The robot comes across the dead man under the tree, triggers pictures of human anatomy
like a penny arcade flappity-flapping, this is a broken human, it thinks, it knows
about the thousands of miles of intestines and veins inside the corpse
compares them to its own repair schematics, wonders if it can put the man together
make a friend out of this dead body, someone to keep it company as it wanders aimlessly
looking for things to do, some kind of purpose.

The penny arcade of anatomy continues to flappity-flap inside the robot as it
spot-solders bone to muscle to vein, cuts and removes excess intestine
takes out a couple of organs that don’t seem particularly necessary, sets all the extras
in a pile behind it. A couple of bony crows, attracted earlier by the scent of death
land a few meters from the rescue mission, hop purposefully in little bumps
through the tall grass, draw closer to the growing pile
of severed muscle and vein and soft tissue, mindful of the thin, twisting plumes of smoke
the whirring of occupied gears.

Finally, the robot backs away from the refurbished man
who now looks nothing like a man at all. The robot has followed its own schematics
adapted them to the corpse, which is really no good at all
because veins are not conduits of electricity, you can’t jump-start
a dead and dry heart, a desiccated brain. But time means nothing
to the robots that have outlasted us, after all, the robot feels neither
disappointment at a day wasted, nor anger at its hopes for companionship thwarted.
A crow lands on the robot’s handiwork, says, “Hello!” to the robot, “Hello! Hello!”
exudes true gratitude for this unexpected feast and in the end,
this is all the affirmation the robot ever wanted anyway.