People are always going around saying “If I know one thing, it’s this…,” or “If I know one thing, it’s that…” but the truth is none of them know anything, not really.

But don’t get all cocky, because you don’t know anything either. You don’t even know what knowing something means. You see, in order to know something you have to really know it. You might think, “But I know my name. I know where I live.” But, like, do you? Do you really? Do you know where your name came from? Do you know the first person to utter it back in caveman times? Do you know how all the letters were formed and what ink was first used to write it down? You might know where your house is in your neighborhood, but do you know where it is in relation to all the other planets and stars? Do you know the fastest way to get there from the bottom of the ocean? No? Well, then guess what? You don’t really know where it is, do you?

That’s okay. Don’t feel bad. The truth is nobody really knows anything. Except for this one girl. She knew one thing. Which, as it turns out, wasn’t all that great for her.

This girl knew where a lizard was. She saw it one day while she was walking with her friends in the forest. It was green and orange and sitting on a rock. She looked at it and suddenly she knew exactly where it was. She knew the name of the rock it was sitting on. (All rocks have secret names, and if you can ever actually get one to talk, they won’t shut up about it.) She knew the roots of the trees that were near it and how deep they went into the earth. She knew where every molecule of the lizard was in relationship to every other molecule, not only in the lizard but in the rock and forest and in the universe. She could give you directions from your house straight to the lizard, even if you lived in Oregon or in a cave on some tiny island a thousand miles away. Which of course meant she had to know where all those things were too. Which of course meant she had to know everything. See that’s the trick. If you want to know one thing, you have to know everything. But this girl did. She just looked at the lizard, and she knew where it was and her consciousness expanded and expanded until she knew everything. It’s one of those rare, amazing, one-in-a-billion coincidences that happen in the universe all the time.

Anyway, her friends didn’t know any of this. All they saw was she wouldn’t stop staring at this lizard. I mean at first they stared at it too because, you know, lizard, but then they went to move on with their hike and she didn’t move a muscle. “Sarah… Sarah!” they said and then yelled. Eventually, after hours and hours, they gave up and carried her home. They sat her down in a chair and tried to talk to her, but Sarah didn’t move. “We should call a doctor,” suggested one of her friends. “No,” said another, “This is clearly some magic shit, we better call a wizard.”

And that’s just what they did. They called this guy Kermelkergard who happened to be on duty at the Emergency Magical Happenstance Bureau that day. Every wizard has to take a turn running that place once a month. Usually, they get called out on stuff like some kid accidentally saying some magic words and turning their sister into a worm or something, and the wizard will show up and laugh at them. (There aren’t a lot of rules in the bureau, and really wizards just set it up it entertain themselves).

Anyway, right away when Kermelkergard showed up, he could see that some real shit was going down. He looked right at Sarah and said, “Holy crap, you know something, don’t you?”

“Did she see something today?” he asked the kids.

“Yeah,” said this one kid Irwin, “She saw this lizard. Do you want me to take you to it? I know where it is.”

“No, you don’t,” sighed Kermelkergard, “but show me anyway.”

Irwin didn’t understand, but he took Kermelkergard to where the lizard (who had no idea how much trouble it had caused) was still sitting on the same rock sunning itself.

“Oh no,” said Kemelkergard, “She must know where this lizard is.”

Irwin was extra confused by that, but this time he didn’t say anything. He’d been around wizards before, and he knew that they usually made you feel like an idiot any time you opened your mouth.

“I’m gonna try something,” said Kemelkergard, and he activated a spell that sent the lizard to the 50th dimension. That didn’t make any difference though. Sarah still knew right where the lizard was and she knew about the 50th dimension too.

“Let’s just have a look under the hood,” he said and pressed the secret switch all humans have on their heads that pops the top of their skull off and lets you see their thoughts.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed because even for a wizard it was a bit much.

“Whoa,” exclaimed all the kids because they just saw the top of their friend’s head flip back like a pencil box.

But Kemelkergard didn’t have time for their whoas. Unlike Sarah, he couldn’t see everything, but he could see right into the 50th dimension. In fact, he realized if he concentrated, he could see the entire dimension at once or the tiniest part of it if he preferred. It was kind of like knowing a very small percentage of something, which, as you probably understand by now, was a lot. He tried banishing the lizard to a bunch of other dimensions and every time it worked the same. He could see all over or just one small part just by thinking about it. It was like having a crystal ball, only those things only show you a blurry picture of one room at a time.

“Hmmmm, I should probably take her back to my lab,” said Kemelkergard, snapping the top of Sarah’s head shut. The kids went to protest, but before they could say much the wizard had flown off on a magic log he summoned.

After that, Kermelkergard could learn anything he wanted to know just by sending the lizard somewhere and looking into Sarah’s head. He ended up becoming one of the most powerful wizards of all time and accumulated vast amounts of wealth and the coolest magical items from all over the universe. So things worked out pretty well for him.

THE END