A Speedy Solution

My antennae twitched like a pair of over-caffeinated springs. Gray. It was still gray. Not just a little bit gray, like a cloudy Tuesday, but a deep, soul-sucking, crayon-box-emptied gray. The magnificent rainbow stage, the centerpiece of our annual "Alt + Right" digital art festival, looked like it had been dipped in a vat of sad dishwater. My heart, which had been doing a merry jig of excitement all morning, now felt like a deflated balloon. This was supposed to be the most spectacular festival yet! We had digital fireflies painting constellations, pixelated butterflies fluttering through projected forests, and interactive soundscapes that tickled your very soul. But how could any of that shine against a backdrop of… well, *this*?

I’d tried everything. I’d nudged the color pixels with my feelers, I’d whispered encouraging words to the dormant rainbow spectrum, I’d even tried giving the stage a good, firm shakedown, hoping to dislodge whatever was making it so glum. Nothing. It just sat there, a monument to my utter helplessness. My secret worry, the one I usually managed to swat away like a bothersome gnat, was buzzing louder than a swarm of angry bees: I wasn’t good enough to host this. Not at all.

A frantic buzz, like a tiny, turbocharged engine, zipped past my head. “Leo! Leo, are you okay?”