The faint glow of the computer screen casts an uneasy light on my face as I fumble beneath the keyboard to retrieve the dust-covered instruction manual for my failed attempt at building a robot last Christmas. I swear I followed the diagrams, but the mechanical bird now lies inert amidst cardboard shreds and the discarded remains of a half-defrosted pizza. Amidst the chaos of wires and shattered dreams, one phrase, scribbled on a Post-It in a moment of hasty inspiration, leaps out: 'The world doesn't just need another robot – it needs my robot. Period.' As I rip it off the desk, a fragment of tape lingers on the underside of my shirt.
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