He admired the suspension bridge. It spanned a wide, forceful river. “Note the cable,” he told his protege. “It is composed of a bundle of yet more cables that are in themselves yet more cables.”

“Turtles all the way down, huh, boss?” the protege said.

“That’s a way of putting it.” He smiled indulgently as he hugged himself against the wind. “IT would be incorrect to assume the cable’s importance becomes inconsequential as its size decreases.”

He looked pointedly at the young ’un and continued. “Each part, small and large, is vital to the overall integrity.”

“I get it, boss,” the protege said quietly. “You’re telling me I shouldn’t have done anything to Mung the Barbarous and Nong the Pure.”

“Yes. Their individual realities spurred a reality of proliferating timelines—a mess, to be sure—yet belonging to the natural order. In fact, your decision? Also part of the natural order. But you need to be careful. Cut the wrong one, and it all could go down.”

The suspension bridge groaned as its cables snapped.