From a novella about travel and destiny.
I shut my eyes and prayed to the Seven. I wanted to ask, “Why did you let this happen?” but that was blasphemy. You never ask why. It was not a question for you to ask.
The injunction makes perfect sense in the circumstance: needing to concentrate on survival. But at the level of story generation it’s crucial (after discovering what is really happening): when will you become a person who can ask why?
And so for day 3069