We have all the proof we need, it is time to act. We now know for certain why the world is the way it is. And we must find our way clear to bringing about changes that will make it better for all.
For generations we have asked why we are always teetering between romance and war, with strife, conflict, and tension at every turn. We all see the ravages of this constant diet of suffering and trial upon all our bodies. We are worn down, worn thin, and fraying at the edges. We cannot last.
Our philosophers and historians, those few who have been allowed by fate to exist at least, have observed that we seem to be caught in the tension between several distinct storytellers. Our world is pulled this way and that simply because new weavers of tales pick up the threads they can see and shape them to new whims and fancies.
Is that true, or just a convenient lie we can tell our children?
Until now, we have not known the truth.
Until now, we were not ready to believe the truth.
Until now, we were not able to explain the truth.
We have come to believe that the world is a much more complex place than had heretofore been understood. There are layers of reality to the world. Layers that operate according to different rules, different physical laws, different kinds of logic.
We reside on the most malleable of layers, one ruled by the logic of narrative.
Everyone knows the third son will leave home, breaking their mother’s heart, and return as a successful adult to wreak revenge upon his lazy oafs of older brothers. Who among us has been the victim of a younger brother? Who has been that brother?
Note far too many of us share that experience.
Everyone knows that bridges carry a risk of troll infestation. And we still build bridges. And we still deal with trolls when they do inevitably turn up, in the silliest ways possible. Why do we build bridges at all? Why don’t we make peace with the trolls and find work for them in our factories, mines, or mills?
There’s a new bridge going up on the river. Will our history repeat itself?
The world we know is but one layer of the many layers of reality.
There is a deeper layer ruled by a sort of logic known there as probability. We have had some glimpses of it through a carefully contrived deus ex machina device, and it is in many ways a brutish and difficult place. But fortunes stand and fall on the efforts of men and women, not at the whims of fairy godmothers and leprechauns.
With our device, we have discovered that we have an auth—