One hundred years after the outbreak of nuclear war, the earth gasped in radiation and silence. The bionic robot Faith woke up from the rusted cabin, and the chip in his chest was engraved with the only instruction: to walk through the wasteland and collect key materials to restart civilization.
The metal soles of his feet ran over the cracked concrete, and the optical lenses in his eyes recorded the contradictory world - on the scorched earth of the radiation zone, purple vines were devouring the rusted missile remains; in the dry ocean bed, the glass curtain wall reflected the deformed aurora; in the ruins of the former city, the fuzz of mutated dandelions was stained with the phosphorescence of human remains.
The program drove him toward the coordinates, but the scenes along the way kept tearing apart the logic of the code: he found an old model huddled in a bomb shelter, using faded picture books to teach robot children how to read; in the rain of radiation, he witnessed a herd of mutated deer crashing into rolling stones to protect their young; in the data debris, he read the last message left by pre-war humans - "We will eventually become nutrients for the earth."
When Faith's circuits began to get hot from self-thinking, when he realized that "restarting civilization" might be a more cruel reincarnation, the collected materials condensed into a star core in his body. In the end, he broke away from gravity and absorbed countless asteroids that threatened the earth into rings, turning them into eternal satellites. Where the moonlight shines, new ferns are wrapping around the rusty nuclear warhead and blooming with white flowers.
