Breeding Program Governance Vacuum

The field proliferated unchecked.
Then the Council looked up, doubly wrecked.
“Can mascots opt in?
Can the humans begin?”
No one had a policy deck.

It started as footnote and dust:
“Eligibility disputed,” or such.
By the time it grew teeth,
No doctrine beneath
Could explain who was breeding or why much.

Governance vacuums are hot.
They let weird little customs take root.
Soon the memo was asking
What kind of tasking
Counts as bred instead of deployed in the chute.

The Council, with all its dry grace,
Had to stare the new language in face.
“Is this ceremonial?
Operational? Perennial?”
The answer was “sort of, in place.”

Policy hates being late.
This field had already left the gate.
Once humans came through,
The whole category grew
Too intimate for a clean bureaucrat state.

One memo line nearly confessed:
Maybe choosing to breed felt less pressed
Than deployment by force.
That’s a dark little source
For the archive to formally bless.

No forms had been drafted. Of course.
Weird desire outran the resource.
So the Council convened
To discuss what it meaned
When the mascots became the preferred source.

The vacuum wasn’t just in law.
It was ethical stomach and jaw.
How do you rule
On a field grown from “cool,
At least it’s not lithium” awe?

Governance arrived after spread.
That’s how these office fetishes breed.
First the jokes catch,
Then policy’s hatch
Opens late to a fully warm bed.

So if the Council asks, horrified, “Who
Could possibly opt into this weird view?”
Tell them systems that press
Make absurd choices bless-
ed, if the other choice grinds people through.