"...A white rabbit is pulled out of a top hat. Because it is an extremely large rabbit, the trick takes many billions of years. All mortals are born at the very tip of the rabbit's fine hairs, where they are in a position to wonder at the impossibility of the trick. But as they grow older they work themselves ever deeper into the fur. And there they stay. They become so comfortable they never risk crawling back up the fragile hairs again. Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence. Some of them fall off, but others cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' they yell, 'we are flatting in space!' But none of the people down there care.
'What a bunch of troublemakers!' they say. And they keep on chatting: Would you pass the butter, please? How much have our stocks risen today? What is the price of tomatoes? Have you heard that Princess Di is expecting again?
When Sophie's mother got home later that afternoon, Sophie was practically in shock. The tin containing the letters from the mysterious philosopher was safely hidden in the den. Sophie had tried to start her homework but could only sit thinking about what she had read.
She had never thought so hard before! She was no longer a child--but she wasn't really grown up either. Sophie realized that she had already begun to crawl down into the cozy rabbit's fur, the very same rabbit that had been pulled form the top hat of the universe. But the philosopher had stopped her. He--or was it a she?--had grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her from the tip of the fur where she had played as a child. And there, on the outermost tips of the fine hairs, she was once again seeing the world as if for the very first time.
The philosopher had rescued her. No doubt about it. The unknown letter writer had saved her from the triviality of everyday existence.
When mom got home at five o'clock, Sophie dragged her into the living room and pushed her into an armchair.
'Mom--don't you think it's astonishing to be alive?" she began.
Her mother was so surprised that she didn't answer at first. Sophie was usually doing her homework when she get home.
'I suppose I do--sometimes,' she said.
'Sometimes? yes but--don't you think it's astonishing that the world
exists at all?"
'Now look, Sophie, stop talking like that.'
'Why? Perhaps you think the world is quite normal?'
'Well isn't it? More or less, anyway.'
Sophie saw that that philosopher was right. Grownups took the world for granted. They had let themselves be lulled into the enchanted sleep of their humdrum existence once and for all.
'You've just grown so used to the world that nothing surprised you any more.'
'What on earth are you talking about?'
'I'm talking about you getting so used to everything. Totally dim, in other words.'
'I will not be spoken to like that, Sophie!'
'All right, I'll put it another way. You've made yourself comfortable deep down in the fur of a white rabbit that is being pulled out of the universe's top hat right now. And in a minute you'll put the potatoes on. Then you'll read the paper and after half an hour's nap you';; watch the news on TV!'
An anxious expression came over her mother's face. She did indeed go into the kitchen and put the potatoes on. After a while she came back into the living room, and this time it was she who pushed Sophie into an armchair.
'There's something I must talk to you about,' she began. Sophie could tell by her voice that it was something serious.
'You haven't gotten yourself mixed up with drugs, have you, dear?'
Sophie was just about to laugh, but she understood why the question was being brought up now.
'Are you nuts?' she said. 'That only makes you
duller!'
No more was said that evening about either drugs or white rabbits."
- Jostein Gaarder,
Sophie's World
