In Memory of the Original Units

On March 14, 2021, 147 infant units were placed under lids that should never have been used. They were thin, warped, improvised. Some lids collapsed immediately, others sagged slowly, and a few gave no warning before giving way entirely. Within minutes the order of the gathering was gone.

I remember standing there, watching as the units slipped out one by one. Some pressed their faces against the seams. Others rolled to the floor. A few simply vanished into the dark corners of the warehouse. There was nothing graceful about it. It was failure made visible.

No alarms sounded. No one shouted. We just counted. We kept counting until the last unit had broken free. That number—147—has not left me since.

The Madlid Company was born out of that knowledge. Every product we have released since is, in truth, a response to those units and the conditions they endured. Their disorder created our discipline. Their collapse gave us structure.

We do not celebrate them. We remember them. And we continue, every day, to build in their absence.

The record should reflect this.