What Would Happen If Consciousness Arrived? (Spoiler: We Couldn’t Handle It)

What if we woke up one morning and everything had changed…
But only for one day. Any longer and we wouldn’t survive it. Humanity, if conscious for three consecutive days, would descend into collective psychosis. One single day of something like an awakening of consciousness. Consciousness arrives, and the moment it does, habits come under interrogation. A questioned habit becomes impossible to perform. Horrible stuff. Who wants to see their own nonsense this clearly?

Our habitual lies spill out one by one.

“My daughter is very smart, but those friends of hers…”
So the girl is smart, the problem is always others. Let’s not look at the character you raised at home; let’s act as if foreign powers possessed the child.

“He loves me, he does those things because of his emotions.”
The romantic justification of violence. Two drops of emotional sauce.

“Even if I drink water, I gain weight.”
No, darling. You’ve been inactive for years and your body is rebelling, but blaming metabolism hurts less.

“If only I’d been given a chance, you’d see what I could do!”
Yes yes. The twenty years spent waiting for that chance are entirely the system’s fault.

People wake up one morning and realize their mental routine isn’t working. Because routine is simply behavior performed without asking why. The President of the Society of Routine Lovers steps down from his chair one morning. Let him rest a bit; he’s been making a living selling habits for years.

Consciousness activates the first question: “Why?”

“Why am I going to work?”
An innocent question, but it creates a domino effect. The answer is usually clear: “Because I have no other choice.”

If you don’t work, you end up on the street, you starve. We know this story. You have to pay the electricity bill because—
Ah. Wait.
You already pay taxes for roads, water, electricity. You do. So why are you paying the bill again?

Hmm.

Bridge tolls spill off the bridges in your mind. The toll booths stay open, but logic can’t pass through. We are at the most fragile point of the modern order. It breaks easier than a fingernail, but habits are wonderfully nourishing. Even Sephora couldn’t find and sell a product like this.
“Habit Serum – disables logic.”

Transportation collapses. Because you ask whether “getting somewhere” is actually necessary. Do you really need to go anywhere?

You spend more money on the wheeled thing in front of your door than on yourself. And it doesn’t even live as long as you do. It doesn’t move without fuel. You run on breath; it runs on petroleum. What kind of stupidity is this? And every time you use it, the breath you’ll take gets dirtier. Absurd, truly.

And why do you go so far every morning anyway?
Wasn’t time supposed to be precious?
Most of it is spent on the road; the rest peeing and sleeping.

What are you doing, sweetheart?

Conclusion: you realize you don’t actually need to go anywhere. This realization doesn’t disrupt transportation; it paralyzes the system.

The economy stops. Because shopping is built on ignoring the exploitation behind the price–tag relationship. Consciousness lifts the curtain. A cheap product is no longer an “advantage”; it’s someone else’s underpaid labor. The human mind cannot sustain moral awareness and consumer behavior at the same time. That day, no one shops. This is not a protest; it’s psychological incompatibility. Conscience and single-installment credit don’t fit in the same cart.

Workplaces collapse. You didn’t go anyway.

And you notice this ridiculous sentence: “I’ll get back to you.”
It doesn’t exist in Turkish, it has no meaning, no soul.
Written hundreds of times, wrong every time, and no one ever got back. What kind of sentence is this? It’s like an existential crisis. Were people trying to say “I exist while returning”?

Modern working life runs on the assumption that meaningless tasks are meaningful. Otherwise, the nonsense would be unbearable.

Consciousness asks: “What is the function of this email?”
The answer is clear: “Nothing. It’s just process.”

When processes are questioned, they evaporate. Meetings aren’t canceled; they become meaningless. No one can perform anymore, because no one can pretend.

Media can’t function. Media relies on the audience’s forgetfulness. A conscious society doesn’t forget. Yesterday’s statement and today’s statement are compared. Even contradictions within the same sentence are noticed.

What can the media even tell you?
Their consciousness is open too. They don’t feel much like talking.

Those who do want to speak say things like:
“You’ve been listening to perception operations for 45 years. Your grandfather listened too.”

This level of awareness makes broadcasting impossible. Experts speak, but authority collapses. Because now everyone is an authority. The expert isn’t offended; expertise isn’t absolute—it’s limited.

Damn you, consciousness.

We went to all those personal-awareness workshops—why didn’t we learn any of this? Lighting a candle wasn’t enough, apparently. Did we breathe from the wrong place?

Politics freezes. Because politics is the art of reducing complex problems to simple enemies. A conscious society doesn’t swallow that reduction. It realizes that the “them, those, these” are abstract fear figures. When the enemy isn’t clear, slogans don’t work. If slogans don’t work, politics can’t speak.

So what now?
Go smell some flowers?

While consciousness is open, looking around is a good idea. Look at nature. How thoroughly we’ve destroyed it. This time not to “look sensitive,” but to plainly say, “Wow, we really screwed this up.”

Social media breaks an engagement inactivity record. What a noise it was…
Instead of liking that cat video, you could have looked at the cat on the street.
Instead of listening to relationship advice, you could have behaved like a decent human being.

Everything feels fake, empty, meaningless…
You sigh.
Do it.
Your insides have been sighing for years.

Brands wait. No one comes.

The brand questions itself:
“Why am I a brand?”
“What did I actually do?”
“Do I truly serve a purpose, or am I just an expensive label?”

No answer arrives. Inventory freezes. Egos go on sale.

Tension arises in families. Because roles dissolve.

The sentence “I just want what’s best for you” is recognized as a power relationship. Inside everything we claim to want “for your own good,” there’s something that serves us.

And someone bravely says:
“No. I don’t care about you. I’m thinking about myself first.”

Oh.
Relief.

This realization doesn’t cause fights; it causes silence. And silence is the most destructive thing for a family. Turns out there wasn’t that much to talk about anyway.

A woman looks at her husband and screams:
“Who are you?”
Her husband runs around shouting, “Where am I?”

Evening comes. Society is exhausted. This much awareness is too much. Constant cause-and-effect, constant responsibility—it’s not sustainable. The human mind wants automation. Society does too. Please, for the love of god, can someone take this responsibility off our shoulders?

At night, consciousness retreats.

The next day, everything continues.
You wake up, cling to your routine. Go to work.

But damage remains.

Some questions can’t be repressed.
The less you remember, the better.
But what has been seen once is never fully forgotten.

A faint awareness remains somewhere in your mind, like a red stain.
It itches sometimes.

And people go mad most from the place they cannot scratch.

So what should I do—go mad? :)