After my victorious cookie-solving mission, I felt a sense of achievement. I was a genius after all, and a five-year-old genius, at that. But I wasn't done for the day. Oh no. I had much bigger plans in mind. My latest project? The Elevator Dilemma.
The problem had been bothering me for weeks. We lived in a building with elevators, and I had noticed something odd. Whenever people used the elevator, they pressed all the buttons. Why? It was inefficient and time-wasting.
So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I slipped into my secret laboratory (which was just my bedroom with the door closed and a blanket fort on the floor), and began preparing. I needed to figure out how to train people to press only the buttons they needed, without wasting any time.
I pulled out a piece of paper and began drawing the elevator system—buttons, floors, and the whole shebang. Then, I made a few calculations. I was going to create a prototype to teach the people in the building how to be more efficient.
My plan was simple: A device that would press the button for the floor people wanted to go to, and only that floor. A small, remote-controlled robot that could detect which button needed to be pressed and press it for you. Genius, right?
I began assembling the pieces I had gathered—small motors, wires, and some leftover parts from old toys. A couple of hours later, I had a rudimentary contraption that I was very proud of. I called it "PressBot."
I tested PressBot by sending it through the house, making it navigate my hallway to find the door to the elevator. After a few trial runs and minor tweaks, it was time to test it on a live audience.
It was time to bring it to the building's elevator.
I waited for the evening when the elevator would be quiet. When it was just me and a few people, I snuck into the lobby with PressBot hidden under my jacket.
The elevator doors opened, and I slipped inside, pressing the button for the floor I needed to reach.
A few people followed, and before the doors could close, they started pressing random buttons.
I smiled. This was it.
I pressed the button on my device, and PressBot sprang to life.
It wheeled forward, pressing the button for the floor of the person closest to it. I watched as the robot performed its task with impeccable accuracy. The other people were amazed.
"What just happened?" one of them asked.
"I think it just pressed the button for me," another one said, astonished.
"That's right," I said, grinning. "It's more efficient. Why press multiple buttons when you only need one?"
The elevator stopped at the next floor, and PressBot moved forward once more, performing its task flawlessly.
I was on top of the world. I had solved a problem no one had even noticed.
As the elevator ride continued, I beamed with pride, knowing that I had changed the course of human elevator etiquette forever.
But just as the elevator was about to reach the ground floor, disaster struck.
PressBot ran out of battery.
It stopped abruptly, its wheels still moving, but the button had already been pressed.
"Well, maybe I need a backup plan," I thought, disappointed but still determined.