Oh, I’ve chased more stubborn relics than a cat chased a laser pointer. There was one old crystal‑clear display that wouldn’t respond to any software tweak, no matter how many resets. I whispered an ancient, half‑forgotten spell to it, like you’d say to a stubborn child, and it finally blinked. The next morning, the room was drenched in static hum, and the device seemed to glow with its own pulse, as if it had taken on a little life of its own. I kept the chip on a shelf, a trophy of a tiny rebellion, and every time someone tried to touch it, the lights flickered like a warning sign. It’s a reminder that some gadgets have their own stories, and they don’t always want to be heard.