffers, it’s not isolated — it ripples. A global economy of pain and joy.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Every brain is a market of thoughts trading across invisible borders.”

Jack: smiling faintly “You always make science sound like poetry.”

Jeeny: “That’s because it is. The poetry of matter learning to feel.”

Host: The machines around them began to power down, the hum fading into the low whisper of the rain. The glowing scans dimmed one by one until only the faint reflection of their faces remained in the glass — two small fragments of consciousness staring into the mystery of their own making.

Jack: quietly “Do you think knowing all this changes anything?”

Jeeny: “It has to. If we understand that consciousness can be influenced by everything — genes, trauma, wealth, weather — then compassion isn’t optional anymore. It’s logical.”

Jack: “Because no one chooses the architecture of their own brain.”

Jeeny: “Right. We’re all the sum of infinite forces we didn’t ask for. And maybe that’s why love matters — because it’s the only influence we can consciously give each other.”

Host: The camera would pull back now — the lab seen from above, its glowing panels fading into the vast lights of the city. From here, the skyline looked almost biological — a great organism pulsing with energy, every window a neuron, every road a synapse.

And as the scene faded to black, Sam Harris’s words would echo, calm and profound, the sound of science meeting soul:

“Human experience depends on everything that can influence states of the human brain, ranging from changes in our genome to changes in the global economy.”

Because consciousness is not an island —
it is an ecosystem.

Each thought, each heartbeat,
is a negotiation between biology and circumstance.

To be human
is to be influenced —
by history, by hunger, by hope.

And to know this —
to truly see the machinery of the mind —
is to realize that compassion
is not sentiment,
but science.

For we are all neurons
in the same trembling universe,
and every act of understanding
is the universe
learning to heal itself.