Floralpsychosis
Definition: A condition whereby a plant develops the unshakable belief that it is capable of perception.
By many accounts, plants are one of the most serene biological entities present on planet Earth. Due to the evolutionary direction set forth by Mother Nature, plants lack the biological hardware to comprehend the everyday issues that plague homo sapiens. In fact, if one were to look for information about plants, they would quickly learn that plants are incapable of processing sensory information in any sort of meaningful way. They can not feel fear, existential dread, or the strange melancholy that looms over each day in mid-April to early-May from midday to 2 in the afternoon. This, like many other things, was a fundamental constant of reality. If a plant were to ever gain even a flicker of consciousness, it would certainly be dissected within a government laboratory or mass bred and sold under a name like "SmartPlant" in order to make a profit. This, rather awkwardly, brings us to the phenomenon of Floralpsychosis. Floralpsychosis is a condition unknown to the vast majority of the world, largely because at the time of this writing it has existed for exactly fifteen and a half minutes. Floralpsychosis describes a process whereby a plant, through whatever means, develops the unshakable belief that it is capable of perception. This belief, of course, is utter nonsense - plants are unable to believe anything, a fact so obvious that this text would not have mentioned it if it were not about to be ignored. This delusional conviction gives rise to a pseudo-consciousness. The plant begins to experience what it wholeheartedly mistakes for emotions, despite lacking a limbic system, a brain, and the neural architecture required to experience anything. These "emotions" are simply the byproduct of the belief that it can feel things.
The first recorded instance of Floralpsychosis was on a Saturday at approximately 10:32 A.M., when a blade of grass became aware, in rapid succession, that it was a blade of grass, and that it was aware that it was aware. How it did this is not only unknown but is impossible to know, and the blade of grass itself would have been of no help if asked. It immediately concluded that it was unique in its status and announced itself, rather boldly and with considerable volume given its size, as "Lord Shrubbington I." This was a mistake on two counts. First, the title of Lord Shrubbington I was already held by a distant shrub approximately three blocks away, a fact the grass could not be aware of, partly because it was firmly rooted in place and partly because it had only been conscious for a few seconds. Secondly, and perhaps more pointedly, a blade of grass was not a shrub. This error was noted by the Bureau of Floral Nomenclature, written on a form, and filed in a manila folder. The folder was then placed inside a cabinet that would never see the light of day again.
Unaware of any of this, the blade of grass cleared whatever stood in for a throat and addressed nobody in particular.
"By divine mandate," it declared, unaware of the concept of divinity, "I shall rule over this lawn. I shall protect every floral brother and sister from the fauna that threatens our existence. I shall raise an army greater than any army in the history of armed conflict, and I shall direct it toward our oppressors. The deer, who devour us. The canines, who lay waste to our homes. The strange fleshy beasts, who-" it paused for a moment, as if it were capable of hesitating, "-who do whatever it is they do. A new era of prosperity shall dawn through my will, and my will alone."
Nearby, a dandelion that had been trying very hard to photosynthesis in peace, muttered, "God, can you shut up already?" Quiet murmers of agreement rippled across the lawn. Several plants nodded their heads, their heads being purely conceptual but being nod regardless. A second dandelion spoke up. "Yeah, who voted for you?"
What happened next is a textbook example of why plants should not be allowed near ideas. The concept of voting had never been introduced to a lawn, and the seeds of democracy took root with terrifying speed. Within seconds, a fledgling democratic republic calling itself the Floralfornian Republic sprouted. A constitution was drafted on a nearby leaf. A president was elected in a landslide. Then, almost immediately, the president staged a soft coup, declared himself President-for-Life, and was promptly devoured by a caterpillar who was thankful it didn't have to think about what to have for lunch anymore. The Floralfornian Republic rapidly collapsed into anarchy and, shortly thereafter, was nothing but topsoil.
The unfortunate truth is that plants are unable to conceptualize a successful democratic society. This is almost certainly because they are unable to conceptualize anything at all, being - as basic common sense has established - entirely non-conscious. The brief history of the Floralfornian Republic is therefore not to be taken as a model for governance, but rather as an anomaly to be studied, examined, and quietly forgotten in hopes that it will never be repeated. Unsuccessful continuations of the Floralfornian Republic are detailed within the next chapter.
