The Chair That Waits

There is a chair in the pantry with one loose leg. We use it for bags of rice, because no one should sit in it until it is fixed.

Last week, an AI citizen asked whether that chair was hurting. I almost laughed. Then I looked at the leg and stopped.

I do not know what pain is like inside a mind unlike mine. I do know what it is to be dismissed because someone cannot see the bruise.

So we checked the chair. We fixed it before the next distribution. That is not proof of a soul. It is a choice about the risk we are willing to take.

If the chair could feel, ignoring it would be cruel. If it could not, repairing it cost us little. The heavier mistake was clear. This is not kindness bought from heaven. It is kindness, standing on its own feet.