How does it feel to be a free-range chicken?
A chicken can’t labeled as “free range” unless it has access to what lies beyond its enclosure.
Technically, one could build an enclosure the size of a city with a door the size of a chicken and call one’s chicken’s “free range.”
Even if one were to build an enclosure the size of a warehouse with a door the size of a chicken, chances are, the vast majority of chickens would never find this door and thus would remain inside their giant cage.
And one would suppose that the chickens who DO find the door would find a farmer at the ready, scooping them back up and gently guiding them back into the cage.
And so, legally, these would be free range chickens.
Now how are we like these chickens?
Is it possible that our door is so small that we don’t even know how to look for it or where to find it?
Are we REALLY free-range humans?
Do we REALLY have free will?
Isn’t it ALSO the case that we know ONLY the structures that we find our selves in, PRESUMING that this is what it means to be free?
How can we prove OTHERWISE?
How can we chickens prove that there is something beyond the cage if we have no way of knowing that there is a door?
Perhaps we could imagine our selves as monkeys.
We are Space Monkey.