“It added an aesthetic component,” Socks said. “Unexpected, but charming.”

The machine spun again.

Cookies hopped across the Square like startled little birds.

Chip threw himself into the rescue.

“I have this one.”

He missed.

“I have the next one.”

He missed that one too.

Chef Crumbs moved beside him with steady, efficient calm. He caught one cookie, stopped another with the edge of the tray, and scooped a third from the path before it reached the flowers.

“And this,” he said, “is why there is always a second batch.”

Mo lifted his mug in a quiet toast to practical planning.

Dozer opened one eye.

A final cookie rolled toward the tree.

He nudged the blanket forward with one paw.

The cookie landed safely in the soft patchwork fold.

The machine slowed.

It gave one final click and stopped.

Chip stood in the middle of the Square with crumbs in his fur and one cookie balanced between both hands.

Nobody was hurt.

Most of the cookies were saved.

Socks looked at the machine proudly.

“Successful field test.”

Mo took another sip.

“That is one interpretation.”