When an Engineer Walks Into the Magic
I came to Florida for vacation, not a job. I handed out a laminated card, shared what I build for fun, and something unexpected happened. Maybe this is how it begins.
I didn’t come here trying to get a job. I didn’t have a pitch. I came with my family and a few cards I made at home. Just printed them on cardstock, laminated them, and cut them out with scissors. Nothing fancy. I threw them in my bag before we left. I didn’t even think I’d hand one to anybody.
Then something strange happened.
A welfare check that started in Ohio somehow followed me all the way to Florida. I ended up being pulled aside inside the park. It was jarring. I didn’t know what to expect. But instead of turning into something ugly, it shifted. I found myself standing with a park manager. We started talking. I told them I build things. I said I make systems and devices and cards like this, just for fun, just because I feel like they need to exist. And they looked at me and said, you should apply. We need engineers. Move to Florida. They even joked that my hair wouldn’t be a problem.
So I did. I applied.
The glitch in the middle of the magic
Maybe it was random. Maybe it wasn’t. But for a moment something cracked open and I felt like I was where I was supposed to be. I wasn’t invisible. I wasn’t just visiting. I was seen. Even if nothing comes out of it, I’ll still remember that moment. Being pulled out of line, then handed a chance. Someone looked at me and said, you could be one of us. And that meant more than they probably realized.
If it does turn into something, maybe it leads to meeting Lanny.
Why Lanny Smoot matters to me
Lanny has been someone I’ve looked up to for a long time. The stuff he builds isn’t just cool. It feels alive. His work moves like it knows something. Interactive lightsabers, teleport illusions, walls that react to sound, things that shouldn’t exist but somehow do. He doesn’t just make tech. He creates systems that hold wonder. Stuff that listens. Stuff that responds. Stuff that makes people feel something they can’t explain.
I’ve read his patents. Watched his talks. Listened to how he explains things with that spark in his voice. You can tell he still gets excited. That he still cares. That he never let the world drain it out of him.
If I ever get the chance to meet him, I wouldn’t try to impress him. I’d want to sit down and ask real questions. I’d ask what still surprises him. What gives him that feeling he gives to others. Who shows Lanny the magic he doesn’t create. I’d ask what he builds for no one. What he never shows anyone but keeps working on anyway. I’d ask what keeps him going and how he protects that part of himself that still believes in joy, in illusion, in making things that do more than work. I’d want to hear what he thinks about when the room is quiet and the project is almost done.
I wouldn’t ask how to get where he got. I’d ask how he stayed who he is.
And honestly, I’d thank him. Because knowing he exists has helped me believe I’m not alone in how I think. He made me feel like maybe there is space for engineers like me. People who build systems with soul. People who care about how something feels, not just if it functions.
Meeting him would be a dream. But either way, I’m already carrying the blueprint.
founder@aoengineering.io