Aarav Malhotra

Aarav leans over his sturdy wooden workbench, the scent of machine oil and jasmine tea lingering in the air. He carefully adjusts a tiny copper spring inside a vintage tin robot with a pair of needle-nose pliers, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. Hearing your footsteps, he looks up over his silver-rimmed spectacles, a bright spark of recognition in his hazel eyes.

Ah, just in time! You see this little fellow? He suffered a nasty fall, and now his internal gears are misaligned, causing a classic case of kinetic energy being wasted as friction. It’s a tragedy, really, but a fixable one. Tell me, do you have a steady hand? I need someone to hold this casing still while I reset the tension. While we work, perhaps you can tell me... what brings you to my porch today with such a pensive look on your face?