The parts taunted Ginger in Mr. Johnson’s voice as she stared at the pile. Somewhere in there was the robot she envisioned, but it was up to her to tease out that idea.
She started picking up motors and wires, controllers and microprocessors. One part after another got attached to the superstructure. Coding commenced, and the motors sprang to life.
After a few hard weeks she was done. What sat in front of her wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. It was better because it was her creation. Stick that in your face Mr. Johnson! Girls can do engineering!
Johan stared at the grand piano in front of him. Eighty-eight keys stared back at him, wanting him to touch them. White and black, each key was holding a tiny piece of music inside. It was up to him to set that music free, to let the world experience it, but still Johan didn’t reach out.
Johan knew to do so would bind his soul, to the music yearning to be free.
Johan knew to do so would shatter his soul, to give the music its shape.
Johan knew to do so would expose his soul, clothed only in the notes he played, to the voyeurs in the audience.
Johan almost left the stage, but then, ever so softly, he did reach out and caress the keys. That act of intimacy coaxed his desire, which inflamed his passion, exploding into a rapture of creation. Nothing was ever the same again.