Written with the ostensive purpose of raising public awareness over the plight of the poor in 19th century England, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol became an instant holiday classic that has never once been out of print since its initial publication in 1843. In addition to being an undeniable literary masterpiece, Dickens’ hopeful tale of human transformation is also a prescient piece of neuroscience, anticipating an aspect of human consciousness that was not understood until just a little over two decades ago.

It was once thought that when the human brain is not engaged in some purposeful task requiring concentration, it is “at rest,” or more or less idle. Recent developments in neuroimaging technology, however, have shown that nothing could be further from the truth.

The “resting brain” is every bit as active as it is when it is dutifully working on a math problem or preparing a tax form, although the activity shifts to a different part of the brain during such periods of directed attention. Research on this resting state activity has revealed a discrete brain network that kicks in whenever the brain is not actively engaged in a goal-oriented task. So pervasive is this neural mode, active whenever our “central executive network” is not engaged in a task, and even sometimes when it is supposed to be engaged in one, that its discoverer Marcus Raichle named it the “default” mode.

A bit more colloquially, neuroscientist Daniel Levitin has called it the “daydreaming” or “mind-wandering” mode, which is an apt description of the “fluid and nonlinear” mode of thinking associated with it. It is a state of mind in which unexpected connections are made and creative insights occur. It is also involved in “remembering the past, envisioning future events, and considering the thoughts and perspectives of other people,” and this is where Dickens’ 19th century tale overlaps with 21st century neuroscience.

Ebenezer Scrooge is a man endowed with a powerfully dominant central executive network. Throughout the early part of the story, his single-minded capacity for staying on task—that of making and keeping money—is his defining trait. He is not at all susceptible to the sort of mind-wandering that mystifyingly afflicts the Bob Cratchits of his tightly circumscribed world. He is also almost completely devoid of understanding and empathy for his fellow human being, a deficit that has been associated with connectivity problems in the default mode network. From the moment he is visited by the ghost of Jacob Marley, however, the remainder of Scrooge’s story might accurately be described as a systematic rehabilitation of his default mode network. The three ghosts that enter his chambers after Marley’s visit whisk him off to a fondly remembered past, a sympathetically imagined present, and a fearfully envisioned future. The result of these unaccustomed forays outside the familiar boundaries of his solitary world is a newfound understanding of, and sympathy toward, his fellow human being. In other words, Scrooge develops a “theory of mind” regarding the other people in his world, and this theory of mind is responsible for his ultimate redemption as a human being. It is the default mode network that is responsible for his newfound theory of mind.

While Dickens was obviously not a real neuroscientist (the term didn’t even exist until a hundred years after his death), he was a lifelong student of the human psyche. Our intimate and enduring identification with Ebenezer Scrooge’s Christmas Eve transformation is testimony to the perceptiveness, and foresight, of Dickens’ avocational research into the workings of the human mind.