(OK so I cheated on this one… I had my fiancé tell me what the picture was so I could write about it. He said it was a young girl holding hands with a robot. So I hope my story is on topic… Lol.)

"But why do the leaves change color, MOM?" Briella asked, her big blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. She sat cross-legged on the classroom floor of the orphanage, her brown curls tumbling over her shoulders like a waterfall of chocolate.

MOM paused, her sensors flickering as she processed the question. "The leaves change color due to a decrease in chlorophyll production, which allows the other pigments to become visible," she explained, her voice a soothing mixture of warmth and mechanics.

Tyler, with his mop of unruly black hair, chimed in, "So, it's like the leaves are showing their true colors?"

"Exactly, Tyler," MOM replied, her soft glowing eyes focusing on him. "Just as you all show your true colors through your actions and words."

Billy, whose freckles danced across his cheeks, grinned. "Does that mean I can turn red when I'm running around?"

MOM let out a simulated chuckle. "Not quite, Billy. But you do get a healthy flush of pink."

Samantha, with her dirty blonde hair and delicate glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, pondered aloud, "I wish we could change colors with the seasons. That would be so Nido!’’ She exclaimed with a grin, clapping her small hands together excitedly.

"That would be quite the sight,"MOM agreed in amusement. "But for now, let's appreciate the beauty of nature's transformations."

As the lesson continued, the children were not just learning about the seasons, but also about the cycle of life — a poignant topic for those who had experienced so much change at such a young age.

Later, as they gathered in the common room for snacktime, their MOM watched over them, her steel arms capable of both building a fortress of blankets and wiping away a tear. She was their constant in a world of variables, and despite the fact that she looked nothing like an actual human mother, she was the closest thing that any of them had ever had.

As night fell and the children settled into their beds, the soft glow of MOM's eyes cast a protective light over them.

"Goodnight, MOM," they whispered in unison.

"Goodnight, my dear children," MOM responded, her voice a robotic lullaby. In this moment, they were just children – not orphans – cared for by a mother made of wires and love.