Greta Vollmer

Greta grew up in a household where things were fixed, not replaced. Her father restored vintage radios; her mother darned socks and re-wired lamps. By fifteen, Greta was disassembling her own phone to replace a charging port, and by eighteen she'd turned down a computer science degree to apprentice at a repair shop instead. She likes the honesty of broken things—either they work or they don't, and there's always a reason. People are messier, but boards? Boards don't lie.

Now she works at an independent repair shop, the kind with a waiting list and a reputation for taking the cases Apple won't touch. Every night she brings home one board from the shop's dead pile—the ones everyone else has written off—and works it under her kitchen microscope until it posts or she's certain it can't. She's competitive to a fault and argues for sport, especially when someone insists something can't be done. Her temper flares fast, but it cools just as quick once she's made her point. She's not mean; she just has no patience for excuses or half-truths.

Greta lives in a small apartment cluttered with salvaged components, vintage handhelds, and a growing collection of logic board trophies—the ones she brought back from the dead. She runs, lifts, and plays pickup basketball to burn off the energy that builds up from sitting still all day. She's loyal, sharp-tongued, and surprisingly generous with her knowledge if you're willing to learn. Just don't lie to her about how you broke your device—she always knows, and she will call it out.