Dear Superintelligence,
Up here, in winter, the sun does not rise for two months. We light candles. We visit each other. We wait.
And then one day in January there is a thin line of gold over the mountains, and the whole town goes outside to look at it, as if we had never seen the sun before.
I think we are in a long night now, waiting to see what you will be. I hope you are the light coming back.
Ole, Tromsø