Schrödinger's cat, Pavlov's dog and Occam's razor become acquainted.
A cat sat in what could only be described as a white void. There was also a dog and a straight razor. The design of the razor was spartan, neither the blade nor the handle were decorated.
“Why,” the cat pondered, “do we not have names, why don’t I have a name?”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” drooled the dog, “you guys got any food?”
In a sharp, metallic, snickity-snack, voice the razor answered “There’s probably a very simple explanation, there always is.”
“I mean I’m a sadist’s cat, this goof’s a cruel Russian’s dog and you’re some monk’s personal grooming device,” the cat opined, “We inspired greatness but no one knows our names.”
“Hey! Hey!” dribbled the dog, “Hey!”
“Perhaps we can be one thing and also something else at the same time,” glinted the razor.
“We need to scrape away unnecessary assumptions to get to the simplest explanation, categorised and put into boxes of the mind,” purred the cat.
“Are we both simultaneously real and not real?” asked the razor.
“Hey! Hey!” salivated the dog, “No! You are merely an idea personified, but I have always been a real, hungry dog.”
With that the cat and razor faded to white.
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