The Gap
It started with a tiny crack that crossed the main street of the village, barely perceptible to the naked eye.
As it slowly grew wider over time, the inhabitants of the village adapted, taking a large, careful step over the fissure, by then nicknamed the Gap. The people considered it not much more than a nuisance, primarily for cyclists (who’d have to get off their bike and carry it over the Gap) and cars (who’d have to go the long — very long — way around).
The Gap continued to grow wider. By the time it had reached its final width of half an arm’s length, only the daring would still Cross. With its enormous length and seemingly infinite depth, it split the village in half. On occasion, some attempted to construct small makeshift bridges, but those disappeared as quickly as their appeared among concerns from villagers that it created the false impression that the Gap was safe to Cross.
The lakeside Half of the village gained its own bakery, and the forestside Half gained its own pharmacy. Crossing was not an option for most, but new amenities were popping up, and soon there no longer was a need to Cross.
But some people still Crossed the Gap. The croissants are more buttery in the bakery Across, some said. The postal service is quicker in the other office, others argued. The fish isn’t as fresh over here. The sourdough bread is tastier in the other Half.
Finding it to be a lucrative business, more and more Crossers would do supply runs Across the Gap, buying large amounts of goods in one Half, and reselling it in the other.
The inhabitants of the village were not thrilled by this situation. Some said that Crossers occasionally bought out such large numbers of goods that it impacted the availability of goods in their Half. Some shopkeepers, in response, jacked up their prices to Crossers. Others limited the amount one could purchase in one go. And others still would refuse service to Crossers at all.
Over time, one unspoken rule became clear: We Do Not Cross The Gap. As Crossing became more profitable, it also became more difficult. Crossers started to be on the receiving end of physical aggression, and they would adapt their strategies in response, changing their Crossing location and working with intermediaries.
The resentment towards Crossing grew so much that both halves of the village outright banned it. This did not stop anyone from Crossing, but it caused the price of the goods to shoot up, and so did the commission charged by Crossers.
The resentment was not just aimed at Crossers. Each Half of the village despised the other Half for being lax; for allowing people to Cross.
The tension kept growing until the nightly quiet was interrupted by firecrackers and fire bombs lobbed Across the Gap by people from both Halves. Still licking their wounds the day after, the people of each Half began the construction of a fence on their side of the Gap, starting at the main road and extending to both sides, far into the land beyond the village. Both Halves constructed guard posts and manned them with armed guards on rotation. The guarded fence, many meters tall and stretching further and further, eliminated any chance of Crossing.
Both Halves came to an uneasy peace. Goods were no longer passing between the Halves, and the infrequent amount of chatter between people on the two Halves decreased to zero. We Do Not Cross The Gap, but also: We Do Not Talk To The Other Half.
The uneasy peace lasted for years. Aggression would flare up on occasion, but it would dissipate as quickly as it came. There was no place for the aggression to go; the oppressive fence would prevent anything but verbal insults from being exchanged.
Nobody in either Half of the village had noticed that the Gap had closed by now, physically unifying the two Halves of the village, with just a seam barely perceptible to the naked eye.