Computers sort of came around through games and toys. And you

In the thoughtful and almost playful words of Rodney Brooks, a pioneer of robotics and artificial intelligence, we find a revelation about the unexpected origins of innovation: “Computers sort of came around through games and toys. And you know, the first computer most people had in the house may have been a computer to play 'Pong,' a little microprocessor embedded, and then other games that came after that.” Beneath these simple words lies a profound truth about human creativity — that great revolutions often begin in play, and that the tools which now shape civilizations were once born from curiosity, delight, and the innocence of fun. Brooks reminds us that progress, though it may lead to mighty discoveries, often begins not in the solemn halls of laboratories, but in the laughter of experimentation — in the games that awaken imagination.

The origin of this quote rests in Brooks’s reflections on the history of personal computing — that remarkable transformation of technology from a rare and academic tool into a household companion. In the 1970s, computers were colossal machines, reserved for scientists, engineers, and government research. But then came the humble game — “Pong,” a simple electronic tennis match of bouncing light on a screen. With it arrived a revolution: small microprocessors, affordable and compact, entered homes for the first time. Families gathered around television screens not for news or theater, but to interact — to play. In that play, a generation learned to trust machines, to explore their logic, to stretch their potential. It was not science alone that humanized computing; it was games — the language of joy, challenge, and discovery.

Brooks, as a builder of robots and thinker of the human mind, knew well that our greatest leaps forward do not come from rigid pursuit, but from wonder. He saw that the path from “Pong” to modern computation mirrors the story of all human progress — where the tools of leisure become the engines of transformation. The same hands that once built toys now design spacecraft; the same minds that once sought amusement now train artificial intelligence to perceive and learn. In this, he teaches us that there is no boundary between play and creation. What begins as curiosity may grow into mastery. What amuses a child may one day empower a civilization.

This truth echoes across history. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, whose notebooks are filled not only with inventions of war and science, but with sketches of toys, puzzles, and mechanical curiosities. In his time, these seemed trivial diversions; yet in them, he studied the movement of gears, the balance of flight, and the mechanics of nature. From such “play,” he laid the foundations of the future. Or recall the story of the Wright brothers, who first experimented with kites and gliders — toys of the wind — before giving humanity the gift of flight. So too did the early tinkerers of the digital age, playing with circuits and sprites, unknowingly lay the foundation for the interconnected world we live in today. In every age, play has been the seed of innovation, the fire that ignites the engine of progress.

Yet Brooks’s words carry another wisdom — a reminder not to despise simplicity, nor to overlook the small beginnings of greatness. In his reflection, “Pong” is more than a game; it is a symbol of how humanity learns. The earliest home computers were not born from necessity, but from the desire to engage, to experience. And in that engagement, humans began to build a relationship with technology that transformed the very fabric of society. From those blinking pixels came the coders, designers, and dreamers who would shape the world to come. Thus, Brooks’s observation reveals a deeper pattern of creation: before the tool serves the world, it must first capture the heart.

There is a sacred irony in this — that the machine, so often seen as cold and mechanical, first entered the human home as an instrument of joy. In this sense, Brooks’s words speak not only of technology, but of human nature itself. We do not seek knowledge for its own sake, but because it delights us to explore, to make, to understand. The first step toward mastery is not duty, but curiosity; not obligation, but play. Thus, every invention, every art, every new horizon of discovery, begins with a childlike spark — the same spark that drew early humans to paint on cave walls, that drew sailors to cross unknown seas, and that drew programmers to bring the first flicker of light to life on a television screen.

The lesson, then, is this: never dismiss the small, the simple, or the playful, for in them lies the seed of transformation. Play is not the opposite of purpose — it is its origin. The games we play, the experiments we tinker with, the questions we ask in moments of idle wonder — these are the beginnings of the world’s next miracles. Do not fear to engage with joy, for joy sharpens the mind and opens the imagination far more than fear or duty ever could. Like those who played with “Pong” and unknowingly birthed the age of computation, so too can every act of curiosity become an act of creation.

So, children of both the analog past and the digital dawn, heed the wisdom of Rodney Brooks. Embrace your tools, but never lose your wonder. Let your work be as play, and your play be as discovery. For the future is not forged in boredom or burden — it is born from the spark of delight. As the ancients once shaped their myths from firelight, and the inventors of the modern age shaped theirs from glowing screens, so too must we carry forward the spirit of play — not as distraction, but as creation itself.