Walking on Water
A long, thin park stretching the length of Gotham sat on the eastern edge of the town. The Baryon River ran through the park lengthwise.
The Baryon was miraculous. It’s bed was perfectly flat for its entire course. It’s width never varied from 8 feet, 7 inches.
The Baryon’s source was believed to be a spring of ever-constant flow. The source was never found because the Gothamites were totally lacking in curiosity and impetus.
It’s mouth was a one-foot-high waterfall that flowed into a serene lake. At least, that was the myth. The mouth, too, was never found. And it’s possible that what was serene was not the lake, but the Gothamites. Although, catatonic may be a more accurate word.
Most of the time the depth of the Baryon did not vary more than 10% above or below half an inch. Yet, due to the river’s chemical composition, it was impossible to see to the bottom. Instead, an opaque, multi-hued shimmer shone from its surface in even the dimmest of light. No one dared attempt to cross it, for they believed that, reality notwithstanding, it was several feet deep. No Gothamite had ever learned to swim.
On the Gotham side of the river, a small, but well decorated and furnished cabin sat on the emerald-green, weed-blanketed bank. The local rich and famous took turns renting the cabin so they could be caught there awares by the paparazzi.
It came to pass one Thursday afternoon, at 2:37 p.m. Gotham Standard Time, that a violent storm unleashed itself upstream from Gotham. It was far enough away the no Gothamites were aware that it was raging. Yet the Baryon rose more than 3 feet.
During the storm the privileged cabin was occupied by a snake-oil tycoon and his big-bosomed secretary. According to them, they were deeply engaged in a penetrating discussion of the medicinal benefits of snake oil at the time.
So engrossed were they in their discussions that they did not notice the affects of the storm until well after their debate had climaxed and they had smoked some tobacco. It was only then that they gazed out and saw that the waters, which had receded by then, had lifted the cabin and floated it to the opposite shore.
Cut off by what they and everyone of a typical Gothamite level of intelligence considered to be in unbridgeable river, they panicked. They shouted as loud as they could for help. The large-lunged secretary let out a particularly loud roar.
The Gothamites did hear the bellowing and they rushed to the shore. But they could see no way to save their fellow citizens.
Eventually, Kristi joined the crowd on the bank of the river. Having already heard about the cause of the commotion, she carried with her a long, strong rope.
Walking on Water. Sort of.
Kristi knew the secret of the river’s depth because she had tested it with a stick years before. She handed one end of the rope to a strong Gothamite standing toward the back of the crowd and told him to hold onto it. She walked through the crowd and calmly across the river, uncoiling the rope as she went. The river did not rise up even to the top of the soles of her shoes.
Witnessing this, all of the people on both sides of the river raised up their voices and shouted, “She walks on water. Kristi truly is a Sage and The One True Prophet of God One.”
And Kristi tied the end of the rope to a hook on the cabin that had been used to drag the cabin into place when it was first positioned in the park. And she took care to make sure the rope was attached securely.
And Kristi called out to the people across the river and she said unto them, “Everyone grab hold of the rope and pull.”
And the people of Gotham did grab hold of the rope and pull. And the cabin and its occupants slid across the river and back into its original position.
And the people praised the miracle that Kristi delivered through God One. And they told their relatives and friends of Kristi’s miracle. And the word of Kristi walking on water spread far beyond the borders of Gotham.
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