In the dimly lit room, filled with the clutter of half-finished projects and tools scattered across every surface, tension hung in the air. The device on the table, once a beacon of innovative design, now lay in a state of disarray, its innards exposed like the secrets of a fallen empire.

“I just don’t see how we can fix it,” sighed Alex, the frustration evident in their voice as they leaned back, running a hand through their hair.

From across the table, Jordan, whose eyes had been scanning the blueprint with a critical eye, perked up. “Well, if you had a doo-dad, could you fix it?” they asked, a spark of hope igniting in their tone.

Alex pondered the question, the gears in their mind visibly turning. “Yes, if I had a doo-dad, I could fix it. But it would have to be precise,” they finally admitted, a note of caution in their voice. “And I’m not saying I’m not precise, nor am I claiming to be the most precise,” they quickly added, their eyes darting to the third person in the room, sitting quietly to their right.

Catching the glance in their periphery, Sam, who had been a silent observer until now, turned their attention from the shadows to their hands. Hands that had crafted and fixed the unfixable, hands that were a testament to years of meticulous work. “You’re in luck,” Sam said, their voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the underlying tension. “I have precise hands, and I can implement the doo-dad into the thing that broke.”

A moment of silence enveloped the room as the significance of Sam’s words settled in. Then, with a renewed sense of purpose, the trio rallied around the broken device. With Sam’s precise hands, Jordan’s hopeful gaze, and Alex’s newfound optimism, the impossible suddenly seemed within reach.

End Notes:

• Dialogue and beats by Mike Gray.
• Title and frame by Kristina Gray.
• Description and values filled in by AI.