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Clever (incredulous): You are a conspiracy theorist!

Owl-Chymist: God doesn’t play dice. He writes genre-literature. Predictable. Choose Your Own Adventure books. Interactive, open to multiple possibilities ... but the multiple endings written down, every consequence foretold.

Clever (like most people of her time, she cannot read or write): I have seen the Bishop's Holy Books, chained in the Cathedral. Is my story written? Told in advance of my living it?

Owl-Chymist: You? (a curled lip/beak) There is no new thing under the sun. The Truth of our Doctrine is obvious, stable, and eternal. My Chymical Experiments bear witness.

Clever (her mind races): Are you never surprised? ... astonished? ... bewildered by Experimental outcomes?

Owl-Chymist: Ah, you speak of a fashionable whimsey among Modern Innovators, those recusant Chymists who invent Hypotheses for every Experiment. New notions, hastily built upon two or three Experiments, are destroyed by a third or fourth. New ideas trumpeted one week are laughed at the next. A fanciful world-view.

Clever, not understanding technical talk, shrugs and opens her Walnut.

 

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Clever’s Road - 44: GB0099