They tried. He had to give them that. The expense of it all boggled his mind. And all based on a photo, the shot Bette had taken from the back porch of the farmhouse. The barn seemed to be made from some sort of molded plastic, the grass some sort of astroturf. There was even a windmill, though it didn’t turn. The robot animals milled around, clearly following a course of programmed waypoints. The whole customized environment was protected from the boiling poisonous soup of an atmosphere by a transparent dome. It was reassuring, that they had at least tried.
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Title by: Stef
Story by: David
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