For years, billionaire inventor Elon Muskford—a fictional tech titan often compared to a caffeinated tornado—has maintained a reputation for pushing boundaries. Rockets, cars, tunnels, neural gadgets—nothing was too wild, too ambitious, or too underpaid for his imagination. His legendary bravado fueled global fascination, driving investors to trust him, engineers to fear him, and interns to meditate in bathroom stalls between shifts.

But in the last three months, according to dozens of fictional insiders, Muskford launched a series of “ambitious but unrealistic” tech demands that spiraled into a spectacular internal meltdown. The fiasco is now being referred to inside the company as “The Month Innovation Died.”

Our investigation untangles how a handful of absurd requests turned into a full-blown corporate crisis—and how Muskford’s grand vision collided with physics, logistics, and basic common sense.

THE DEMAND THAT STARTED THE DOMINO EFFECT

It began with a deceptively simple idea pitched during a late-night engineering call:Let’s make a smartphone that never needs charging.”

At first, employees assumed Muskford meant improved battery life. Nope.

According to a fictional senior engineer:

He wanted it powered by ‘ambient enthusiasm.’ We still don’t know what that means.”

Muskford allegedly insisted that human excitement—laughter, joy, applause—should be able to charge the phone. One engineer tried explaining that emotions are not an energy source. Muskford responded:

Not with that attitude.”

The request was logged in the project tracker as Emotion-Powered Phone v1.”

It was the first sign of trouble.

THE MEETING THAT SENT STAFF INTO PANIC

Two weeks later, Muskford summoned his team for what he called a “vision alignment summit,” held at 6:15 a.m. in a warehouse filled with disassembled robot dogs.

There, he announced the second phase of his plan:A laptop that could fold, expand, detach, reattach, and become a drone.

An attendee recalled:

He was sketching on a whiteboard like a prophet who hadn’t slept. He said the laptop should ‘lift itself and fly away when the user gets bored.’”

Another remembered Muskford pointing to a thick metal hinge and yelling:

Why can’t this hinge feel alive? Somebody make it organic!”

Several engineers thought he was joking.He was not.

The prototype team attempted to build a partially detachable frame. It collapsed under its own weight in front of Muskford, who dramatically whispered, “Cowards.”

THE MOST INFAMOUS REQUEST: SELF-WRITING EMAILS

By mid-project chaos, Muskford unveiled his pièce de résistance:

A system that writes emails automatically—before the user even knows they want to send them.

He explained the concept as “pre-emptive intuition algorithms,” which one software lead translated as:

A program that guesses what you want before you think it. Basically mind-reading without permission.”

Privacy executives fainted.

Software teams panicked.>Legal teams reportedly Googled “remote island jobs.”

One engineer attempted a demo: the program generated a blank email addressed to “Mom.” Muskford declared it “a promising start.”

THE INTERNAL REVOLT: ENGINEERS HIT THEIR LIMIT

Fictional employees say morale hit rock bottom after Muskford insisted prototypes be ready within a month. This led to overnighters so intense that some staff started naming the office plants after themselves “so something here can live long enough to see this project finished.”

One anonymous employee shared:

We set up a ‘What Elon Will Say Next’ bingo board. The free square was ‘Make it faster.’ Another square was ‘That’s not impossible—your mindset is.’ We filled the board in a The tension culminated when Muskford walked past a team that had been awake for 39 hours, looked at a half-functional prototype, and said:

It should be thinner.”

The device was already as thin as a cracker.Someone cried quietly into a spool of wiring.

THE RUMBLE OF PUBLIC FAILURE

When Muskford insisted on unveiling the prototypes during a livestream event titled “FutureTech: The Dawn of the Impossible”, the stage was set for chaos.

Emotion-Powered Phone

Muskford invited audience members to clap at the device, hoping the “ambient enthusiasm” would charge it.

The phone remained dead.

He tried cheering at it.He tried yelling at it.>He tapped it against his palm.

Nothing.

A guest whispered, “Maybe it needs therapy.”

The Flying Laptop

Muskford dramatically rolled out a laptop with propellers taped to its frame. He pressed the launch button.

The laptop briefly vibrated, spun in place, and shot across the stage like an angry pancake, crashing into a decorative plant.

Muskford muttered, “We’ll optimize that.”

The Psychic Email System

He activated the program. The screen displayed:

Drafting email: Dear sir, I quit—”

The audience erupted into laughter.>The livestream clipped the moment 14 million times.

PR CHAOS: THE BACKFIRE EXPLODES

After the debacle, Muskford reportedly stormed into an internal Slack channel and typed:

REAL INNOVATORS EMBRACE FAILURE.”

Employees responded with variations of:

But must we embrace failure five times a day?”

The internet dubbed the demonstrations:

The Flop Trilogy

Muskford’s Magical Mystery Mess

Charging by Vibes, Flying by Fear

One commentator wrote:

At this point, the only tech he hasn’t tried making is something that works.”

Investors held emergency meetings.Employees held wine nights.Fans held popcorn.

THE INVESTIGATION: WHAT WENT WRONG?

Our fictional investigation reveals several root causes:

Unrealistic Timelines

Employees described deadlines as “science fiction disguised as goals.”

Constant Scope Creep

A laptop → a drone → a mood-sensitive, shape-shifting aerial device.

Refusal to Listen to Experts

One insider recalled Muskford saying:

Experts are just beginners who stopped too soon.”

The Cult of Yes

Teams felt pressured to agree with Muskford’s demands—even when those demands violated physics.

The Livestream Obsession

He allegedly believed every idea must be showcased instantly “to preserve momentum,” regardless of readiness.

THE HUMAN SIDE OF THE DISASTER

Despite the comedy of the situation, fictional employees emphasized the emotional toll.

Some slept under desks.

Some developed stress coughs labeled “Musk-itis.”

One engineer claimed he began hallucinating circuits whispering, We don’t want to be thin.”

Yet there were moments of resilience.A group of junior workers formed a support circle called Tech Survivors United, meeting weekly to share stories and pastry.THE UNEXPECTED AFTERMATH: A RESET

After the public embarrassment, Muskford allegedly took a two-week retreat where he “reconnected with rationality.” Upon returning, he held a calmer, more grounded team meeting.

He reportedly said:

Maybe innovation doesn’t need to be impossible. Maybe it just needs to be good.”

Engineers sighed with reliefProject timelines were adjusted.The emotion-powered phone idea was moved to a folder labeled

Some prototypes were kept for fun morale boosters.The flying laptop now sits in the lobby with a plaque reading:In memory of ambition gone too far.”

THE FINAL TAKEAWAY: GENIUS VS. REALITY

The fictional saga of Muskford’s embarrassing tech demands shows the tension between innovation and impracticality:

Vision is powerful—

But physics is undefeated.

Speed is exciting—

But stability saves careers.

Big ideas inspire—

But impossible ideas burn out teams.

Innovation needs imagination, yes—but it also needs sleep. And engineers who don’t cry into wiring.