[Andy Baker]

But, soft! what plight that roller mechanism breaks?
It is the fatigue, and Katawheel is the sun.
Arise, fair wheel spinner, and kill the problematic turret,
Who is already sick and pale with mechanical flaws,
That thou her design art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her ball transfer mechanism is but sick and green
And none but fools do use it; cast it off.
It is my robot, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She spins yet she tosses nothing: what of that?
Her flaw discourses; we will answer it.
We are too bold, 'tis not to me she spins:
Two of the fairest gearboxes in all of FIRST,
Having some business, do entreat her drivetrain
To mesh in their shifters till they return.
What if her vision system were there, they on her mast?
The brightness of her graphics would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a green cathode lamp; her eyes on the 3 point goal
Would during automode stream so accurately
That opponents would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she rests her base upon the platform peak!
O, that I were the polycarbonate below her secured wheels,
That I might touch those roughtop treads!



AB

(getting my storytelling ready for the division announcements)

(also... we definitely used all we could out of 6 fix-it-windows this season, with the last one ending yesterday. Thank goodness the kids were on spring break this week, or they would be working 'til 9-10 on the fixes we needed.)