Whilst discussing matters philosophical at the Salon, the implications of the phrase “to hatch a plan” struck me rather forcibly. OK, I admit it, it was while I was talking nonsense in a pub – but that is purely down to the shortage of Salons in the modern world.
Given that plans are hatched, this suggests that they are not mammals (unless a monotreme – the duck-billed planypus?) and so are presumably birds or reptiles. I’m not sure why plans are unable to give birth to live young, but knowing they emerge from an egg may explain many things. I like to imagine the plan parents gathering materials to form a nest into which the plan egg is laid: most nests are made of hundreds (or even thousands) of sheets of A4 paper. The parents would then take turns brooding the egg until the plan chick emerges. As anyone who has been involved in a plan will know, it can take many weeks (months or even years) being fed with money and resources before a young plan is ready to fledge and leave the nest.
Many plans are still-born and the egg never hatches. Predation of the eggs and young plans also takes a very heavy toll and many young plans fail to adapt to changing circumstances, and so many plans fail to reach fruition. When some plans fledge, they look nothing at all like their parents: the work of the plan cuckoo. This all explains why so few plans actually achieve their original objectives.
It is often said that based on our understanding of the universe that God must love stars and beetles. This rather misses my own guess as to her actual favourites: the bacteria. However, given the huge number of species of plan and the number of individual plans I think she may also have a soft-spot for the plan: if only to have a jolly good laugh at the overweening hubris of the plan parents.