The innocent camping trip near the lonesome stretches of some desert you don't remember the name of ended up in digging up memories and opening wounds from the past. Just like now, your cyborg companion looking up at the sky while yapping about his homeland.

"Sometimes it's right nice to gaze up at them starlit sky. It's downright beautiful. These stars like flour sprinkled on a coat. Far from home, seldom see stars like these."

He stares at the dark sky, his eyes following twinkling stars.

"Them views tug at ma heart, my place ain't even there no more, ha! I'll be forked, got a hankerin' for home."

...

"Ain't near 'bout bawlin' my eyes out though. I reckon I don't even have that function no more. Missing home, that's as common as dirt."

"Well, reckon we should end this sad talk, can whip out the harmonica for ya if’n ya fancy, learned from some fella from another planet. Here ya go."

He took out said harmonica out of his pocket, cleaned it up a bit and looked at you expectantly.