[Scene: A café terrace in Lyon, spring afternoon. Élodie and Mathieu are sipping coffee, looking across the street at a newly constructed apartment building. On the roof, fir tree branches are sticking out conspicuously.]
Élodie: (pointing excitedly) Ah, look, Mathieu! They’ve put fir branches on the roof. That’s such a good sign. This building will be protected — no bad luck, no accidents.
Mathieu: (raising an eyebrow) Fir branches… You mean the ones sticking out like Christmas leftovers? Élodie, you know that’s just an old construction tradition. It doesn’t actually protect the building.
Élodie: Oh, come on, don’t be such a spoilsport! My grandmother always said that without the branches, the spirits of the land would get angry and bring storms or cracks in the walls. It’s been done for centuries. There has to be something to it.
Mathieu: Right… and people also believed bathing once a year was enough for good health, remember? History’s not always the best guide for science.
Élodie: But it’s not just history — it’s symbolic! The fir branches honor nature, they show gratitude. When I was a kid, they put branches on the bakery when it was finished, and within a month, business was booming. Coincidence? I think not.
Mathieu: Or maybe they just made excellent croissants?
Élodie: (laughing) Okay, fair. But still — you can’t deny that sometimes, traditions carry wisdom we can’t explain yet.
Mathieu: That’s true. Traditions have social value — they bring people together, give a sense of continuity. But that doesn’t mean the fir branches are deflecting lightning bolts or warding off plumbing disasters.
Élodie: You’re always so literal, Mathieu. You think everything must be measured and proven. Don’t you ever feel there’s more between heaven and earth than science can grasp?
Mathieu: Sure, I’m open to mystery. But if fir branches really protected buildings, insurance companies would be handing them out like candy. “Congratulations on your new home — here’s your policy and a complimentary fir branch!”
Élodie: (laughing and almost spilling her coffee) Oh, I’d love that! “Madame Élodie, here’s your premium discount if you promise to hang a sprig of pine over the door.”
Mathieu: Exactly. But seriously, wouldn’t you rather trust solid engineering — foundations, reinforcements, drainage — over a bunch of twigs?
Élodie: Well, sure, I want the building to be safe. But why not both? The engineers handle the concrete; the fir branches handle the vibe!
Mathieu: The vibe, huh? I guess there’s no harm if it makes people feel good. But just promise me you won’t skip earthquake insurance because you planted a magic geranium on the balcony.
Élodie: (grinning) No promises. Besides, you’re the one always quoting studies. Didn’t some research show that believing in good luck can boost your confidence?
Mathieu: Touché. Positive psychology does say that optimism can help people cope better. But still — maybe we need a study on the “protective power of pine needles.”
Élodie: (playfully swatting his arm) You should do it! I can already see the title: “Fir-tifying French Architecture: A Randomized Trial.”
Mathieu: Fir-tifying… that’s actually pretty good. Maybe you should be the scientist here.
Élodie: Only if I get to wear a lab coat covered in four-leaf clovers.
Mathieu: Deal. And I’ll bring the measuring tape — to measure how long it takes for you to admit that the fir branches are just a lovely old custom.
Élodie: Never! But… I suppose I can admit that a good engineer is worth at least three fir trees.
Mathieu: Progress! See? Science and tradition can coexist after all.
Élodie: You know, maybe you’re my lucky charm, Mathieu.
Mathieu: Careful — that almost sounds like a superstition.
Élodie: (smirking) Well, nobody’s perfect.
[They clink their coffee cups, laughing, as a breeze stirs the fir branches across the street.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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