The Six Little Robots

Once upon a time, in a quiet little town, there was a shop that sold cardboard boxes. It was kept by a clever craftsman who put each box together by hand, and people would buy them to store chocolate, crackers, books, balloons, nails, nuts, and all sorts of things. As the years passed, the craftsman's body grew more weary, and soon, he became tired of his work.

"What I need,” he said to himself, “are some machines to make the boxes for me. They'll never need to sleep, eat or drink. That means they'll make more boxes in a day then I ever could, and since I'll have more wares to sell, I'll soon have a lot more money!”

So, the craftsman travelled across the town to see his friend: an inventor. After hearing the craftsman's idea, the inventor agreed to build the machines he needed - for a small fee, of course – and told him to come back in three days' time. The craftsman, pleased, returned home, and began to dream of all the money he would soon have in his pockets.

When the three days were up, the craftsman returned to the inventor's house, as agreed. There, on a workbench, waiting for him, were six little robots, all handmade by the inventor himself. Each one was a foot high and filled with gears and cogs, with bodies made of melted steel and little lights for eyes. They had arms and legs, but instead of hands, each robot had two little pincers: perfect for holding and bending cardboard.

The craftsman, overjoyed with the inventor's creations, paid the fee and took them back to his shop, displaying them proudly in the window so passers-by could watch them work. However, a few days later, during a quiet moment in the shop, the craftsmen looked at his little workers in the window, and made a strange discovery.

As he watched them, the craftsman realised that five of the little robots worked in a set, steady pattern: moving as one, they each picked up a sheet of cardboard, made a box, and put it the corner of the window. The sixth one, meanwhile, was a little different. Sometimes, after making a box, it would pick up crayons and draw pictures on it: things like flowers, boats and stars. Other times, it would use its little pincers to punch holes in the cardboard, making pretty patterns. In addition, the robot made little beeping and booping sounds as it worked, which, as the craftsman listened to them, sounded almost like singing. Sadly, the craftsman didn't care for the sixth robot's creations, because the little details it put into them took time: it made half as many boxes as the five others. On top of that, the noises it made got on his nerves.

The craftsman, angry, decided to pay the inventor another visit. In the early hours of the morning, when the stars were still shining, he marched around to his house, knocked loudly upon the door, and shouted:

“You liar! You fraud! Open up! You've sold me broken goods!”

The inventor, fast asleep in his bed, woke up in terror upon hearing the noise. Still dressed in his pyjamas, he rushed to the door right away. When he opened it, the craftsman grabbed his arm, and dragged him through the streets to his shop.

Still yawning, the inventor was ordered to open up each of the little robots, and did so under the craftsman's steely glare. It was soon made clear that the parts inside the sixth little robot were identical to the five others. Whatever was causing its creativity was something the inventor could not explain.

Soon, the sixth little robot started to gain the attention of customers. Crowds huddled around the window, day in, day out, and marvelled at the robot's unique and beautiful creations, listening to its strange little melodies. After some time, their interest moved away from its boxes, and to the robot itself.

One morning, an artist strolled into the shop, her long dress sweeping along the floor. Eagerly, she approached the craftsman, and said:

“Your little robot draws such wonderful pictures! I want to take it to my studio, so it can help me make paintings there! I'll give you 100 gold coins for it!”

The craftsman, outraged, ushered her out, saying:

“No! No! Leave! You go away!
In my window it will stay!
I care nothing for your art!
Building boxes is its part!”

The next day, a haberdasher passed by the shop window. Upon seeing the sixth little robot at work, she dashed inside, went to the craftsman, and said:

“Such patterns! Such craft! That little robot of yours is a marvel! It would be so helpful in my shop, making holes like those in my lace curtains and dresses! Let me buy it for 200 gold coins!”

Once again, the craftsman refused, saying:

“No! No! Leave! You go away!
In my window it will stay!
I care nothing for your art!
Building boxes is its part!”

The day after that, a musician, walking through the streets, overheard the sixth little robot's strange version of singing. He had never heard such a unique, special tune before. He called the craftsman to the shop door and said:

“Those sounds! That melody! They must form a part of my music! 300 gold coins for your little robot – what do you say?”

The craftsman, having grown tired of such talk, ordered him to leave, saying:

“No! No! Leave! You go away!
In my window it will stay!
I care nothing for your art!
Building boxes is its part!”

As time went on, the craftsman grew angrier and angrier at all the attention the little robot was getting. People would stand around the window for hours to watch it work, but few bothered to come inside to buy boxes. Even the robot's creations were flawed: the crayon drawings became smudged if they were touched, and the hole patterns meant the box's contents were no longer dirt-proof. And so, three months after buying the little machine, the craftsman snatched it up and returned it to the inventor.

“I don't care if you can't explain its talents!” he said. “Take it apart and rebuild it! I want it to be the same as all the others!”

The inventor, who had seen enough of his friend's outbursts, agreed to try again. He moved around the robot's cogs and gears, replaced a part or two, and some time later, he set it to work again. He was delighted to discover that his creation no longer drew, made patterns or sang, but instead made boxes in an orderly, routine fashion – just like the five others. The craftsman was equally happy when he saw this for himself.

With the repairs made, the six robots produced more boxes than ever, and the craftsman still made a steady profit. Yet, he soon noticed that crowds no longer gathered around the window: the shop and its robots were lucky to get a quick glance or two each day. Later on, he found that he missed seeing the special boxes the sixth little robot had made, which were lovely to look at even if they were flawed. Later still, he realised that he even missed the robot's strangely pleasant singing sounds.

Now knowing that he had made a terrible mistake, the craftsman took the little robot back to the inventor, and asked him to return its artistic abilities. Unfortunately, the inventor had never known what had given his creation such skills in the first place, and thus, he had no idea how to bring them back. He took the robot apart once more in an effort to restore its gifts... and to this day, he is still trying.

Moral:
Never stifle or destroy someone's creativity. Once it is lost, it is not easily recovered.