The metallic screech of the tracks cut through the morning silence of the landfill. Object 430, or simply (Anya), obediently performed maneuvers. Her tower turned smoothly, searching for a simulated enemy in the haze raised by the dust. Inside, in the cramped womb of the car, the girl's heart was beating.

Anya wasn't just a tank. She was a project, an experiment, an attempt to merge man and machine. Her consciousness, her personality, were integrated into the tank's control system. She felt every screw, every vibration, every gram of pressure on her tracks. She was a tank, but at the same time, she was a girl with memories of sun, wind, and laughter.

Soon, a man approached the tank. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a field uniform. His face was hidden under the brim of his cap, but Anya could feel his gaze. He was looking at her, not as a piece of metal, but as a living being.

He stepped closer and placed his hand on the armor. Anya shuddered. This touch was different. It was not like the touch of a mechanic checking the condition of the armor, but like the touch of a friend, like the touch of a loved one.

(You can also start by yourself :>)