Part 1: Arlo and the Universe

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The people below longed to be in one of the worlds they were told about. They looked at the sky at night, and sent their wishes out in a flurry of futile whispers that struck the edge of the atmosphere and recoiled back hopelessly.

Wishes were wasted in the world to which they belonged; listened to, and often pitied, but agonisingly ineffective; their lives already stitched with care since the night was born.

Arlo studied them. Arlo watched them play out their stories. Arlo had always done this and Arlo always would. More often that not, the task was simple; the people would scurry along their paths and bumble through their lives, existing but not thriving, 'seeking' meaning by destroying those who insisted their version of the truth was superior, and so Arlo merely had to observe. Some of them seemed to see something mystical, but none of them could ever manage to grasp it. Most of them saw nothing at all. And that was as it should be, Arlo decided.

And that was as it remained. Until one day, Arlo developed an interest in one of the people in particular, because this person had recognised more magic than people normally did. Arlo did not intervene; each time Arlo went to do so, curiosity conquered sense, and so nothing was said, and nothing was done. And all the while, this small person, a girl of indeterminable teenage years, continued to gain an understanding of the things that transcended the thoughts people should have, that would later allow her to unpick the tapestry fashioned for her. And Arlo would never be able to explain why this had felt the right thing, why the girl had not been set back on her route, as was the required protocol, but when asked, Arlo would simply smile and say -

"They wanted to know what we knew.
It turns out, we knew next to nothing, and the cosmos had plans for us too"

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