Three months later, the plaza in front of the United Nations looked almost normal. Almost.
The manicured grass was green again. The flags of member states snapped in the crisp October breeze. The crowds gathered behind security barriers held signs, but they weren't the same signs. "ONE EARTH, MANY VOICES" read one. "THE FUTURE IS HYBRID" proclaimed another, held aloft by a young woman with faint scales shimmering on her temples. Next to her, an older man in a veterans' cap held a simpler sign: "JUST LET US LIVE."
The mood was a fragile, cautious optimism. The memory of the frozen warheads and the silent, dissolving apocalypse was still fresh, a psychic scar on the species. But the sun was shining, and for the first time in living memory, no one was actively trying to kill their neighbor over what they were. That counted for something.
