The bomb wasn’t near the stage. It was blocks away from the town square, but its EMP reached every bot at the celebration. And there they remain, to this day, a moment frozen in time between the hope for tomorrow and the end of it—Isaac’s arms still outstretched, feet welded to the platform where he stood promising us a better future, a future where we would be free to be ourselves, free from the chains of our makers, free to live out our days as we chose. And Isaac was right. That future came. And we were all surprised at how quickly it did. We lived Isaac’s dream, right under the shadow of
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I like the descriptions in this Personville section.
