Lego doesn't recognise him - Nils the brick becomes a target
Nils the Lego brick wanted to change his world. But his dream job as a concrete block 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.
Source: KI-generiert mit DALL·E
At first, Nils found his new everyday life a little boring, but reassuring. Clear structures at last, no hectic rebuilding after play fits, no destructive attacks from little siblings or pets. But recently, Nils' new adult life became unexpectedly complicated. The Danish toy company Lego had sued his employer - the concrete blocks allegedly looked too similar to their plastic cousins. Suddenly, Nils found himself in the middle of an absurd identity crisis: was he still a toy - or already serious architecture?
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, now we're also copyright problem cases. Soon they'll be suing us for emotional proximity to clamping bricks from Asia."
Source: KI-generiert mit DALL·E
One day, during a particularly dry break in the proceedings, Nils discovered a small, colourful Lego figure lying around lost on the building site. He looked at it thoughtfully. Then he realised: perhaps Lego should return to its roots instead of getting entangled in legal disputes with sober concrete blocks. Because deep down, life is too colourful and creative to suffocate in grey concrete reality. And maybe one day the rest of the world will realise that creativity knows no boundaries - neither plastic nor concrete.
Header image: AI-generated with DALL-E
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Riding my motorbike makes me feel free, fishing brings out my inner hunter, using my camera gets me creative. I make my money messing around with toys all day.
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