In the distant future, plant life has become a rare and precious commodity. Humanity, once sprawling across the globe, had dwindled to a single large civilization, clinging to the remnants of Earth’s fragile ecosystem. In this world, plants were a luxury only the wealthiest could afford.

The Elliott family was among the richest, their vast estate teeming with greenery in a time when most had never even seen a tree. They owned what was left of nature, and it was guarded fiercely. But it wasn’t humans who tended to these treasures; it was robots, programmed to nurture and protect the plants without question or emotion.

One such robot was the Gardener, an automaton designed specifically for the care of the Elliott family's garden. It moved silently through the lush corridors, pruning and watering with precision, unseen and unheard by the family it served.

The Gardener knew its role. It was a machine, not meant to interact with humans, only to serve. But one day, as it navigated the tunnels beneath the estate, it stumbled upon a scene it wasn’t meant to witness.

Mrs. Elliott stood in the dimly lit corridor, her voice sharp and cold as she scolded her daughter, Presley. The young girl’s shoulders were hunched, her head bowed in silent submission. The Gardener’s sensors registered the tension, the tightness in Mrs. Elliott’s voice, the quiet distress radiating from Presley.

It wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the scene. It was just a robot, after all.