The Prophecy Machine

14

Finn sat up. Letitia snored lightly, a lock of hair rising on her cheek with every peaceful breath.

“Beads and Weeds, dear, I can't believe you'd do this to me. It's inconsiderate, is what it is. I really feel you should apologize.”

“You lull her to sleep with your babble, and you want an apology to boot?”

Julia gave a tinny chuckle from her perch across the room. “You nearly put me under, and I've never been asleep in my life.”

“You didn't have to listen. Everything I say isn't directed at you.”

“Everything you talked about is me. It's nothing we haven't discussed before. I am always loathe to agree with you, Finn. You have a sizeable head as it is. In this case, though, I quite approve. Delving into the microscopic world is a bold, exciting idea. If, as I have learned, the world is made of Earth, Air, Sky and Water, what indeed are those things made of?

“Of all the tomes on your shelves, I find the ones on the philosophy of the cosmos the most intriguing of all.

“I feel we understand each other, Finn. It's no great secret that you irritate me quite a bit. You think too much of yourself, you strut about like every human male I've seen- noble, merchant, soldier and commoner alike. Including, I might add, the dead, who seem no wiser in one state of being than the next.

“Still, we can do some quite interesting things together, in spite of your failings. Even if you're slow in your thinking, I have to say you had the wit to make me, and I give you much credit for that.

“One thing, though, Finn. And this we haven't talked about. We can make things smaller, and doubtless smaller still. If we do, though, why? I am quite fascinated with the effort, the drama of discovery, the thrill of the chase. But I see little sense in the result. What good will tiny things do? What on earth could you use them for?

“You couldn't sell them, for no one's fool enough to buy a thing they can't even see. And surely they'd be stepped on all the time, or simply blow away. Like so many good ideas, I fear this one lacks any value except as an oddity, a curiosity of sorts. Has this perhaps occurred to you?

“Finn?

“Finn …?”