I had intended for the following to be my first post in the forum, but by the time the staff eventually got around to approving my registration, the causative thread had quite dropped off and trust me, it wasn't worth bumping. Still, enjoy.
Somewhere in Beelzebuddy's frontal cortex, a neuron fired.
The firing of the neuron was random, like a coin flip is random. That is, not TRULY random, not a quantum process - the temperature was high enough to quickly collapse any putative waveform - but difficult to predict. If you knew every eddy of the local atmosphere, you could correctly call a coin in the air, and if you knew the state of every afferent onto this neuron, you likewise could have accurately predicted this event.
The neuron's activity didn't mean much by itself. It had already fired several times that second. Its efforts had been wasted, like Twilight fanfiction, half its action potentials stillborn due to lateral inhibition and the other half falling on deaf ears. So to speak.
This time was different. This time, the prevailing local activity responsible for fueling the inhibitory gating was unstable from fighting homeostatic mechanisms for the last second or so. This time, our neuron activated one of its peers, which had itself almost decided to fire and was teetering on the brink. Then it and its buddy excited a mutual colleague. Then another, and another. Old friends, whose long-acetylated tubulin circuity had been lying dormant for just this moment. New acquaintances, whose active synapses were so fresh they hardly had any molecular infrastructure at all.
One neuron acting alone means nothing. But a million neurons in sync make a Pattern.
Within a few hundred milliseconds, the growing mosaic of activity had gathered enough momentum to wrest control of the lateral inhibitory system from the dominant pattern. Armed with inhibition, our new pattern could dampen any upstart cells trying to wrest their throne in a similar fashion. The unexpected strength of the pattern spurred the supporting glial network into action as well, which dilated capillaries for more oxygen, swept up stray neurotransmitter, and generally stabilized the system. This activity was in it for the long haul: 5, maybe even 10 seconds. Though it was top dog for the moment, the pattern had to work fast. Already homeostasis, a catchall term for the brain's myriad stalwart defenses against obsession and epilepsy, was beginning to set in.
Like the firing of the first neuron, the pattern was seemingly random, but really not. In another frontal cortex, or in another part of Beelze's brain, it would have been meaningless nonsense. Yet it had formed again and again in the past, with minor variations each time, in response to similar stimuli. This active pattern wasn't caused by a thought, and it didn't cause a thought. It was a thought. Someone familiar with Beelze's cortex, watching the activity build, would have known at once what it meant: that someone was wrong on the Internet.
Communication with the other lobes linked desire to detail. Where? The hippocampus (aided by the temporal lobe) chimed in: the Randi forums. Who? The parietal cortex wasn't too sure about this, but it had to be someone. Y'know, people. About what? According to a different bit of the frontal cortex, the brain's function and "consciousness," possibly the second most misunderstood and abused scientific term after "quantum."
The active patterns tried to engage the motor cortex, but couldn't muster the pep. Freakin' everything tries to hit the motor cortex, it wasn't about to get into gear over a bit of nerdrage. Luckily, just then aid came from an unexpected source - collaterals down to the left amygdala had returned with a fresh supply of outrage. THAT was worth acting on. Now something had to be done.
But, like so many other things, it couldn't be done immediately. There was a great deal of prep work to do first, and it had been a long few seconds. For now, the pattern was content to die back in favor of its successor, a thought which went something along the lines of "now how the hell do I register on this forum?"
This post brought to you in part by the pathetic fallacyTM. The pathetic fallacyTM: it wants to be used!