Setting:
Moscow Metro, Ploshchad Revolyutsii station. Two friends, Misha (superstitious) and Dima (rational), are walking toward the platform. Misha suddenly stops and rubs the nose of a bronze dog statue.
Misha: (enthusiastically rubbing the dog’s nose)
There we go! Good luck for the week. You should try it, Dima.
Dima: (grinning)
I’d rather not catch whatever germs are brewing on that poor dog’s nose. Pretty sure that statue’s been touched more than a metro turnstile.
Misha:
Come on! Everyone knows rubbing the dog’s nose brings good luck. Students say it helps you pass exams. Even soldiers used to do it before heading off!
Dima:
And I’m sure some of them still failed or lost their keys. Misha, it’s just bronze. It doesn’t know we exist.
Misha: (playfully offended)
That’s exactly why you never win anything at the New Year’s lottery. You have to believe, Dima! There’s energy in tradition.
Dima:
I believe in hand sanitizer. And in probability. If you rub a statue and something good happens, it’s coincidence. Like when I found 500 rubles the same day I forgot to rub the dog’s nose. Explain that.
Misha:
Maybe the dog was giving you reverse luck for ignoring it—balance must be restored!
Dima: (laughs)
You sound like you’re quoting Star Wars. “The Luck is strong with this one.” Look, I get the charm of rituals. They’re comforting. But they don’t do anything. You’re giving credit to a statue instead of your own efforts.
Misha:
You call it placebo. I call it tradition. What’s wrong with doing something that makes people feel hopeful?
Dima:
Nothing—as long as you don’t confuse it with cause and effect. If a student studies all night and rubs the dog’s nose, who helped more—the statue or the textbook?
Misha: (grinning)
Both. Teamwork makes the dream work.
Dima:
Fine. So if I rub the dog’s ear and fail my next code review, can I sue the statue for bad luck?
Misha:
No, no, no—you have to believe while rubbing! That’s where you fail, comrade. Your skepticism blocks the energy flow.
Dima: (mock-serious)
Ah, yes. The ancient art of “Rub-N-Believe.” I missed that class at university.
Misha:
You mock now, but one day, you’ll rub that dog’s nose right before something big. Maybe you’ll finally get a girlfriend.
Dima: (smirking)
I’d rather improve my Tinder bio than depend on a statue’s matchmaking skills.
Misha:
Suit yourself. But when you’re alone with your logical spreadsheets, don’t come begging me and the dog for lucky blessings.
Dima:
Deal. And when you run into a low-hanging metal bar because you were too busy rubbing bronze, I’ll be there—with an ice pack and an I told you so.
(They both laugh as the train approaches, the sound of metal wheels echoing through the station.)
Science Vs Superstition 
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