And on the eighth day, monkeys (who, finding themselves well-equipped, simply climbed the firmament) get into everything: the cloud inflater, the island wheel, the seraphs’ eye irrigator. The atmosphere gets pumped with nitrogen; the Big Kite becomes a Dipper. They never determine what happened in the glacier press, but it takes two millennia to clean.
“And we haven’t had a minute to watch the garden,” Gabriel fusses to his boss. “Have You considered what they might be getting into? I mean, why did You derive Your chosen stewards from these?”
“è¿™æ˜¯æ— ç¨½ä¹‹è°ˆ,” his boss replies.
“Oh,” says Gabriel. “That makes sense.”