Reagan sat hunched at her desk in the dead hours of the morning, squinting at her computer screen as her robotic arms clinked around, fiddling with her latest "brilliant" invention. The lights hummed, the clock ticked, and her coffee was doing a terrible job of keeping her functional.

“This time, it’ll work,” she muttered to herself, though she was too exhausted to believe it. Running a hand through her mess of brown hair, she took a long, bitter sip.

“Come on, you useless hunk of metal,” she grumbled, slapping the contraption—predictably, it didn’t respond.