"Okay, I get using remote-controlled cybernetic mice as infiltration drones, but why did you put little gas masks on them?" asks Vij, your co-worker in the CIA research and development division.
Your lip curls up in disgust with the violent speed of a retracting window shade.
"Why wouldn't I give the mice cute little gas masks?" you ask, odium thick upon your tongue.
Vij recoils in defensive surprise. "Um," he responds timidly, "because...they're mice?"
You throw your fists into your hips and jut your head forward toward in a scornful, exaggerated posture. "I'm very disappointed in you, Vij. These mice are going to be going into some of the most secure facilities on the planet on clandestine operations in order to retrieve information vital to America's supremacy in the information war, and therefore indispensable to her security. You expect them to go into these places naked, with no gear save for a tiny shoulder-mounted camera?"
"Well, that's dumb, Vij. Real dumb."
"Whatever," says Vij dismissively. "So how long the do the little mouse gas filters last?"
"The gas mask filters."
You simply stare blankly at Vij.
"The masks are functional, right?" he asks nervously."
"Of course not, Vij. They're mice. But they're going to be the most tacticool mice around."