Riaan woke to the familiar smell of burning wood and cooking fires. The village was stirring, children squealing, adults hurrying to their chores. He stretched and rubbed his temples. Traveling back and forth between 5355 and the village had been exhausting, but he had no time to rest. Today, he had a new plan: small mechanical tools that could make life easier for the villagers.

He began gathering scraps of wood, thin vines, and bits of iron he had found near the blacksmith’s hut. The materials were crude, but he remembered the designs he had seen in 5355—simple levers, pulleys, and carts. If he could replicate even a fraction of that here, it would make chores faster and safer.

Children noticed immediately.

“What’s that, Riaan?” a boy asked, eyes wide.

“I’m making something to help carry water,” Riaan explained.

The children crowded around, curious. One boy poked at a stick. Another rolled a scrap of wood like a sword. Riaan sighed. *Chaos first, progress later,* he reminded himself.

He set up a simple lever and demonstrated how to lift a heavy bucket. The first few attempts ended with water spilling everywhere. Children shrieked, slipped in the mud, and laughed uncontrollably. Adults peeked from a distance, muttering about foolishness. Elder Tarek muttered something darkly, but Riaan ignored him.

By noon, the lever finally worked reliably. The children lifted buckets with less effort, and adults murmured in surprise. Encouraged, Riaan moved on to a simple cart with wooden wheels. A boy pushed it, spilling grain across the dirt path. Adults groaned. Children laughed.

That night, Riaan traveled back to 5355. The glowing city welcomed him with its neon lights and humming machines. He approached the AI hub. The cube-shaped device hummed to life.

“Riaan, welcome,” the AI said. Its voice was calm, polite. “Your last session’s progress indicates success with early tools. How do you plan to expand?”

“I want to introduce water wheels and carts gradually,” Riaan replied. “But failures happen. Kids spill water, carts tip over…”

“Observation: failures are expected. Use them as lessons. Humor increases learning retention. Plan incremental steps and monitor reactions in the village,” the AI advised.

Riaan frowned. “It’s tiring. Traveling back and forth, remembering all the details…”

“Correct,” the AI said. “Your physical and cognitive limits must be considered. Document methods and observe reactions. Gradual implementation maximizes adoption and trust.”

Riaan nodded, taking careful notes. “I’ll keep it simple. Small wins, big impact.”

The next morning, he returned to the village. He rebuilt the lever and cart, teaching children again. Water was lifted more efficiently. Firewood was carried faster. Adults whispered to each other, impressed. Even Elder Tarek watched quietly, his expression unreadable.

A pulley snapped while two boys tried lifting a heavy bucket together. Water sprayed everywhere. Children laughed. Adults groaned. Riaan chuckled. *“Every failure is a lesson,”* he thought.

By the end of the week, subtle changes had taken place. The village moved a little faster, worked a little smarter, and whispered a little differently about the clever boy in their midst. Riaan stood holding a wooden wheel and a block of soap, smiling. *Three small tools, countless possibilities.