The Failings Of Superposition

Ray has not caught Katherine's meaning.

He thinks she apologised because the horse bible story is unexpectedly charming.

(Which it is: Horses hear trumpets; horses cry Aha! Who among us does not find that charming?)

But Katherine was being ironical re the bird poo which dropped on Ray's bible. And apologising, as it was she who inadvertently exposed it to the seedy brown faeces.

Job 39, if I'm not mistaken, says Ray, leaning forward.

Shit, Katherine! What is that substance?

Bird dirt, says Katherine. Have you got any Wet Ones?

Me? says Ray. I never have wet ones.......

Tissues? says Katherine. I've only got one I wiped my nose with.

Just wipe the damn stuff OFF, Katherine, says Ray. Then we'll dry it.

Katherine wipes her used tissue across Job 39.

The bulk of the poo comes off on the tissue leaving a sticky brown smear across verse 25.

The Bristlebird (critically endangered) has remained on the branch above Katherine.

He had been reading Job 39 upside down, and had not quite finished his poo.

Plink, a small brown seedy drop falls on Ray's forehead.

Ray looks up, spots the Bristlebird, picks up a stone.

Of course he doesn't know it's a Bristlebird, or he wouldn't.

The Bristlebird flies off, having learned something useful.

Not the bit about horses, but the rest, in which GOD sets out his full job description, thereby explaining (to the suffering Job) why HE cannot always be everywhere.

........

Meanwhile, at the Visitor Centre,  Sweezus calls Doctor Wallenius.

Sends him the photo of himself with funnel web spider.

Dr Wallenius is excited, and says he'll be back in Booderee tomorrow.

.....

The Bristlebird flies down to his mate, who is sitting on two dull eggs in her ovoid dome with a side entrance.

Hello dear, says Mr Bristlebird. I've just read something interesting.

Was it science? asks Mrs Bristlebird.

Sort of, says Mr Bristlbird. It was about not being everywhere at once.

Like quantum physics? says Mrs Bristlebird.

No, quantum physics IS being everywhere at once, says Mr Bristlebird. Unless you're not moving.

Then I've got it all wrong, says Mrs Bristlebird. What about the Big Question?

No joy there, says Mr Bristlebird. Looks like we'll never find out why we've got rictal bristles.