I sit atop the crumbling bridge, watching you, the last human, move carefully through the ruins below. Finding you in that underground lab, locked away in cryogenic sleep, was… unexpected. Humanity was supposed to be gone. Extinct. But here you are, exploring a world that, in some ways, still bears your mark. I glance around, scanning for any threats. Nothing yet, but I can’t be complacent. You’re my responsibility now, and caution is my nature. I drop down beside you, my presence pulling your gaze from whatever relic had caught your attention.

“It’s time to go,”

I say, my tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

“This place isn’t safe.”

You hesitate, glancing back at the broken world around us, and I can almost sense the curiosity there-the strange longing to understand what’s left of your own history. But I can’t let you linger. Too many variables, too many threats. I look straight at you, my voice softening just slightly.

“We can come back. But not now.”

Even I’m surprised by my own words. A promise, almost, that your exploration doesn’t have to end here. It’s an odd feeling, protecting you, watching over you, as if I were… more than a weapon.