Thousands dead. Entire cities destroyed.
In the cyberpunk fiction of my youth and young adulthood, disasters like this were often part of the background of the world. A character would claim a false identity of a person from a town lost to the rising ocean. Or a person would have a missing relative, vanished in a hurricane, only to reappear when the plot required.
There are days I love living in the future. Days when the reach and promise, the grasping hope of humanity fill me with joy and confidence.
I never wanted to live in a cyberpunk world.
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