Science seems to be afraid of storytelling, perhaps because it
associates narrative with long, untestable yarns. Stories are
perceived as "just" literature. Worse, stories are not
reducible to mathematics, so they are unlikely to impress our
peers.
This fear is misplaced for two reasons. First, in
paradigmatic science, hypotheses have to be crafted. What
are alternative hypotheses but competing narratives? Invent
them as fancifully as you can. Sure, they ought to avoid
explicit violations of reality (such as light acting like a
particle when everyone knows it's a wave?), but censor those
stories lightly. There is time for experiment—by you
or others—to discover which story holds up better.
The second reason not to fear a story is that human beings do
science. A person must decide what molecule is made, what
instrument built to measure what property. Yes, there are
facts to begin with, facts to build on. But facts are mute.
They generate neither the desire to understand, nor appeals
for the patronage that science requires, nor the judgment to
do A instead of B, nor the will to overcome a seemingly
insuperable failure. Actions, small or large, are taken at a
certain time by human beings—who are living out a
story.