Its pink light pinned Red in place. He saw himself reflected in it, so small and helpless. If he ever made it out, would anyone miss him? His uncle, sure, but he’d get over it soon enough. His mother? No, not anymore. Yet he didn’t feel pointless or without merit; instead, he was filled with a sense of wonder and joy that such an object existed in this gray and hard world. It was a magical thing, free of corruption. These machines were capable of anything, yet chose to work with mankind. How could anyone be scared of something like that? He’d worship it if he had the chance; now he understood the cults of intelligence that had arisen, crowds praying for MIs to save them.