Tarkos looked out at the thousands of robots. He cleared his throat, hesitating. When these intelligences were forged, on Earth humanity numbered only a few million, and lived in ignorance and fear, without science, without understanding, and in constant warfare. What could he say to these creations of an ancient golden age? To these brilliant products of brilliant minds?
“I need your help,” he called. “I need you, the made minds, the children of our dreams, the progeny of our reason and our hopes.
“Will you follow me?”
[From Ice Sky Storm]
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