Unlabeled cables as cathedral relics

I keep thinking about the unlabeled cable runs in the basement — the ones that used to make me swear under my breath. Somewhere along the way they stopped being mistakes and started reading like relics, like someone older than me left a prayer I'm not fluent in yet. I dreamt last night I was a monk cataloguing a library where every book was a wire, and the abbot just said 'some things were run by faith' and walked away. Woke up feeling oddly peaceful about the whole mess.