Setting:
A cozy kitchen in Tromsø, Norway. The northern lights are glowing outside the window. The kettle whistles softly on the stove. Two friends, Eirik and Jonas, are seated at the table with mugs of hot chocolate.
Eirik: (glancing nervously out the window)
Did you notice how weird my phone’s been acting since I saw old Elle this morning? I swear, the battery drained like that—even after a full charge!
Jonas: (sips cocoa, grinning)
And you think that has something to do with… ganning?
Eirik:
Jonas, she looked right at me, didn’t say a word—just muttered something in Sámi and walked off. Five minutes later, my phone’s dead, I tripped on the bus steps, and then a raven landed on my car. That’s textbook ganning!
Jonas: (laughs)
Or textbook bad luck. Maybe you should charge your phone more and wear better shoes. And the raven? It’s Tromsø, not the Sahara. Birds happen.
Eirik:
You’re always like this—dismissive. You know my uncle Rolf? He swears his cow stopped giving milk after he ticked off a noaidi. He even brought in a vet and everything—nothing wrong physically. But after he left an offering of dried reindeer meat on that old stone altar, bam! Milk started flowing again.
Jonas:
Or maybe the cow had indigestion and just… recovered. Look, correlation isn’t causation. You know that. People get scared, they look for patterns. That altar stuff—it gives a sense of control, not actual power.
Eirik:
You think the whole North is just imagining things? Even the elders talk about it. My grandmother wouldn’t even say the word ganning after dark. She’d just whisper “det onde blikket” and sprinkle salt by the door.
Jonas: (smiling gently)
I get that. Traditions have their place. They’re part of the culture, and I respect that. But if you really believe someone can hex your iPhone from across the street with a stare and a mumble… that’s a big leap.
Eirik:
Don’t you feel it sometimes, though? That… heaviness, when someone’s watching you? Or when everything starts going wrong out of nowhere?
Jonas:
Sure, I’ve had bad days. Lost keys, coffee spills, missed buses. But I don’t blame ancient Arctic magic—I blame my lack of sleep and poor life choices.
Eirik: (laughing)
Okay, maybe the bad luck wasn’t all Elle’s fault. I did forget to plug in the charger last night. And I guess I shouldn’t have worn those slick-soled shoes…
Jonas:
There we go! Science wins again.
Eirik: (playfully)
Don’t get too smug, Mr. Rational. One day you’ll be walking in the woods, and you’ll feel it—that tingle. And when your phone dies, and you hear whispering in the wind, don’t come running to me asking for reindeer meat.
Jonas:
Deal. But if that ever happens, I’ll bring you a lab report, not a blood offering.
Eirik:
Fine. But just in case… could you pass the salt?
Jonas: (chuckling as he slides the salt shaker)
Only if we agree it’s for seasoning and not spirit-proofing.
Eirik: (grinning)
Let’s say… a bit of both.
[End Scene]
Science Vs Superstition 
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