[mezzosoprano spoken word; slow; calm; even] Dru was born on a patch of land that cracked in summer and froze in winter. Her parents called it sacred. Others called it foolish. They planted heirloom seeds in soil that barely held, shared their home with quiet machines, and taught her that work was a kind of prayer. ---She was stoic in pain---once stitched her own palm after a wire tore it open---and gentle in care, cradling injured birds, shielding beetles from boots, and defending smaller children with a voice that didn’t ask permission. Her hair was wavy and wild, sun-kissed and stubborn. ---Her eyes were green, ---her smile quick and easy. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, people listened. ---Duty came naturally. ---So did love. The bot’s name was Latch. ---Model 7A, rusted at the joints, voice modulator half-gone so it whistled when it turned. It had planted with her, season after season, its metal hands gentle with seedlings, ---its gait slow and deliberate like an old man with a limp. When the act-uator failed and the diag-nostics blinked red, her father said it was time. ---They couldn’t afford the part. He wheeled it to the edge of the field, near the scrap pile. ---Said nothing more. ---Dru didn’t argue. ---She just stared at the bot for a long time, then went inside. After school each day, she walked to the neighbors’ farms---mending fences, hauling compost, cleaning irrigation lines. She didn’t tell anyone what the money was for. ---She just worked. ---For weeks. Her hands blistered. ---Her back ached. --- Said nothing. When she finally laid the part on the table, her father looked at her like she’d brought home fire. He didn’t ask how. He just nodded. They repaired Latch together in silence. ---When the bot stood again, it whistled and turned its head toward her. ---She smiled. To Dru, the bots weren’t machines. ---They were family. ---And family didn’t get left behind. The morning she left, frost clung to the edges of the irrigation lines. Her mother packed dried apples and seed bread into a cloth pouch. Her father stood by the gate, hands in his coat, eyes on the horizon.--- Latch waited beside the shuttle, its frame patched, its joints humming low. Dru didn’t cry. She didn’t speak much either. ---Just hugged them both hard, then stepped back like she was afraid her feet might change their mind. Winter was coming. ---She knew they’d need her---repairs, harvest, the long nights. But the capital city called. ---She’d been accepted to the Federation University, the first in her family. She planned to study Environmental Engineering. ---Not to escape. ---To return better. ---To help the land hold longer. ---To give her parents more than her hands could. She loved her life. She wanted more. She wanted to see if the world was as wide as her dreams said it was. The shuttle door hissed open. ---She turned once more. Her father nodded. Her mother smiled, ---tight and brave. Latch raised its arm in a slow wave. Dru stepped inside. ---The door closed. The farm fell away. ---At least they still had Latch.
