I admit it. I need some help with “The Chinese Room,” by Alec Deason. From the first line, it paints a curious scene, full of wonderful details:
It held out its palm for Jason to see. There was a single grain of sand on the worn plastic surface.
“I have many thoughts,” the thing elaborated.
A thought in a grain of sand. That is so cool. The way the thing speaks and acts are even cooler. And yet. I like the story, but I don’t really know what happened. I’m left with the sense that I need to be deeply steeped in computation theory to have a clue. Any thoughts?