The rain on the roof tapped in soft staccato punctuation to our conversation. We amicably covered ground on politics, religion, and the finer graces of the feminine form. However, when I spoke of experiments, discoveries, and the field of intellectual enlightenment, the grand wizard of Laphue looked at me, his dark eyes narrowing in disbelief.
“Your description of the scientific method sounds like an artificial construct used to cobble together shoes without soles.” He emphasized his meaning by leaning forward and pointing to the bottom of his boot. “Oh, to be certain, you’ve cataloged, and identified all the important parts, but it seems to me that you stand powerless to use them; constrained by the onus of empirical proof over the expediency of metaphysical action.” As he sat back in his chair a young boy entered the room. “I dare say,” The Wizard continued. “my apprentice, Albert here, knows more about what actually works in the natural world than all your scientists will ever deduce.”
Albert looked at me with uncertainty. It was a moment of clarity underscoring my current situation that was impossible to refute.
