H.C. Andersen’s tale ‘The Nightingale’ tells Us of an Emperor who replaces a plain little singing bird with a techno-bird, radiant in gems. The Nightingale flies away. In time, the Machine breaks, and in mourning for song, the Emperor pines. But the Nightingale returns, and the soul-beauty of its song turns Death from the Emperor’s door.
What’s not to like about this?