Setting: A sunny afternoon in Seville, Spain. Two friends, Carmen and Luis, are walking down a quiet street on their way to a café. As they pass a small church with a cemetery beside it, Carmen suddenly makes the sign of the cross.
Luis: (raising an eyebrow) Carmen, did you just do that again?
Carmen: (nodding earnestly) Of course. We just passed a church and a cemetery. You know the rule—sign of the cross to keep the bad energy away. My abuela swore by it.
Luis: Right… the abuela logic. But Carmen, you’re a software engineer, for heaven’s sake! You literally write code and debug logical errors all day, and yet you think crossing yourself is going to fend off… what? Ghosts? Evil vibes?
Carmen: (grinning) Exactly. You don’t know what lingers near cemeteries. Spirits, unfinished business, bad mojo. I’d rather not take the risk. It’s like wearing a seatbelt, but for your soul.
Luis: (laughs) That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You act like the spirits are waiting to jump into your body like it’s an open Wi-Fi network.
Carmen: And you act like you’ve got antivirus for the spiritual world. Look, it’s not like I think something will happen… but what if something could? It’s just a little gesture. Costs nothing. Like knocking on wood. Or not walking under ladders.
Luis: But those are exactly the kind of irrational habits that keep people from thinking critically. It’s like mental clutter. I read this study from the University of Granada—people who believed in superstitions were more anxious overall. It’s not protecting you, Carmen. It’s stressing you out.
Carmen: I am not stressed. I’m spiritually cautious. There’s a difference.
Luis: Let me ask you this: remember last year when we went hiking and passed five churches and two graveyards on the Camino?
Carmen: How could I forget? My biceps were sore from crossing myself so much.
Luis: And yet, nothing bad happened to me. I didn’t cross myself once. If anything, I got a tan and some great photos of sheep.
Carmen: That’s because I was doing the work for both of us. You’re welcome.
Luis: (chuckling) Oh, come on. You’re giving your cross-signing more credit than sunscreen.
Carmen: Luis, I know it sounds silly to you. But when I was a kid, we passed a cemetery near Salamanca, and my cousin didn’t do the sign of the cross—and that very night, she got a fever and started sleep-talking in Latin.
Luis: That’s called coincidence, not a ghost possession. Or maybe she watched too much The Exorcist.
Carmen: Coincidence to you, proof to me.
Luis: Carmen, what if instead of crossing yourself out of fear, you just paused to reflect or appreciate the history of the place? These sites are full of culture, not curses.
Carmen: Hmm. I like that idea. Maybe I can cross myself and reflect. Double protection.
Luis: (groans, then laughs) That’s not what I meant! But look, I’ll make a deal. I won’t make fun of your sign-of-the-cross routine if you promise to read a book I give you—“The Belief Instinct”. It’s all about how our brains evolved to see intention in everything. Even tombstones.
Carmen: Deal. But I warn you, if I read that and start floating above my bed because I stopped crossing myself, I’m haunting you first.
Luis: (laughs) Fair. And if that ever happens, I’ll cross myself, just to be safe.
Carmen: See? I’m already rubbing off on you.
[They reach the café, both smiling, the conversation lingering playfully in the air like the scent of fresh coffee and superstition.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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