A state-of-the-art spaceship is a simple affair because it’s so easy now to create anything one needs.
A thimble for some old-old-old-fashioned darning? Think it, you have it. Of course, it’s much easier to think up a being that can do the darning for you. Like some of them cute furry huggomuffins. They do the work like speed demons while twittering away agitatedly. Always create them in pairs at least; like horses, they should not be alone.
Actually, why wear socks at all? Think your feet warm. They will be warm.
Think yourself fed. Your stomach will be comfortably full, with food that is perfectly balanced and won’t give you indigestion. Actually, you don’t even need digestion.
But what about the fun? The fun of imagining and wearing socks, even the odd pair?
The fun of eating a variety of things. Radishes. Orange carrots, red carrots. Mustard on a turkey sandwich. Fettucine Alfredo, even though I have it from Carla, a descendent of genuine Italians from the city of Perugia in long-gone Umbria on our extinct ancestral planet Earth, that this never was an Italian invention.
You can think yourself loved. But isn’t it much better to be loved?
How I wish this descendent of genuine Italians were in this spaceship with me now. In corpore, not just in thought.
But these are the limits of wishing and creating. Even now.
– James Steerforth (copyright 2007)
Inspired somehow, in an untraceable way, by Lillian Black’s Pug-Monkey fiction.