“There are always stories. Aren’t stories how we paper over the gaps of what we don’t know?”
The proprietor grinned. “I like to think that stories create the bridges leading us from what we already know to what we don’t know yet.”
They came to the top, and Wander whistled.
The rock here was dark—blackened, as if it had been burned and charred.
“Just as there can be many fish swimming in the same ocean,” said Rashid, “it is said that this is but one world in a sea of many. And some believe that many thousands of years ago, something happened in a world that, shall we say, is a neighbor of ours. Whatever happened there—on this spot but in that world—was so powerful that its effects were felt not just there, but here and perhaps in other worlds too.”
“So you’re saying some sort of explosion in another place blew up a hill here?”
The proprietor nodded.
“It’s definitely a great story,” said Wander.
“Sometimes,” said the proprietor, “a great story is all you need.”
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