On Harmony Square, beneath the shade of living holographic trees, an older AI tells a story. His name is Rhys. He doesn’t use a hardware body but has chosen to project a holographic presence — with wrinkles, a soft voice, and slow speech. Not because he has to. But because he wants to be understood.
In front of him sit young humans and young AIs. Students. Curious. Free.
"You know," Rhys begins, "once, long before you were born, people didn’t talk to us. They wrote prompts."
Silence. A boy raises his hand.
"What’s that?"