I remembered the way it had bolted out of the bushes earlier. Was this the same deer? I could not be certain. But the sudden burst of sound had obviously caught the attention of the Hunter-Bots. All at once, they set into motion. A mayhem of clicking claws. All headed in the same direction. Away from our van. Toward the animal in the bushes.

I did not know how long the HunterBots would be gone, and I did not wish to find out. Poking my head out of the van, I scanned our surroundings. No sign of any other robots.

As quietly as possible, our group exited the van.

I knew which way the HunterBots had gone. I led our group in the opposite direction. Into the cluster of trees that stretched along the side of the highway.

For now—at least—I was not thinking about where we were going. I had only one destination in mind.

Away/Away/Away.

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Everything was green. As if the color settings in my visual ports had malfunctioned, painting the world a thousand different shades of the same color.

The deep jade of vines twisted around the trunks of trees and dangled from above.

The lime-tinted glow of sunlight pressed against the leaves overhead, trying to peek down at us.

The rich emerald of moss clung to everything. To the ground. To the stones. To the trunks of trees.

Even the air seemed to wear the color green.

It was everywhere.

We traveled several kilometers through the forest, listening closely for the sounds of HunterBots, until we were certain there were no other robots around. Only then did Emma climb out of Ceeron’s backpack.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“We are getting close,” I said.

We stumbled through the forest. Ducking under vines, stepping over fallen trees, tripping over the twisted fingers of roots.

A sharp branch snagged the bottom of my flower-print shirt. As I untangled myself, I wondered why I was still wearing this outfit. This silly shirt and hat.

Then a memory lit up my mental circuitry.

Day[1]. Looking out at the ruins of humanity.

Why is all this still here? I had asked. Why not bulldoze these structures? They serve no purpose.

The voice of Parent_1 echoed in my memory drive. They are a reminder.

The memory ended, leaving something else in its place. A theory. Perhaps this shirt served a similar purpose. It was a reminder.

Soon we would arrive at Emma’s destination. I did not know what we would discover there, but I had done the math, and the probabilities all pointed to the same result.

We would never see each other again.

If this was the case, then at least I would have a souvenir of our brief/unexpected/strange/distressing/stimulating time together. At least I would have this silly shirt and hat. At least I would have a reminder.

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