To MEC the world was nothing but windows. Well, windows and the dim interior of Dr. Weeks’ laboratory.

 

Bleached white walls and fluorescent lights comprised almost ninety-nine percent of MEC’s memory storage chip, but the other one percent was reserved for the windows.

 

Unbeknownst to its creator, Mechanical Entity Contingent on Plant-life model 3.0 (or MEC as it had been coined by Dr. Weeks' eight-year-old daughter Elly) did not always enter hibernation mode when instructed to.

 

Every second Thursday of the month, when the Doctor went into town to collect algae samples, MEC feigned hibernation by turning off its light and retracting its outer panels, only to reassemble a half hour later fully extended and hyper-aware.

Reaching the windowsill had been a challenge at first, but with practice, MEC had mastered the art of wrapping its vine-like extensions around the base of the lamp and rolling up the side wall on its lower wheel. The exercise still jumbled its inner circuitry and wiring quite uncomfortably, but it was all worth it when MEC caught a glimpse of the view.

 

Fading sunlight danced across the dappled leaves of the juniper tree outside the window. Cradled in its topmost branches was a small, neatly woven bird's nest.

 

The contents of the nest varied from season to season. As it was now spring and the second moon had risen in the east, the nest cradled two opalescent spheres that housed future nestlings. The mother bird perched atop her eggs in anticipation of their hatching. She cooed soft tones to her little ones, who absorbed her sweet tunes even within their incubation period.

 

Spring was MEC’s favorite season to observe. It was especially intrigued by the moment in which the nestlings emerged from their confinement. The mother bird's expression was always one of wonder and she would puff her chest out in pride as her sweet offspring viewed the world for the first time.

 

MEC wondered if Dr. Weeks had worn a similar expression upon its own awakening. When the last circuits were forged together and the final panel secured by root and screw. Try as it might MEC could not picture such a reaction on its creator's face.

 

Dr. Weeks’s features knew only disapproval, intrigue, and madness. Never wonder.

 

MEC stared on at the nest and its occupants. The mother bird was snuggled in the center, drawing in straw and twigs from the sides of the nest to further support her dormant younglings. Again, she sang out her sweet tune.

 

MEC’s neck swiveled slightly at a surprise variation in the second stanza of her song which almost bore a warning of a sort. Her usual soft comforting tones sharpened into something cold and apprehensive.

 

MEC switched on its hypersensors to screen for threats to the nest’s occupants. Its left scanner reported nothing but the evidence of small burrowing rodents in the grounds nearby. Surely that wasn’t anything to be alarmed by. The right scanner also came up empty except for the heat signatures of rudimentary wildlife. No threat located.

 

Switching off its sensors, MEC turned its lens once again to the mother bird. If the warning was not for her unborn younglings, who was it for?

 

The realization hit MEC harder than a 64-gigabyte data download. The warning was for MEC.

 

MEC did not even have time to process the second, larger heat signature that popped up on its scanners before it became aware of its mainframe involuntarily shutting down as Dr. Weeks yanked out its power leads from behind.

 

The damage was irreparable. Once MEC’s mainframe completely powered down, Mechanical Entity Contingent on Plant-life model 3.0 would be lost forever, likely to be promptly replaced by model 4.0.

 

Rapidly losing visual, with its last moments of perception, MEC turned its sensors again to the window and the blossoming bird family just outside it.

 

In its final moment, MEC saw neither Dr. Weeks, nor the window, nor the mother bird. Its camera lens zoomed in, ever so briefly, upon the indescribable image of hope.