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Clever (incredulous): You are a conspiracy theorist!
Owl-Chymist (delivers learned lecture): It is said, God doesn’t play Dice. Instead, He writes Genre-Literature. Predictable. Choose Your Own Adventure* Books. Interactive. Open to Multiple Possibilities, but the Multiple Endings written down, every Consequence foretold.
Clever (like most people of her time, cannot read or write): Is my life inside a book?
Owl-Chymist (curled lip/beak expresses disdain): You?
Clever: I’ve seen books. The Bishop keeps books chained in the Cathedral. It is said they speak aloud at midnight in the voice of Lord Jesus. It is said they scream, like a woman in travail, when Lord Judas nears them.
Owl-Chymist (ignores her; resumes lecture): There is no New Thing under the Sun. The Truth of our Doctrine is Obvious, Stable, and Eternal. My Chymical Experiments bear Witness.
Clever: Are you never surprised? Are you never astonished by the unexpected? Are you never contradicted by experimental outcomes?
Owl-Chymist: Ah, you speak of a Fashionable Whimsy among Modern Innovators, those Recusant Chymists who invent Hypotheses for every Experiment. They call it an Enlightened Method. They advance New Notions, hastily built upon Two or Three Experiments, then realize their Pet Theory destroyed by a third or fourth. New Ideas trumpeted one week are laughed at the next. A Fanciful World-View. It will never catch on.
Clever, not understanding technical talk, shrugs and opens her walnut.