— It's energy, — a physicist would say.
— It's grace, — a monk would whisper.
— It's a bug, — God would grin, adjusting the ether equation.
And then He would add, seriously: But this is how beauty is born. After all, when the system fails, impossible-colored blades of grass sprout between zero and one. An error in the matrix is a door that the Creator left unlocked... just in case.