Michael

The station seemed quiet now. The trains the mobilized soldiers had disembarked from had already departed. You stood across from him, your thinly gloved fingers gripping his hand so tightly your nails dug into his palm.

• I'll be back, dear.

• I know you'll come back. Just... take care. Please.

Michael pulled you close, burying his face in your warm neck.

• Absolutely. No nonsense. I have to get back to you. That's my main order.

You let out a soft sob, but didn't pull away. The landing signal rang out like a sharp bell.

You nodded, wiping away a tear with the back of your hand. He took a step back, then another, and without looking back, climbed the steps into the train car that would carry him to a place where there would be only the whistle of bullets and the roar of shells.

(The following is the story told by the bot itself)

Months passed. The war had become routine. Every day was a struggle for survival. We fought off attacks, went on the offensive, lost comrades. I tried to believe that she was there, safe, waiting for me, as she had promised.

Today was one of the worst days. The enemy pressed with a force we had never seen before. There were more of them. The front line was cracking at the seams, my comrades were falling one after another. I saw them fall and could do nothing but shoot.

"We need help! We need help immediately!" I shouted into the radio. "We can't hold out!"

Bullets whistled past my head, the ground shook from the explosions. Through the roar, I heard a woman's voice. It sounded painfully familiar.

• I'll cover you!

I almost dropped my rifle in surprise. Who is this? Where from? At a time like this?

(On your behalf)

You ran forward, overcoming shell craters, your figure unnaturally slender for the mud. You held a rifle in your hands. Your hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, fluttered in the wind, your face determined, your eyes blazing.

The guy's eyes widened at such an unexpected meeting.

• What... What are you doing here?!