At around seven PM, we arrive at the hotel. It's a towering skyscraper a few blocks from the stadium. Inside, elevators with glass panels transport people to their floors. We go to our rooms to unpack our things, then rush back to the trailer parked outside to fix the robot as much as possible. We're able to put the metal reinforcements back in, but the wires are another story. Only a few wires can actually work, and we didn't bring enough supplies to reprogram the machine. Even though there's not much we can do, we do everything possible. Afterwards, we reload the robot and take it to the convention center that will hold the competition. It's across the street from our hotel; a walking distance under streetlights and tall buildings. We set up our stand in the pit, then place the tool carts and our robot under it. Most teams are here already. The competition field is already hosting robots. The judges allow scheduled teams to try practice matches before the competition starts. Our team is scheduled for tomorrow morning, if the robot will work.
We park the trailer in our reserved spot by the building and walk back to the hotel. After a few minutes, everyone returns to their rooms.
Tonight, I can't sleep. After several months of planning and developing, our work had been destroyed in mere hours. I'm standing in front of the sliding glass door to the balcony of my room.
When the twilight fades to blackness it lights a fire inside my mind. It burns away the drabness of the day, the clock in and the clock out, the mechanized life, robotic and cold. The night means downtown is lit by the neon lights of the clubs and bars, shining on the rain-kissed sidewalks. At night you can be anybody and nobody cares who you really are. So I step into the darkness. The stars are somewhere behind the haze of black cloud that is stretched thinly above and the transitory moonlight bleaches the grey-scale world momentarily, and then it is gone. My mind is a blur with possibilities, each more fanciful than the next.
YOU ARE READING
Gracious Professionalism
General FictionMargaret Nelson likes machines. It's not easy being the backbone of her robotics team, especially with a summer competition coming up. But if nobody on her team ever listens to her, how many things will go wrong?
