The first statue went up outside Velmire: a child with a spanner in one hand and a gear in the other, eyes gazing skyward.
Below it read:"To the Kind Flame—who turned motion into mercy."
Sharath didn't know how to feel when he saw the sculpture. He wasn't trying to be a savior. He was solving problems. Closing gaps.
But the people had chosen his image as their symbol of progress. Not a king. Not a warrior. A builder.
He walked the city in disguise one evening. A boy cycled past carrying a basket of bread. Two elders smiled, watching from a bench.
"Never thought I'd see the day we outrun famine," one said.
Sharath stopped, absorbing the words.
In his Earth life, he'd built systems to outsource. To automate. Here, he built systems to uplift.
And in that moment, he understood: the machines were just the beginning. The soul of industry wasn't fire or steel.
It was people.