Next to the shoe tree, the bush grew, and the story encoded in its DNA flowered. The newly fruited books hung heavy from the branches.
Daphne plucked one at random, opened it, and read.
“No,” she said, “Juliet is supposed to die.”
“Mutation,” Karl explained. “Random mistakes change the tale.”
For a long time, Daphne was silent. At last she said, “Then nothing is certain.”
Karl nodded. “But, in this universe, I love you.”