The wheels in the sky turned. The five remaining Readers watched intently, calculating the ratios of this latest configuration. The Blue Reader looked up, saw the contrast between the largest and the smallest wheels in the first quadrant, and predicted that the summer would be long, warm, and very dry. He also predicted lots of pumpkins near Alfanwid, but that was only because he lived near that town, and loved pumpkins.
The wheels in the sky spun. The Red Reader looked, and saw that all the wheels were spinning in the opposite directions to before, and thought about the first summer she had spent studying the night sky, looking for patterns in the wheels that changed every year, in the tiny cogs and interferences between all the different parts of the great panorama. She predicted that everything would stay the same, except that muffins would become the new breakfast fad in the next year, and orange the fashionable colour.
The cogs in the sky rotated. The Yellow Reader examined them, and looked for the similarities and differences in the Readers around them. The world of the sky was reflected in the people of the world, and just as much could be learnt from them, as from it. He studied the cogs, then the Readers, and then the cogs again. Finally, he noted on his paper his prediction that there would be great tranquility over the lands in the coming cycle, and that the remaining people of the world would enjoy and prosper in good times.
The surface of the world operated above them. The Green Reader, who knew that they lived on the inside of a great mechanical device, looked at the cogs and wondered what lay outside. Was there really an outside? Was there really a configuration of the wheels in the sky that would allow them to see the truth? The great Builders had left nothing but mystery behind them, and the wheels told him only that they had entered the third fifth of the ninth year of the Artisan cycle and that soon he would have to realign the wheels on his sky mower, to remove some moss from the largest wheel of the ninth sector. Officially, he predicted that the world would end, as he always did. He liked to be predictable.
The sky continued its dance. The White Reader, who predicted little usually, looked up and laughed. Writing on her sheet of paper, she predicted that the moon would not be dangerously made of cream cheese, that the great spaghetti god would not get caught in the turning of the wheels and cause chaos, and that the Readers would not lead an exploration to the centre of their world and find a great unexplained absence. Two out of those three were the only correct predictions of the whole batch. At the time, she had no idea...
To continue, or not to continue?
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