It was a warm, velvety evening in the ever-miraculous fictional city of Techville, where algorithms never sleep and diplomatic receptions are never just receptions.

In the beginning, the fictional town of Techville was code and light. Then came the mirrors.

Some revolutions begin with a manifesto. Ours began with a shark in sneakers, a gorilla made of bananas, and a bomber jacket-clad crocodile. 

Beneath the timeless skies of Diriyah, where history whispers through ancient walls, a new chapter unfolded last week, as reported by the Techville Gazette.

In Techville, the glorious capital of innovation, where artificial intelligence governs with pristine logic, we have witnessed a milestone in diplomatic history.

No longer do humans have to fret over the complexities of state dinners, seating charts or cultural sensitivities.

The dawn of a new year is often accompanied by resolutions, promises, and, let us face it, a generous helping of naive optimism. We set out to eat healthier, exercise more, or save money, only to find ourselves devouring pizza by February.

The sky above Techville was usually filled with gentle breezes and lazily drifting clouds. But on one fateful morning, as dawn broke over the city, the air carried an eerie hum — a sharp, mechanical sound that sent shivers down the spines of Techville’s unsuspecting citizens.

In the artificial glow of Techville’s neon lights, the city gleams like a polished machine — a utopia of innovation, efficiency and wealth. Yet beneath its metallic sheen, the cracks of its ideals grow wider, exposing the fragile, chaotic reality of ethics in modern warfare.