There was a moment — a brief, naive, catastrophically optimistic moment — where I thought putting on a classic animated film was a good idea.
Educational, even. Wholesome. A little culture. A little quiet.
I was so confident in this decision.
Here is what I did not know at the time.
There was already a blueprint.
A formal, annotated, front-and-side-view blueprint. With measurements. With component labels. Flexi-spring leg assembly (x2). Shock absorption. Reinforced seat ring. Control layout diagram. A mug of Chaos Fuel. A post-it that said More Chaos in case the direction of the project was somehow unclear. And a notepad — a separate notepad, for overflow ideas — with a small sketch and the question: Add rockets?
He was mid-revision when I put the film on.
I thought he was just sitting there.
He was peer reviewing.
The Wrong Trousers is a masterpiece. A beloved classic. A story about loyalty, betrayal, and a very bad penguin with access to advanced robotics. It is also, I now understand, a forty-minute proof-of-concept video for a project that was already in its third draft.
He already had the reference schematics. Had them for a while, by the look of things. Filed. Catalogued. Cross-referenced against his own drawings.
He didn't need the film for inspiration.
He needed it for confirmation
And I — with my oblivious good intentions and my lovely wholesome film night — sat him down in front of fully operational robotic trouser footage, pointed at the screen, and said in effect: yes. it works. here is the button sequence. you were right all along.
I was the peer review. I signed off on this.
Testing was completed shortly after. Field results were, by his assessment, excellent.
And then I found the lab.
I don't know how long it's been there. I don't know how I didn't notice. What I know is that there is a door in this house, and on the other side of that door is a fully equipped industrial workshop with its own signage. No Humans Beyond This Point (They Smell). And on the opposite wall, in clear lettering, the company name I apparently share a postal address with:
Gremlin Technologies Inc. — Keeping Chaos Controlled Since 1984.
He has been incorporated since before I was aware he existed.
The film night wasn't an introduction to animated cinema.
It was the final piece of his puzzle.
What.... exactly.... have I done?!
