Adventure with Toys Ver.2

Which will you choose: fantasy or reality? 

Though fantasy is definitely sweeter, we are often slapped into reality by the puzzles life throws at us. But as a little child, everyone surely lived a rather dreamy life. At least in my youth, I did. Somewhere in the world, dragons still existed, soaring high above the seas, breathing fire. Demigods would take an adventure under the blessing of Zeus and Poseidon. And at every Christmas, Santa Claus would send elves disguised as men to monitor kids and make the naughty list (gods, I was so afraid of being on the list).

However, I was an odd boy, much more than my fellow daydreamers. The heroes of dreamland were not just imaginations to me. They were literally next to me every second. Now, I’m perfectly healthy; I don’t see things or go to mental hospitals. But believe it or not, it’s real. I met the heroes in an artificial world: a world made of toys.

It all started on my fifth birthday. That day, on a warm April morning, I got the first Power Ranger figure as my birthday present. We kindergarteners were CRAZY about Power Rangers at that time. But as time passed, we got older and new cool toys came out. And like Woody of Toy Story, the heroes in rainbows got outdated. While most of the little men retired to attics, my rangers started adapting. They were no longer just toys for children. They became a bridge, bringing my imagination to life.

           Novels, movies, and dramas were reconstructed in my bedroom. Power Rangers weren’t just Power Rangers anymore – they came alive as characters from diverse origins. My favorite, the red ranger, became the protagonist of numerous stories that I made up or extended. One day, he was the son of Harry Potter, fighting an imaginary villain that is even eviler than Voldemort. Another day, he was a new member of the Avengers and led the fight with Thanos. As more toys from around the world filled my room, my world expanded. In this boundless world, I spent my childhood happily ever after.

       

Even now, at the edge of teenage, the red ranger remains as my best pal. Looking at the 3-inch tall figure sitting on my bookshelf, I now even see a reflection of myself. The adventures of my best friend continue in reality; the only difference is that I now take his place.

Interpreting the language of infants, restoring ancient artifacts, creating shape-shifting robots, and so on. As impossible as they seem, they deserve it: a hero’s quest is never easy. Algorithms as my sword, I slice through my path and approach the destination. Monsters like errors and miscalculations occasionally make a fatal blow on me, but like a hero, I rise and continue my journey. When I meet the dark lord, I never get him at once. All weapons and magic, AlexNet, VGGNet, and even the all-powerful ResNet, fail me. But sometimes, a simple knife like Random Forest does the magic. For the effort, all I get is a pat on the back by myself. After that, a new quest begins, just like a hero who leaves after a grand feast overnight.

           Everyday, I imagine. Even though thirteen years has passed, I am still a naïve and dreamy boy: a hero just like my old, red pal. And no matter what, I will never stop imagining (and playing with toys). Through imagination, I walk my own path.

           Reality is often easier to choose; not many people hold on to their childhood beliefs. For most people, algebra and calculus fill their world in their late teens. But to me, dragons fill the sky, war cries of demigods ring in my ear, and Santa still sends presents on Christmas eve. And my toys, now old and rusted, still accompanies me on new adventures. 

Now, where should we go today?