“What’s it like?”
Aire took from a rack on the wall an envelope, and from it extracted a thin fragment, about an inch long, dark brown in colour, and feeling like rock.
“Why, this isn’t—”
“It requires microscopy to show that it’s wood at all.”
“I’d never believe it, surely.”
“It’s almost petrified. That happens, extremely rarely, when certain kinds of wood are immersed in running water for long periods. The organic substance is replaced by precipitated mineral matter.”
“Well, it doesn’t strike me as being of such vast importance.”
“One wonders, for instance, what’s kept it submerged and stationary.”
At the door of departure I laughed. “A question indeed. But I must be off.”
“Sounds as if you had plans for the afternoon.”