The Cog That Wouldn’t Let Go

You know, I've always had a healthy respect for machinery.

Engines, gears, propellers, all those wonderful little contraptions that make modern civilization possible.

But I've also learned something rather important about machines.

They don't give a damn about your plans.

And that, my friends, brings us to a delightful little disaster involving a game of Robo Rally, two unfortunate competitors, and a pair of spinning cogs that apparently had ambitions of their own.

Our first unfortunate soul went by the name of Fried Rice.

Now, Fried Rice had a robot, a route to follow, and what I can only assume was a perfectly reasonable plan for reaching the checkpoints.

Everything was going rather well. Until the cog.

Ah, yes. The cog.

For those unfamiliar with Robo Rally, imagine attempting to navigate a robot through a factory filled with conveyor belts, lasers, mechanical hazards, and other thoroughly unpleasant surprises.

And here's the particularly entertaining bit: you program your robot's movements in advance.

Which means that when something goes wrong, you may have the considerable pleasure of watching your own carefully planned instructions make matters worse.

Marvelous game, really.

Anyway, Fried Rice maneuvered onto one of these enormous rotating cogs.

Nothing particularly foolish about that. The cog was simply another obstacle to navigate.

Except the blasted thing turned.

And suddenly, the robot wasn't pointing where its operator expected.

Now, if you've ever tried correcting the course of an aircraft in a crosswind, you'll appreciate how quickly a small directional problem can become a rather large one.

Fried Rice adjusted the programming.

The cog turned again.

Another correction.

Another rotation.

And before long, our poor competitor was engaged in what I can only describe as a prolonged argument with a piece of industrial equipment.

And losing.

Oh, but it gets better.

Because along comes Scott.

Now, Scott had apparently observed this little mechanical tragedy and decided that one robot spinning helplessly in circles simply wasn't sufficient entertainment.

So he managed to get himself caught on another cog.

A separate cog, mind you.

Two competitors. Two robots. Two entirely independent mechanical disasters.

I would have loved to have been sitting at that table.

Can you imagine the conversation?

One player announces that they're finally going to escape.

The other declares they've worked out exactly where they've gone wrong.

And then both machines rotate merrily away from their intended destinations.

I suspect there was a good deal of laughter.

Possibly some language unsuitable for polite company.

And almost certainly someone offering advice that nobody had asked for.

But here's where our story takes a particularly cruel turn.

Scott escaped.

Yes! Somehow, after several turns of mechanical humiliation, Scott managed to free his robot from its revolving prison.

Good for Scott.

And Fried Rice?

Still spinning.

Oh, the poor devil.

There's something especially frustrating about watching someone else escape the exact predicament you're still trapped in.

It's like watching your fellow pilot get his engine started while you're standing beside yours with a wrench, a headache, and several increasingly creative things to say about the manufacturer.

Meanwhile, the rest of the competitors were actually getting somewhere.

Checkpoints were being reached.

Progress was being made.

And eventually, someone who had wisely avoided becoming part of the factory's rotating machinery won the race.

Neither Fried Rice nor Scott claimed victory.

But I think we can agree that one of them had a considerably worse afternoon.

Now, you might imagine Fried Rice would have accepted responsibility for this unfortunate sequence of events.

After all, it was their robot. Their programming. Their predicament.

But apparently not.

Because when asked who was responsible for the whole business, the official verdict was rather emphatic.

Scott. As always.

Ha!

Oh, that's magnificent.

I don't know what poor Scott had done to earn such a reputation, but I rather suspect this wasn't the first time he'd been blamed for something going spectacularly wrong.

And frankly, the fact that Scott was also trapped on a cog makes the accusation even better.

He wasn't even available to cause trouble!

He was busy having trouble of his own!

Now, I must confess, I have a certain affection for this story.

Not because anyone won. Not because some brilliant strategy carried the day.

Quite the opposite.

Two people sat down to race robots through a factory, and for several turns, neither could persuade their machine to go anywhere useful.

One eventually escaped.

The other didn't.

And somehow, it was all Scott's fault.

That's the sort of gaming memory that deserves to survive long after everyone has forgotten who actually won.

So here's to Fried Rice, whose robot demonstrated remarkable determination to remain exactly where it wasn't wanted.

And here's to Scott, who managed to escape his own mechanical predicament only to discover he'd been assigned responsibility for someone else's.

As for me?

Well, I've spent enough time working on aircraft engines to know that when a machine develops a mind of its own, there are only two sensible things to do.

Find out what's wrong with it.

Or find someone else to blame.

Apparently, Fried Rice had already mastered the second.

Now then, who's got another story?

And Scott, if you're listening, I wouldn't wander too far.

I've a feeling we may need you to take the blame for the next one as well.