Despite rebuffing several assaults, Jarvis knows his people need more than just resilience, they need better tools to survive. And whenever he requires such an innovation, he has a single person to turn to Cecile. Every invention starts as an idea, a flicker of inspiration, that demands perseverance to be forced into reality. Fortunately, Cecile has a knack for transforming ambitious concepts into working machines. Instead of praise, each success only leads to more difficult requests, each one a test of her ingenuity, endurance, and resolve.
Her haphazard tools are ready. Her mind is as sharp as ever. Yet progress doesn’t come to fruition without obstacles. Unfortunately, there are challenges that will cause even the most dedicated and brilliant tinkerer to the breaking point. With time slipping away and pressure mounting, Cecile must navigate the fine line between genius and impossibility. Will she rise to the occasion? Or will this project prove too ambitious?
Grab a comfortable seat as we step into her workshop to feel the weight of Jarvis’s latest visit and witness Cecile’s struggle between her ingenuity and his demanding demeanor.
Cecile’s shoulders sagged as she rolled her eyes. Her fingers wrapped around the tool as she slammed it against her workbench. “You or your messengers popping into my workshop daily aren’t going to expedite my work, Jarvis.” She tossed the implement onto the counter before cracking her knuckles on the table’s edge. “In fact, the more you pester me, the longer it’ll take to fabricate whatever you’re asking for. If you want it done, stop asking when I’ll complete it!”
“Are you finished with your tantrum?”
Her mouth scrunched, tugging her lips into a scowl. “Excuse me?”
Jarvis leaned against the doorframe as he chewed his lip and tapped the edge of the door. “When you’re stressed and frustrated, it’s not uncommon for tirades like that to rush out of your mouth.”
Cecile closed her eyes as she rubbed her temples, and a terse silence filled the chamber. When her eyes opened, she drew several breaths as she pulled a stool out from under the workbench. With a huff, Cecile plopped onto the seat and folded her arms across her chest. “Fine, maybe I’m a little worked up.” She reached out and plucked a bolt from the table and twirled it about her fingers. “Regardless, stop harassing me for a timeline. There’s no clear finish line for this, and you know it.”
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