When it happened, there was no explosion.

There were no fireworks. There were no bullets. There were no riotous hordes of insurgents. There were no bombs, nor were there grenades. Atomic power lay undisturbed; spears and cannons gathered dust and rusted.

There was no obvious war. It had been a summer day, like any other.

And then everything just stopped working.

The air was thick with the acrid stench of ozone. Thousands died on roads, on roller coasters, and on operating tables. Television sets and telephones no longer worked. Computers caught fire. It was the end of many lives, many eras, and many things, but it also was the hallmark of the cessation of one important thing.

It was the end of cyberpunk.