text: If I thought I needed proof from whatever powers that be that gamer-girl is my new destiny, this might just be it. But let me not get ahead of myself.
  
  Because first, lights are dimmed, and from a few rows behind me, a raucous stomp cheer starts up and seats are now rocking. Stomp clap, stomp stomp clap, stomp stomp clap clap, stomp stomp clap.
  
  Miraculously, row by row by row, we are all, kinda, sorta, more or less, on beat. And I know you are waiting for me to shrug and say something self-deprecating like, "well, except for my two left feet," but for the record, let me just state that while I may be a cardholding member of the Velma Valedictorians, I am the one with two dancing feet— you might remember my cherished LARPing spectators— and natural rhythm. Stomp stomp clap clap!
  
  Stomp stomp clap.
  
  Perfectly timed to the countdown ending! The main event begins. The challenge is ready to be issued, the gauntlet thrown. The room falls immediately, completely quiet as here we go ...
  
  Live action on the screen: We see a lone girl descending the stairs into a brick-walled basement. She finds a plastic-covered video arcade game, removes the cover, fishes in her pocket for a coin, feeds it into the machine, and is launched inside the game ...where she finds an eight-bit throwback world waiting.
  
  You know, the old-school, super-colorful, pixelated, console look. Totally Nintendo retro.
  
  Here, the now-avatared young girl meets fellow avatar, Big Wig Bossi, who tells her she must find and collect seven power cubes in the FIRST realm. Then she'll be ready to play.
  
  And she's off. Starting with a quick stop at the Critical Commodities Closet, followed by the Mentor Pool, finally netting directions to the Lotus Flower.
  
  Here she comes upon a yoga-chillin', sukhasana-sitting Dr. Woodie Flowers, who magically pops out of the game and out of avatar shape, and into live form to chat about metacognition, which would be thinking about thinking, and stopping our sneaky brain.
  
  Which of course, sets my sneaky brain right off.
  
  I force myself to not start swiveling about, checking in case anyone, for any reason, is suddenly thinking of having their sneaky brain looking at me. Easier said than done.
  
  "...a team member who successfully sells a bad idea is not helping ..."
  
  Now there's some truth for you.
  
  "...as you build your robot you can learn an important lesson about truth's superiority over group think ...pay attention to this." With that last word of caution, Dr. Woodie launches himself back inside the game, avatar girl sets back off, and cubes four through six are quickly gathered.
  
  Which gets us to the seventh and final cube. A cube which will come straight from the rock star himself, an eight-bit, animated, Segway-riding Dean Kamen.
  
  Yes, my friends, Mr. God of Robotics, inventor of Segways and other genius products, is speaking directly to us. Or at least his avatar is. And it's pretty intense. You can actually feel the awesomeness quotient radiating, nearly vibrating, throughout the auditorium.
  
  I suddenly, fully grasp this isn't just some random school project, but that all across the United States and in over a hundred countries around the world, we are all watching this same video ...and we're all getting ready to compete.
  
  I mean, I knew on some surface level it was an "international competition," but this is the first time I really, internally, get this enormity. I am awed by how freaking cool, and therefore kind of scary, this whole thing is.
  
  Avatar Dean also exits the animated world for the live one, and as he does, his conversation becomes more personal, both about him, "My best ideas come when I'm enthusiastic and optimistic," and about us, "Use your time wisely. Be willing to take risks. Learn from your failures and keep moving."
  
  And then Dean Kamen is wrapping up, and I'm leaning in, and what he says is something I intuitively know will be important to me forever. "Take the right risks."
  
  That strikes home as I lean back and take my eyes off the screen for just a minute and realize everyone's caught in this same energetic glow. As though she can feel my eyes roaming, Imani turns to me, and we know exactly what we are both thinking without saying it out loud, this really is freaking amazing.
  
  And now, the chit and the chat and the shtick are over.
  
  This year's game is revealed.
  
  An animated scoreboard screen appears, like the kind hanging from the ceiling at Madison Square Garden, bearing the name of this year's competition, in three separate lines, FIRST Power Up.
  
  And cue the challenge!
  
  A Day-Glo colorful animated graphic begins our journey through the competition. We watch as two alliances of video game characters/robots and their human operators, one blue, one red, find themselves trapped in an arcade game. To escape, alliances use power cubes to control switches and scales; pass power cubes through the exchange to earn power-ups, which are worth extra points, time and climbs; and finally ascend to face the boss.
  
  At the start of each match, the plates of the scale and the switches will be randomized, so the course will not play the same way each time through.
  
  The video continues, giving us a play-by-play from station to station, until finally we have traveled the course and get to the summation: the alliance that gains the most ranking points wins the match and defeats the boss.
  
  And now we are on a live feed, on the actual playing field, which is called the arcade. As each component lights up, it is nearly as colorful as its animated counterpart.
  
  It is here, among the engineers and the designers, that Dr. Flowers "levels up" and delivers to us all, the moment we came to get: The Code.
  
  pLaY&4%R3aL!
  
  Vik and Marcus scramble to enter it and boom, the game manual is released, and we are on the move.
  
  Designers. Coders. Interested Parties descend en masse into Smitty's lab, all set to begin.
  
  As soon as the huddling begins, I realize I've been had, but it's too late. Yes, as promised, the Twincesses and Hand Jive are two lab tables over, huddling on their stools, waiting for Marcus, but that separation will end as soon as we are finished designing competing bots and one is picked to be built.
  
  Resigned to my fate, I look up and espy Jean and Aaron, who are still here, but haven't actually made it inside the room. They're kind of doing that door-hugging thing. It's like an epic cliffhanger. Will they be kicked to the curb, or will someone rescue them and let them join their table?
  
  Which engenders another big sigh from me as I sort through my three immediate colliding thoughts: 1) my parents will kill me if I leave him out there; 2) he's actually pretty smart and way more into gaming than me, which might help; and 3) he is, alas, my brother. So if I kick him to the curb, that's fair play. But if someone else were to do it, I'd have to defend him.
  
  Frankly this would be an easier decision if Aaron didn't remind me of a slurping Igor, which I am not allowed to say because Jean gets all defensive. Whatever.
  
  I get it over with and wave them over, just in time for Marcus and Vikram to join us. Vikram is carrying reams of paper, while Marcus is balancing several large duffel bags.
  
  "Okay, people, listen up," Marcus calls, focusing everyone's attention. "I have here the Kickoff Kit and the three drivetrains. Two of the drivetrains come from previous years, so remember they aren't all going to be exactly the same. Vikram has copies of the game manual, and an e-file will also be sent to you as soon as we get everyone's involvement coordinated."
  
  "Memorize it." Vikram says. His delivery, I am relieved to report, is no longer depressive. A little terse, perhaps. The energy from watching the launch video and running to make copies seems to have revived his spirit, albeit not particularly playfully.
  
  "There is nothing beyond these pages." Maybe a bit abrupt. "If you use even one 'disallowed' wire, screw, or anything else, we will all be disqualified."
  
  And letdown! I was hoping he was going to finish by saying, "screwed." Then I could credit him with an epigrammatic flourish. Alas. Too late.
  
  Time to design a bot.