It's actually a lump of lava with a thin crust. Any time the crust breaks we have a very bad time.

I enjoy Marcus Aurelius paraphrasing Epctetus...

"You are a little soul bearing about a corpse."

It's weird that we, as people, think that our being or self ends at our skin. And we're just a consciousness controlling a meat cube.

What about all the bacteria living on and inside of us? People would die without their microflora.

What about our subconscious/unconscious doings/thoughts? Are we in control of them? Or are they in control of us? Could consciousness be an illusion? One created by our senses' interpretation of external stimuli.

So you're saying humanity is a mecha space opera?

Be fair. You are an abstraction layer; a subsystem running on that electrified hunk of fat. There's plenty of stuff that evolution has delegated as non-conscious functions of the fatlump.

“At thе end of the day, your brain is just a meat computеr in a bone cockpit piloting a skin robot You think the world makes sense? Nothing makes sense! So you might as well make nonsense!”

And I want off.