Mistress of the difference engine Ordinal Malaprop has fashioned a windmill that harnesses energy and stores it into a battery, and has provided the scripts to build same. She also offers these words of pre-emptive scorn for those who'd wonder why in the world we'd want windmills and batteries in the first place:
You look to me like some sort of clerk or other man of
business, possibly even an accountant. Where is your soul, sir? Do you
have no appreciation of the joys of simple creative activity? Begone
with you, and run through the park with no shoes on until you have
re-united yourself with the pleasures of experience rather than
commerce, or until you tread on a squirrel, at which point you may stop
so as not to cause further harm.
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