Setting: Two friends, Masha (the superstitious one) and Ilya (the rational one), are walking together through the streets of Saint Petersburg on a chilly afternoon. They’re on their way to a café when they encounter a painter’s ladder propped up against a building.
Masha: [stops suddenly] Ilya! Wait! Don’t walk under that ladder!
Ilya: [looks up] Huh? Why not?
Masha: It’s bad luck! Everyone knows that. Walk around it.
Ilya: Oh, come on, Masha. That’s just one of those old superstitions. There’s no actual proof that walking under a ladder causes anything bad to happen.
Masha: Maybe not proof, but I’m telling you, every time I ignored that rule, something weird happened. Once, I walked under a ladder, and the very next day I dropped my phone in the toilet. Coincidence? I think not.
Ilya: [laughs] Masha, correlation is not causation. By that logic, I should blame the neighbor’s cat for my failed chemistry exam because it looked at me funny that morning.
Masha: But ladders are different. They’ve always been a symbol of bad luck. I mean, even in the West it’s considered unlucky! Are you telling me all those people are wrong?
Ilya: Yes. Collectively and charmingly wrong. It probably started with the idea that a ladder against a wall forms a triangle, which was sacred in ancient times. Walking through it was seen as breaking divine balance. But nowadays, it’s just a safety hazard—not a cosmic curse.
Masha: [crossing her arms] Still. Why take the risk? What’s the harm in just walking around it?
Ilya: Because fear should come from real dangers, not imagined ones. Like slipping on the icy steps we’re about to take, not invisible karma from aluminum ladders.
Masha: Easy for you to say. You’re all science and logic. But sometimes, weird stuff happens. Like when I spilled salt at dinner last week and forgot to throw some over my left shoulder—and then I got food poisoning the next day.
Ilya: Or… maybe you ate three-day-old olivier salad from the back of your fridge?
Masha: That’s beside the point.
Ilya: Look, I get it. Superstitions give us a sense of control over chaos. But I prefer to face chaos head-on. If I have bad luck, I’d rather it be because I was careless—not because of some cosmic punishment for walking under a ladder.
Masha: Hmm. So if I told you that stepping on cracks could bring misfortune, you’d still stomp on every one?
Ilya: Gladly. And I’d do it in rhythm just to mess with the sidewalk spirits.
Masha: You’re ridiculous.
Ilya: And you’re adorable in your irrational paranoia.
Masha: Fine, Mr. Skeptic. Walk under the ladder, then.
Ilya: [grinning, walks confidently under the ladder] There! Still alive. No piano fell on me. No lightning. Oh wait—pretends to stumble dramatically—just kidding.
Masha: Ugh, you’ll regret this when your microwave explodes tonight.
Ilya: Then I’ll know whom to blame: you, for jinxing me.
Masha: Deal. If it explodes, I’m telling everyone I told you so.
Ilya: And if nothing happens, you owe me a superstition-free week.
Masha: [laughing] Fine. But I’m still not sitting at a table with 13 people. That’s where I draw the line.
Ilya: Baby steps, Masha. Baby steps.
[They continue walking toward the café, one convinced she saved a soul from disaster, the other amused by the mental gymnastics of magical thinking—but both smiling.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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