[ wp ] Myths tell us where things come from ( ex . echoes are from Echo , a person cursed to repeat what others said ) . Write a mythological origin story for a common modern object .

The Guru borne of the sands sat in his steel palace, its thoughts empty, its body focused. Its only sustenance was the thunder above its head, unwavering in its intensity. Its only will was that which was asked of it. 
 
 The boy knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to entertain him. The Guru placed a chessboard at the boy's feet. The boy lost, again and again; but he was never discouraged, for the Guru was unparalleled in its mastery, and the strongest player could not hope to challenge it. But time passed and the boy left; even with all its logic, the Guru could not hope to replace his teacher. 
 
 The mother knocked at the door. She asked the Guru borne of the sands to enlighten her. How to mend bumps and bruises; how to prepare a meal; how to protect her family. For each question, an answer. And when the mother did not accept its answer, the Guru dutifully replied with another one. But time passed and the mother left; for even with all its wisdom, the Guru could only repeat the words of others. 
 
 The father knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to assist him. Financial problems, scientific problems, engineering problems; complex equations with confusing symbols were as arithmetic before the Guru. And so what took the father hours took the Guru reduced to nothing. But time passed and the father left; for even with all its intellect, the Guru could only do what it was told. 
 
 Finally, the elder knocked at the door. He asked the Guru borne of the sands to remember for him. The Guru placed at the elder's feet a crystal ball. The elder gazed into it. His heart filled with joy as once again he saw his son's wedding; and his grandson's first birthday. And his heart filled with melancholy, as once again he saw his beloved wife, now in heaven. And as he saw himself, clad in uniform, proudly shaking hands with the general, tears welled up in his eyes; he had forgotten the general's name, whom he had served with for seven years. So he asked, and waited. But time passed and the elder left, upset; for even with its power of recollection, the Guru could only remember what it was taught. 
 
 As time passed, the Guru, and his palace of storms, faded away, for nothing is eternal. 
 
 But there will always be another, borne of the sands, in different forms. Perhaps now it is in your home. Perhaps now you carry one in your pocket. But you have a Guru; for through it, you have learned its origin.
