There once was a maiden. The machine coordinated her movements, and told her where to work. The machine was her purpose. It was not to be questioned. She walked the road, her purpose cold, her intent pure.
This was one of the rare times she would walk the main roads. They were crowded with too many people, even at night. People were a risk, according to what she was told. Tonight, however, was a strange night. The maiden couldn't explain it. The moon was full, the stars shone brighter than ever, and off in the distance she was certain she could hear something.
As she went toward the sound, her movements became slightly faster. She could feel it, something that she was completely unfamiliar with, something that was touching her in a way that she had never known. It was maddening, intoxicating, she had to understand it.
She found the source: there was a group of people in colorful costumes by the side of the road. In their hands were strange devices which odd sounds came out of, in a pattern that seemed pleasing to the ears, and made the listener likely to do something illogical. Based on her observations, examples might include jumping about and saying strange rhyming phrases that went along with the sounds in a pleasing manner. In the shadows of the treeline, a short distance from the performers, the Maiden found herself tapping her foot along with the curious sound.
She could stand it no longer. She found herself walking among their company. They were surprised by her sudden arrival, but it did not pause them for long.
The Maiden asked one of the men near the performance, "What is it that they're doing with those devices?"
The young man responded, "What, did you grow up in a tube? It's music!"
Yes. She needed to learn more about "Music."