(Rebecca's POV)
Quarterly maintenance on the original prototype arm falls on a Thursday, same as always. I do it myself. Have since the beginning, back when the arm was still called Unit One and nobody at RobotX believed a brain-computer interface could ever move fast enough to matter.
Nobody else touches this maintenance. Eric offered to reassign it to the junior techs once, early on, and I said no so fast he laughed and never brought it up again. Some things you keep for yourself. This arm is one of them — the first proof that any of this could work, sitting in a climate-controlled case in the back corner of the lab like a relic nobody quite knows how to retire.
I open the maintenance panel the way I always do. Small hex key, four screws, the panel swinging free on its hinge.
Somethi
