The old archivist, Dr. Aris Thorne, felt a jolt of audacious heresy as he slid the glossy print into the maw of the machine. It was a photograph that had become a part of the national bloodstream, an image of pure, unthinking ecstasy at the end of a long and brutal war. He had chosen Alfred Eisenstaedt's "V-J Day in Times Square" for its raw, kinetic power, a sailor dipping a nurse in a spontaneous, jubilant kiss, a sliver of peace captured forever. The AI, which he had nicknamed ‘Clio’ after the muse of history, whirred to life. Its function was straightforward, yet revolutionary: to take the static past and give it the breath of motion. On the large monitor, the image flickered, and then, impossibly, it began to live.