'There are several ways,' Dr Breed said to me, 'in which certain liquids can crystallize - can freeze - several ways in which their atoms can stack and lock in an orderly, rigid way.'
'Now suppose,' chortled Dr Breed, enjoying himself, 'that there were many possible ways in which water could crystallize, could freeze. Suppose that the sort of ice we skate upon and put into highballs - what we might call ice-one - is only one of the several types of ice.
Suppose water always froze as ice-one on Earth because it had never had a seed to teach it how to form ice-two, ice-three, ice-four.... ? And suppose,' he rapped on his desk with his old hand again, 'that there were one form, which we will call ice-nine - a crystal as hard as this desk - with a melting point of, let us say, one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, or, better still, a melting point of one hundred and thirty degrees.'
He raised a finger and winked at me. 'But suppose... a Marine threw that seed into the nearest puddle....?'
'The puddle would freeze?' I guessed.
'And all the muck around the puddle?'
'It would freeze?'
'And all the puddles in the frozen muck?'
'They would freeze?'
'And the pools and the streams in the frozen muck?'
'They would freeze?'
'You bet they would!' he cried. 'And the United States Marines would rise from the swamp and march on!'
Cats Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
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