More than one cup, because in the real world I always assume someone else may drop in, and it weakens the structure to change that sort of thing. Essentially: if they served my tea in one cup, the cavitation noise of the Rebus would get that little bit louder for the ships up above. Everything, down here, is symbols and belief. It’s like dreaming: text will change from moment to moment and switches and buttons will not function properly unless you require them to do so. Nothing tastes the way it should until you define it. The laws of physics are what you make them. In theory I could fly this submarine to safety, or displace it, the way the USS Eldridge supposedly teleported to another world in 1943. But it’s like the cups: every flaw I write in the architecture can be exploited by an intruder.