Ode to the Unknown

The expedition labelled everything it encountered. Red birds meant warning, white animals meant winter, and glass boxes meant safety. Then a white rhinoceros with a rooster-red crest appeared, carrying a woman and a song no chart could classify. The scholars argued until sunset. If they could not name it, they decided, it must be dangerous.

The woman lifted her instrument and played a note without a title. The rhinoceros knelt. The balloon descended. Even the glass caught the vibration.

Nothing attacked them; nothing explained itself. One scholar erased the word UNKNOWN from his map and drew an open circle instead. They camped there for three nights. By the time they left, they had learned less than expected—and feared the world much less.