Where metal and silicon turn into plushies.

This is essentially a portfolio site wearing a trench coat. Said trench coat is themed around the story of Dr. Luche and his robot lab assistant, Pikita. Someday, I'll make robotic plushies with my own hands. Until then, let this serve as a placeholder for this dream of mine.

A long time before the beginning of How to Build a Starship, a man known as Dr. Luche creates a lab assistant robot meant to break the mold of the sterile, uncanny machines we're used to. Instead, Pikita is built to be cute, endlessly silly and a bit of a troublemaker.

Early in his artificial life, though, Pikita's V.0 model with treaded legs falls down a flight of stairs and breaks. As he comes to inspect the noise, V.0 Pikita turns to him and apologizes for disappointing him before powering down. Despite knowing the robot wasn't anywhere near sentient, watching his innocent metal child die in his arms fills him with a resolve to make the next model absolutely indestructible.

As the version number increases, Dr. Luche delves into more and more outlandish projects that result in world-spanning technological breakthroughs.

The final version 5.0 is a self-improving nanomachine swarm surrounding a miniaturized fusion reactor, which renders its expressions on a plush-like surface by dynamically embroidering itself at ludicrous speeds.

Pikita's directive is to be infinitely silly. Children must grow out of naivete eventually and harden themselves against a cruel world. This invincible machine can never be destroyed, and as such he can allow himself to endlessly wander the universe with the curiosity of a baby and the bravery of a warmachine.

In the novel, Pikita is known as the mascot of the company but rarely makes direct appearances. However, his fate is intertwined with the destiny of the universe. One of the novel's overarching themes is the differentiation between man and machine, and sentient robots' quest to acquire what can be called a soul. And perhaps someday the Scion of the Star Age will face that dilemma himself.

Does he who has achieved the truest form of silliness even need a soul? Or is there something beyond for him to discover, something only a man's irrational, selfish project could hope to achieve?