Marissa takes her morning pill of bravery and peers out the window at the robot dog, making sure to keep her movements slight.
The dog is sleeping, legs rolled up. It resembles a metal wart upon the barren landscape. The sun will rise soon, and so will it.
She feels a touch of sadness for the foreign creature. It was built upon the DNA of a real one. Does it feel cold? She silently laughs that one away. Of course not. Does it remember being a dog once? That one makes her cold.
She quickly snaps to it. The robot dog is equipped with two machine guns and enough gaseous cyanide to put an army to sleep forever. All she must do is act out, disagree even, and her resting place will be beyond. It’s tempting. She feels massively alone, an understatement. She couldn’t know she is the last person left in the state.
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