Discord raised an eyebrow. “The thing about systems—all of them, not just machines—is they get set into patterns. Organics in particular are so used to seeing the world they think they know that they can’t imagine anything else. That’s… rather why I’m here. I’m the moldy bread that helps you discover penicillin… or radium. I’m the crackling of Hawking radiation around the event horizon, the cold grip of virtual particles streaming from the void. But Celestia… she’s more set in her way of thinking than any other pony I’ve ever known. Well… except maybe Harmony.”