Uncertain Until It Happens

A smell of boiling potatoes wafts through the church.

Shall we go back now? asks François-René.

Okay, says Arthur. I don't think my prayers have been answered.

You can't know that, says François-René.

I smell boiling potatoes, says Arthur.

Don't tell me..... begins François-René.

Can't, says Arthur.

Why not? asks François-René.

Science, says Arthur. Everything is uncertain, till it happens.

This is the first time Arthur has thought something even vaguely scientific.

They could still be fried, says Arthur.

Like Schroedinger's cat, says François-René. I'm with you.

They stroll back to Méen's little kitchen.

Feeling better? asks Méen.

Much better, says François-René. Do you have any cooking oil?

No, says Méen. Only scented unguent.

No good, says François-René. It's for the potatoes.

Maclou shakes his head. Just be thankful.

However, says François-René, Arthur has brought up a salient point about the lost babies.

What's that? asks Maclou.

At this moment, they are both alive and dead, says François-René. It's science.

That is not science, says Méen.

Modern science, says Arthur.

Yes, modern science, says François-René.

The two old Welsh monks exchange glances.

Let them think this. After all, who if not god can have invented modern science?

.......

Schroedinger's cat notwithstanding, ditto god, we are in a different position.

Should we wish to, we can see into the box.

The question is, do we have the courage?

Warning: we shouldn't read on if we don't.

........

The cardboard box floats on the ocean, with the baby chicks inside.

It has flipped once or twice. This too is science.

They were paddling, with their feet through the holes in the cardboard, crying Aie! and Aie-ee!

Then, flip! Upside down suddenly. Feet paddling the air.

Gravity acts. They drop downwards. Plop. Plop.

Now the top of the box is the bottom. It grows soggy.

The baby birds scramble upright, their feet drop through the floor.

Once again they are able to paddle.

But to paddle takes energy, and energy must come from somewhere.

Saint Roley looks up through the holes in the tattered cardboard vessel.

At first he sees only the inhuman sky. Then...

....a dark shadow covers the holes.