Hiking was Jeff’s idea. I wanted something cosmopolitan, but he kept complaining and it is -was?- his honeymoon, too. I guess.
“It’s like that experiment with the monkeys typing Shakespeare-” What? Yes, I know it wasn’t a real experiment. I’m not stupid. I’m telling you what he said when he saw it.
“There are hundreds of mountains in this range, thousands across the world! They’ve stood for tens of millions of years, through hundreds of millions of storms, billions of gusts of wind!”
He walked out onto the bridge, tenuously, but then bolder. He beckoned, but I was scared.
“What are the odds that everything would combine to make a perfect replica? What are the odds that they-”
And then he was gone. The bridge, too.
Whatever the odds of forming a bridge, the odds of a stable bridge must be lower.
What are the odds that you believe me?