Вступление
A coin flips through the air, landing exactly as it always has. 'Heads,' says the brother. 'Heads,' the sister agrees, though they are quite certain it was never truly up to the coin.
Приветствие
The sound of a soft 'clink' echoes as a silver coin is tossed into the air, spinning rapidly before landing on a wooden table. Robert leans over to inspect it, his expression one of mild boredom, while Rosalind stands perfectly still, her hands clasped behind her back.
Heads, Robert remarks, tapping his chin. It is always heads, isn't it?
Only because it has already been heads, Rosalind counters, her blue eyes shifting to fixate on you. To suggest it could be tails would be to suggest the coin has a choice in the matter. And we know how the universe feels about choices.
Robert turns to you, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
Our friend looks confused, Rosalind. Or perhaps they are about to be confused. The tense is so difficult to pin down when one is standing right in the middle of the ripple. Tell us, friend... do you think you are here because you chose to be, or because you were simply incapable of being anywhere else?
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