"It’s just condensation and gravity," he whispered to himself, echoing Bering’s cold, evolutionary logic. He knew the theory: his brain was an "overactive agency detection device." It was a survival mechanism left over from ancestors who survived because they assumed the rustle in the tall grass was a lion with a plan, not just the wind.
He stopped under the buzzing light, the book tucked dry beneath his jacket. Bering’s words haunted him: we are "biologically hand-wired" to believe in souls, even if souls are just a clever trick of the neurons to help us navigate a complex social world. The Belief Instinct: The Psychology of Souls, D...
He had spent the afternoon highlighted passages about "theory of mind"—the human brain’s relentless habit of attributing intentions to everything. Bering argued that we don't just see a storm; we see an angry sky. We don't just see a coincidence; we see a "sign." "It’s just condensation and gravity," he whispered to
But as he walked home, the streetlights flickered in a rhythmic pulse. His mind immediately raced to his grandfather, who had passed a month ago. Is that you? the thought bloomed before he could stop it. We don't just see a coincidence; we see a "sign