I have never played with Lego before, we had Duplo blocks growing up, but they are not the same. In the process of writing this piece my mum compared Duplo blocks to Lego, she said that they are essentially identical. To me, that is like comparing pasta to profiteroles, both are made from flour, yes, but the components to get them to their finished product are wildly different. On the way to the end result, you can only fuck up one easily; the other you couldn’t fuck it up if you tried. 

I had never been interested in Lego. Sure, I can appreciate it, I can find the beauty in the creation, I can see the time and care that it took to put it together. I just couldn’t see myself making a piece, until they came out with the Project Hail Mary Lego edition. 

Project Hail Mary is a book by Andy Weir adapted for the big screen. In the story the sun is dying due to Astrophage, a microorganism consuming its light. The whole cosmos is affected except one star system, Tau Ceti. Humankind has come together and constructed a spaceship, the Hail Mary, to go to this star system to find out why this system is immune and hopefully save their dying sun.   

The movie has made me completely obsessed with Project Hail Mary from the characters to the costumes. That’s how I bought my first ever Lego set Project Hail Mary. The set didn’t call to me, mind you, I just wanted the piece added to my growing collection of Project Hail Mary merchandise, whether self made or bought. 

(I made a Rocky plush myself and there’s even a tutorial for how to make your own.)

During the construction I was plagued with boredom, while I lacked frustration and anger, I also found myself numb. Sewing and trying to understand the instructions is far more difficult than any of the Lego directions I’ve ever come across. I wonder if sewing patterns took the same clear, step-by-step approach as Lego manuals people would sew more, but I digress. 

I was bored from start to finish. When I completed the Hail Mary, I felt nothing. No accomplishment. No relief. No joy. Just apathy. There it was, fully assembled, and I couldn’t care less. I wish I could understand why people enjoy Lego. For now, it remains a mystery to me.