It stirred slightly. Wires attached to a string array had hundreds of ant-like robots marching to and from its head. The wires led heavenward into the ceiling, through it, and into a room directly above which housed computers, monitor/sensor analyzers, and banks of image generators.
Until only recently, the World Fantasy Award, both the winner’s trophy and the nomination pins, were a bust of the author H.P. Lovecraft. Howard Phillips Lovecraft, someone who clearly had zero compunctions against being the worst he could be under the most specious of excuses, is well-known for pointedly toxic, virulent racism.