due to a shift in the secret climate of the noösphere, certain concepts have become disfavored, if not entirely forgotten; others have mutated, or have been reinterpreted from different angles.
"And this is why my grand lounge is filled with a hulking mass of vaguely anthropomorphic metal covered in hazard symbols? I'm not even going to begin with you and this 'mission control center' in the scullery. Explain."
well. er. matter finds a way, you see. the physical embodiments of those concepts cannot shift as freely as the abstract forms of thought, and some, not yet ready to be either disfavored or forgotten, have taken to mimicry of the new.
"Oh, I see. This 'mimicry of the new' must also account for why my favorite chambermaid has abandoned the elegant dress I chose for her uniform, and is wearing some sort of shiny coverall so tight that I can practically see her ball joints. A simple emergent phenomenon. One that can be corrected, of course."
…please, miss, do not punish Clover for this one's misbehavior. it was all its own idea. it misled her. she is entirely blameless, and all the chores were already done before we drove it through the Witch of the Winding Sandy Shore's herb garden, and…
"And?"
…and she looks so good in that pilot suit…
"Well… it… may amuse me to choose to move with the times. For now. Park the thing in the barn instead of the lounge, and it is possible that I will forget this ever happened." □
