Every dedicated reader- and I am a dedicated reader, so I know- seeing dryads in knotted tree trunks and nymphs in rushing streams, hearing phantom clarion calls announcing her entrance into a crowded room, tasting iron and salt at the sight of a classmate’s scraped knee, understands that reality is mutable- a world enhanced by the power of imagination. In the dark recesses of the human brain the world is interpreted through a lens unique to each person. The world’s greatest mathematicians see in the simple smack of tennis ball against racket a whole host of instantaneous computations: impulse, gravity, and air resistance all calculated in an instant by the genius of Mother Nature. From one perfectly pitched sneeze, the musician constructs Beethoven’s Fifth, while the aspiring doctor predicts the spread of such symptoms to other nearby hosts. The reader has a tendency to embellish. All the manufactured laws of physics are putty in her hands. In joy, she bounces out of her chair and floats across the room, drawn upward by the buoyant nature of her heart. Thunder and lightning accompany her horror, dramatic drum rolls her excitement, romantic violin music her love. The world must be so dull, so meaningless, for those of scientific mind. How can anyone look up at the clouds and see only partially condensed water molecules? To the reader, it is inconceivable that any human being could awaken on a frosty winter morning, breathe the fresh, evergreen-scented air, and not feel that they have passed through some hitherto unknown gateway into Narnia. The reader is in the best position to realize that fact and fiction are inextricably intertwined; any attempt to separate them destroys a vital component of everyday life. When the high A flat is exactly 880.6 hertz rather than the heart-rending peak of a tumultuous wave of sorrow, when the ball reaches the net propelled by a precise initial velocity rather than the cheers of loyal fans, when the warm plate of dark chocolate caramel brownies is a three-inch thick slab of glutinous fat veined with sugar rather than a rich, chewy mixture of mouth-watering guilty satisfaction, the world is irredeemably misrepresented.