What happened when the incomprehensible became comprehensible?
Many claimed that such a thing was impossible. They argued that the incomprehensible, by definition, could not be understood without ceasing to be what it was. To them, attempting to comprehend it was nothing more than a waste of time. However, there existed another possibility: that such a claim was not a truth, but a way to avoid a deeper question.
—
In a remote town called Ignaro, a young man walked through streets filled with life. Shops lined both sides of the road, and the crowd moved without pause, pushing past one another with the everyday urgency of reaching somewhere.
The air was saturated with countless scents. Some were pleasant; others caused mild discomfort. Aren perceived them all as he moved forward without haste.
The young man was named Aren Khaelis. In his hand, he held a shopping list entrusted to him by his older brother. It was not an extraordinary task, but Aren had accepted it with seriousness.
That day had been special to him.
He had completed his formal education, a modest achievement for some, yet a meaningful one for his family. To Aren, it represented progress—the idea of moving forward rather than remaining stagnant.
As he was returning home, one of the nearby restaurants began to release thick smoke. The reaction was immediate. Panic spread among the passersby, who scattered amid shouts and disordered movement.
Aren did not stop.
His attention shifted toward a nearby scene.
A little girl gently tugged at her mother's clothing and asked, with complete naturalness:
"Mom, why does fire burn?"
The woman answered without much thought:
"Because it's hot, dear. That's why it burns."
The answer seemed sufficient. The girl did not insist.
But Aren paused to think.
The question, as simple as it was common, stirred an unease within him that was difficult to explain. He knew the answer was accepted by everyone, and yet he could not feel satisfied with it.
Was it truly an explanation?
Or merely a way of naming the effect without understanding the cause?
That doubt followed him home. He handed the groceries to his brother and said nothing about what had happened.
That night, sleep did not come easily.
Aren remained awake for hours, repeating the question over and over, trying to find what he was missing. The more he thought, the more evident it became that he could not reach an answer he found sufficient.
"Why can't I understand it?" he wondered.
"Am I ignoring something essential?"
He had always been known as a curious person, but he had never experienced anything like this. What troubled him most was not the question itself, but the fact that such a simple doubt—one whose answer seemed obvious to everyone—managed to unsettle him so deeply.
In the end, exhaustion overcame his mind.
Aren fell asleep without reaching a conclusion.
The doubt remained.
And although it had no visible consequences at the time, it would later become clear that it was not the question that mattered, but the fact that Aren did not accept an answer simply because it was sufficient for others.