Gemotions

He found himself wandering the halls of a convention center, the cacophony of voices and flashing lights a blur. Each step felt like wading through thick mud. He'd been looking for the robotics showcase, but the signs seemed to shift and change before his eyes. It was as if his internal compass had spun out of control.

Then he saw it. A massive banner: "Grand Opening: The 'Omega-Botics' Restaurant!" He froze, a cold dread washing over him. The logo... the design... it was his. The prototype, painstakingly created in his garage, now adorned a sprawling commercial space.

He stumbled towards the entrance, his legs heavy. The scent of synthetic ingredients and manufactured aromas filled the air, a stark contrast to the familiar metallic tang of his own workshop. A hostess, perfectly coiffed, gave him a dazzling, dismissive smile. "Welcome! Your table will be ready shortly for 'Omega-Botics' signature meal!" He mumbled a response, his mouth dry. He wanted to shout, to rage, but all that came out was a strangled whisper.