If anyone ever doubts that we lack humanity, then I’ll point them to space. I’ll tell them about how we named a little robot Opportunity, how we sent her to space with a name that echoed amongst the stars and served as a monument to what we humans thought was important.
I’ll tell them about how we programmed this robot to sing happy birthday to herself every year, and how in response, millions sang back.
I’ll tell them about how we saw the beauty and heartache in the dying message of a robot. How we hoped and prayed that she knew we were proud of her. That she had done so well. That we loved her.
I’ll tell them about how art was made and tears were shed in the mourning of little Opportunity. Of a little robot who made it 15 years when she was only supposed to make it 90 days.
I’ll tell them about how one robot encapsulated humanity’s ability to look at something and love it so endlessly that we gave it a name, we celebrated its achievements and mourned its death.
