There was once a village that sold oranges. They were really delicious, perhaps the best in the country. People came from far and wide to sample them and nobody ever left disappointed.
Unbeknownst to them, the hill the orange trees were growing on was, in fact, a massive ancient structure buried under the soil. It was filled with secrets lost to the sands of time, the kind of discovery that could rewrite history books and spawn entire knew fields of study.
There was one man who knew. A village elder who had heard stories passed down for generations and seen clues with his own eyes. He guarded that secret closely and featfully, never passing the stories on to his next of kin, hoping they would be buried with him when he died.
But things dont always go as planned. When he least expected it, his grandson stumbled upon the entrance to the hill, saw the truth, and immediately understood. He was outraged but approached the elder calmly and explained, “We have something good here. But underneath it is something far better. It might be time to share that with the world.”
And the old man thought cautiously about it because, frankly, change can be scary. But his grandson had planted a new seed. And in the meantime they kept growing sweet oranges while that ‘something better’ waited out of sight.
