[Scene: A quiet riverside walk in a small UK town. Two friends, Emma and Jack, are chatting while leaning on the railing, watching the water.]
Emma: You know, Jack, back in the old days if someone drowned in a river like this, they used to put bread soaked with quicksilver into the water. The bread would drift and stop right where the body was. Fascinating, isn’t it?
Jack: [nearly choking on his coffee] Quicksilver? As in mercury? Emma, that stuff’s toxic! The only thing they’d have found with that trick is a group of very sick ducks.
Emma: [laughs] I’m serious! It’s a proper tradition. People swore it worked. The bread would just float along until it pointed out where the poor soul was lying.
Jack: Or, more likely, it floated along wherever the current took it. Honestly, that’s not science, that’s soggy guesswork.
Emma: Oh, but think about it—so many stories passed down can’t all be wrong. My gran used to tell me about a case near York where villagers did it, and the bread circled a spot. Sure enough, the body was found there later.
Jack: Right, but that’s a classic example of confirmation bias. They remember the one time it seemed to “work” and forget the dozens of times it didn’t. Like how people say they “just knew” it was going to rain because their knee ached.
Emma: [smirking] My aunt’s knee is more accurate than the Met Office, I’ll have you know.
Jack: [grins] That says more about the Met Office than about your aunt’s kneecap. But seriously, Emma, mercury doesn’t magically home in on corpses. Bodies sink, decompose, release gases, and eventually float up again. It’s grim biology, not mysticism.
Emma: Alright, Mr. Rational. But don’t you think it’s comforting, in a weird way? Like, back then people had no sonar, no divers. Just the bread and their faith.
Jack: I’ll give you that. It was probably more about giving people something to do—a ritual to cope with tragedy—than actually locating anyone. A bit like lighting candles or saying prayers.
Emma: Hm. So you’re saying it was more about hope than hydrodynamics?
Jack: Exactly. Though, I suppose in some cases the bread did stop near a body, but that was coincidence. Like dropping toast and it always landing butter side down—you only notice the dramatic bits.
Emma: [playfully] Or maybe there’s a bit of magic in bread after all.
Jack: If bread had magical powers, Greggs would be a temple.
Emma: [laughs out loud] You might be onto something there. People already worship their sausage rolls.
Jack: See? Proof that rituals evolve. From quicksilver bread to steak bakes. Humanity marches on.
Emma: Fine, I’ll concede the science. But next time you’re in the river, don’t be surprised if I’m standing on the bank with a loaf, just in case.
Jack: As long as it’s not sourdough—those loaves cost more than a rescue boat.
Science Vs Superstition 
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