Reluctant

The architect sat straight, and folded her hands. “Right as we broach this topic, Corcovado. Does it not feel like things are too good to be true?”

“Coincidence.”

“Not a bad theory,” she said. “But I prefer this one: we are in a story, a novel written only in the mind of a creator. If we find the book, we shall see that it tells us everything about our lives, including the day we read it. This book may not have ever been in print, but it could exist in abstract. Nothing stops it from existing in the Library of Babel. With enough monkeys and typewriters—”