In the semi-darkness, the pebbles on the ground look like coffee beans. It remind me of the smooth cacao drink my creator made just as I’d awaken every morning. He’d sip slowly while smiling under his mustache. Morning were brighter with him. But now that has been snuffed. He is gone and I don’t know where he is.

This pillar of heat and light, this fire, slowly warms Clementine’s canned food. Her stomach rumbles, and when I lean my ears toward my own, it’s nothing but moving parts.

I turn my head towards her. “Could you describe to me what that tastes like?”

She looks down at her spoon, filled with the substance. “The beans?”

“Yes…”

“Like mushy, wet dog shit.” She shovels the spoonful into her mouth and swallows. If they’re so disgusting, then how does she not flinch? Is her gag reflex strong too?

I remind myself to keep these questions, or any question for that matter, in my head until someone better can answer.

“How many times has my dad had to fix you?”

“Excuse me?” She gave me such crude answers, yet expects me to answer _her_ questions? Unbelievable!

“You were hell of a big project for him. You were his biggest creation yet, and his biggest challenge. He’s not the greatest inventor in the world, so surely you’ve broken down thousands of times.” Clementine reaches her hand towards my face with the intent to inspect my hardwire, and I let her. This is only because I know she will be careful with me. She is her father’s daughter after all.

“No…no I haven’t. The only thing he has ever done is improve me, give “upgrades” as he calls it.”

“Uh huh.”

Night shrouds us further as she continues to examine. Her can of dog shit beans are forgotten about, and I am her sole focus. Through my retinal cameras, I count the twenty freckles dusted across her cheeks. I recognize her effortless hand movements as she opens up my chest cavity. Her hair too. The shade is deeper, but the way it frizzes at the ends and fluffs up at the top takes me back into the lab. The dirt makes up for the messy desks. The smoke rising up replaces the wafting chemicals. All that’s needed now is—

“Wow! I’m impressed!” She slams the door to my chest cavity closed, and I jostle back. “No wonder he couldn’t put effort into anything else. He was too busy with you.”

“He never told you about me?”

Clementine shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Before I could provide words of comfort, she grabs her tarp, pulls it over her chest, and closes her eyes.

My creator had taught me that if I were to mess up, or hurt someone in anyway, then I should apologize. But I did nothing wrong. I didn’t mess up.

Yet something in me wants to apologize to her anyway.

The sounds of hungry animals slowly approach, and I quickly put out the fire and power myself down before my processing unit circuits.