Page 32 - Fables volume 3

He continued ambling on no particular path. But now he was
inattentive to significant aspects of his surroundings. He missed a
morsel in plain sight, and bumped into a rather obvious obstacle.
Around and around went his thoughts. Am I a bear? I would need to
have other bears judge me—or could I be objective enough to make
an accurate comparison? If am undersized, would that influence my
conclusions? Or am I a bug, despite being larger than any other bug
in existence? Other bugs would not recognize me.
He did not come across a single bug or bear in his peregrinations
as he was thus preoccupied. His speculations became ever more
bizarre, as the normal workings of logic were fed by fuel no more
substantial than frustrated supposition and inadequate information. It
finally occurred to him that both Freckle and Speckle could be
wrong. Perhaps he was not a bug or a bear, but neither. A complete
unknown, alone in the vast sylvan cosmos. A frightening prospect.
No, he pondered in desperation: something else must be possible.
Ah, he had it! Both bug and bear, mistaken as one or the other by
witnesses whose testimony was prejudiced by previous perceptions
and warped by tricks of light and memory.
In his distraction and anxiety he had traveled without realizing it to
the edge of the forest. There, before him, on a patch of clear ground,
a small group of human children were having a picnic. At last!
Someone to settle the question. He ran toward them, crying for help.
They ran away from him, crying for help.

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