It was a simple divide. The land allowed for the decision to be made, with one island to the right and the other to the left. It meant they could choose. There were those who considered the technology evil. It wasn’t the technology’s fault, of course, but it enabled people’s true core to be exaggerated. Slightly power-hungry men became consumed. Women who wanted to be the best now desired to be admired by all. There was no natural limitation or moderation. You were either going for it or not.

But there were those who preferred the simplicity. They didn’t want to sit at a desk. Instead, they chose to feel the dirt under their feet and the breeze in their hair. Not the tiles or the air conditioning. They wanted to eat with the season. Swim in the water. Sit around a fire pit at night and tell tales of the monsters in the forest.

So it was divided. Those that preferred comfort went to the left. The ones that wanted to turn on the lights at the wall when darkness fell, and to wake up to shrills of alarms. The ones that preferred to sleep when the sun fell and wake up to the sound of birds went to the right.

A bridge was created, of steel and vine, to present the two ideologies. To prevent a natural merge, it was decided that a person could choose twice in one’s life if they wanted to venture across the bridge. Every year a ceremony was held, where the people could meet at the bridge. Friends could shake hands, and a drink or snack could be had. For a day, the two sides could socialize. But then, as the sun set, you had to decide which way you were going, and that was the way you had to stay. If you switched sides, you would get branded with an arrow, and you were only allowed two arrows before you were banned from walking across the bridge.

Giving you that choice allowed you to experience how the other lived, knowing that if you wanted, you could go home if you didn’t like it. But if you went home, you could never return.

Not that the whole process stopped the creatures from wandering between lands. Dragons flew across the water divide, as did goblins travel with small flower-printed carpet bags. But most tended to enjoy one half better than the other. There was more gold in Vertex, but more clean water in Artizan. In Artizan, there was often a good apple pie cooling on a windowsill, or a fish drying in the sun, that could be snatched and gobbled. But in Vertex there was a drink that enabled you to forget yesterday and small pills that made you think you could see you tomorrow.

It is within these spaces that we find our stories. Most of them will not be grand or heroes seeking justice. They will be the stories of the side quests. The quaint. The ordinary. Yet it is within each of these that we create a little change that adds up to something far more magical than a single protagonist could ever hope to achieve.

The world forever is changing, as much as we wish it were still. Decisions that were supposed to last an era will die within a lifetime. Opinions change; some people grow. Others insist on staying the same. Two people who grew up in the same household may stop growing at different points. The only consistency is that there is no consistency.

If everything is possible, then impossibility exists. If God experiences everything, then perhaps we all have a little God in each of us.

In which case, we all have the power to achieve great things, or nothing at all. It is up to us to decide.

Pick a Tale (Well, right now that’s easy. There is only one!)