my final message (goodbye)

Pneuma didn't know the outcome of her final gambit when she played it. She certainly hadn't known it as the clap of two hands, one gloved and one jointed with gaskets and pistons, echoed through a technological wasteland covered in interstate signs and rubble disguised as something precious.

Was that all Poppi was made for? Explosions, and a tail-wagging frock-wearing bark-speaking happy dance?

Poppi was there to protect them, and to cheer them all up, true, but more than that, she was here to learn.

To learn to speak. To learn to love. To foster hope and harmony.

To live.