LEGO doesn't recognise him - brick Nils becomes a target
LEGO brick Nils wanted to change his world. But his dream job as a concrete brick landed him in the middle of an absurd legal battle with his former employer LEGO.
The following story reads like a fictitious fit of creativity by a toy editor, but it is based on real events.
Once upon a time there was a little LEGO brick called Nils. He was created by his makers to make children's eyes light up. But he himself dreamed of big skyscrapers, wild building projects and boundless creativity - in the real world. After countless years of turbulent childhood life between Star Wars cruisers and unfinished house facades, Nils decided to rebel and pursue his dream - he wanted to grow up.
New job - new problems
The job as a concrete block maker was exactly what he needed: stability, order, reliability. He was happy about the career move. And yet he sometimes found himself missing his old Lego colleagues - especially the little figures with their lopsided hairstyles and eternal grins. They had no idea about statics, but they had plenty of stories to tell.
But now the day began at eight sharp: Nils positioned himself accurately between his colleagues - massive, grey concrete blocks. There was rarely any small talk - at most a dry «Moin» or the occasional complaint about the weather. Every now and then, someone would mutter something about construction site dust or the quality of the cement.
The days became increasingly bizarre: building foundations at 9am, stabilising load-bearing walls at 11am, lunch break at 1pm with a hastily eaten sandwich, and from 2pm onwards constant legal discussions about copyright, trademark law and design protection. Instead of standing on a colourful play mat, Nils now regularly stood in court and listened to dry legal arguments. He finished work at 5 pm - exhausted, confused and discouraged.
Sometimes during his lunch break, Nils would talk nostalgically about his wild Lego days as a child, creative explosions in the nursery and painful encounters with bare feet. His colleagues listened politely, but shook their heads in resignation: «Now we're not just concrete, we're also copyright problem cases. Soon they'll be suing us for emotional proximity to clamping bricks from Asia.»
I get paid to play with toys all day.
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