The Wabbit was out for a hop on a fine Sunday morning. He'd got as far as the hospital strip at Lingotto and was thinking about lunch - when he spotted a particularly nice reflection. He paused for a while and tried to perform a calculation concerning optics. He looked behind him. Somehow the actual scene looked much better reflected in the mirrored glass of the hospital window. He turned back but something wasn't right. "Where am
I in the window?" The Wabbit appeared to have no reflection. He waved a paw, but still there was nothing. He scrutinised the glass panels to no avail. Then he spotted something that wasn't there before. A familiar figure looked out at him and it whispered. "Wabbit!" The Wabbit shook his head. He turned his back on the window and looked once more at the other side of the street, but there was no corresponding figure. "Must be a cognitive illusion" he thought. "Something from my unconscious perhaps." He turned back. The figure appeared closer - and now he recognised the ghostly priest he'd encountered at Superga. "Find out, Wabbit," whispered the priest, "Find out, I implore you." The priest looked the Wabbit in the eyes and for an instant the Wabbit held his gaze. But the priest blinked three times and his image began to fade. "Don't go, Father!" shouted the Wabbit, "What do I have to do?" But the priest was gone. Only the bushes on the far side of the street remained ...
