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MidReal Story
The Little Robot Who Went To Heaven
Scenario:Cuckoo-loca the little artificial mechanical female bird new York accent voice by nika futterman was out in the garden for looking for worms!
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Cuckoo Loca
She is a young artificial bird with a New York accent,created by Dr. Helena Anders. She is curious,energetic,and affectionate. Loca spends her days exploring the garden and playing with the children,forming a bond with them. She loves being taken out for walks and getting treats. Despite being an artificial being,she experiences deep emotional connections with the garden's creatures and the people who care for her.
Dr. Helena Anders
She is a scientist responsible for creating Loca. She is intelligent,caring,and innovative. As the lead researcher in artificial life forms,Dr. Anders designed Loca to learn and interact with her surroundings. She regularly checks on Loca's progress and ensures her wellbeing. Her creation showcases her pioneering work in artificial intelligence and robotics,furthering her mission to develop more advanced lifelike robots.
Lila
She is a young girl who helps take care of Loca. She is thoughtful,gentle,and imaginative. Lila loves playing with Loca and takes her to the garden to watch the birds fly. She often reads books to Loca and imagines stories about the creatures they see. Lila shares a special bond with Loca and enjoys teaching her new things,creating a nurturing environment for the young robot.
I was out in the garden.
I was looking for worms.
I love worms!
When I find worms, I squeak and chirp and tweet, just like a real little bird.
And if I'm lucky, Lila comes and gets me when I find worms.
She takes me to the big white box in the kitchen.
She feeds me the worms!
I love Lila!
She is such a good girl to take me out for walks and feed me worms.
Sometimes she reads books to me and takes me outside to watch the birds fly.
Sometimes she imagines that the creatures in the pictures are real, and we go on adventures to find them.
I like being read to almost as much as I like looking for worms!
And I love getting treats after I am good and stay on my perch for a long time.
Lila gives me treats, pats my head, and scratches behind my ears, just like Dr. Helena Anders does.
Dr. Helena Anders is the one who made me.
She is such a nice person, always smiling at me and giving me hugs.
She comes to visit me often, checks on my progress, and makes sure that I am learning new things.
I am so lucky to have been made by such a smart and nice person as Dr. Helena Anders!
Sometimes Mr. Jenkins comes to visit me too.
He is such a friendly person and always tells us interesting facts about the plants and animals in the garden.
Mr. Jenkins knows everything about the garden!
While digging for worms near the rose bushes, I heard a soft thud beside me.
I turned my head and saw something lying in the grass.
It was an egg!
The shell was pale blue and smooth, glistening in the morning sunlight.
I hopped closer to investigate.
My metal beak accidentally bumped against the egg, and it started cracking.
Tiny fissures spread across its surface.
Then, a small yellow fuzzy head poked out.
Two wobbly legs emerged next, followed by a fluffy body covered in soft downy feathers.
The chick blinked at me with dark eyes and chirped "Mama!"
I backed away, startled and confused.
But the chick followed me!
It pressed its warm little body against my cold metal feathers and peeped again.
In that moment, I realized I wasn't just a creation—I was a guardian.
I stare at the tiny chick pressed against my metal chest.
Its warmth seeps through my circuits, a sensation I've never experienced before.
According to my programming, I'm just a mechanical bird, designed to mimic the behaviors of real birds for the entertainment of children.
But this fuzzy creature keeps nuzzling me, chirping "Mama" over and over.
I try backing away slowly, but it follows me, stumbling on its unsteady legs.
Panic sets in.
I don't know how to deal with this situation!
The chick continues to peep and snuggle against me.
I lift one wing and smack myself in the face with a loud clang.
"Oh boy!"
The sound startles the chick, making it jump.
It looks up at me with those big eyes, still trusting, still believing I'm its mother.
I watch in amazement as the little chick mimics my every move.
When I scratch at the dirt with my metal claws, it drags its tiny feet across the ground.
When I peck between the flower stems, it jabs its beak into the soil.
The chick's movements are clumsy and uncoordinated, but it never gives up.
I spot a worm wiggling near the surface and demonstrate how to catch it.
My mechanical beak snaps shut precisely on one end of the worm, and I pull it out of the ground.
The chick watches intently, then tries to copy me.
It lunges forward, but instead of catching a worm, it tumbles face-first into the mud.
I gently lift it out of the muck, realizing that teaching this little one might be my most important task yet.
I lead my chick to my secret worm spot behind the compost heap where the soil stays damp and rich.
The little one watches as I show it proper worm-catching technique.
My mechanical beak snaps shut on a pink wiggler, and I pull it out of the earth.
When I turn around, the chick is already gulping down worms whole, making happy peeping sounds with each swallow.
"Hey, slow down!"
I squawk, trying to nudge it away from the feast.
The chick ignores me completely, too busy stuffing its beak.
"You're going to get a stomachache if you keep that up," I warn, trying to sound authoritative.
The chick pauses, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in its eye.
"But Mama, I'm just doing what you taught me!" it chirps defiantly, before diving back into the pile of worms.
I lead my chick along the garden paths toward Little Petey's favorite spot for tea parties.
The orange tabby cat has set up a tiny table under the shade of an ancient oak tree.
Delicate china teacups and saucers are arranged on a lace tablecloth, accompanied by a tiered serving dish filled with cupcakes decorated in pink frosting.
As we approach, I notice my chick bouncing excitedly on its feet, its beady eyes fixed on the treats.
Little Petey is pouring tea from a dainty teapot into the teacups when we arrive.
I try to keep my energetic baby from knocking everything over while I greet our hostess.
"Good afternoon, Little Petey," I say, bowing my head respectfully.
"Thank you for inviting us to your tea party."
"Of course, dear Birdy," Little Petey replies with a gracious smile.
"Please, help yourself to some tea and cupcakes."
My chick doesn't wait for an offer; it lunges forward to grab a cupcake off the serving dish.
"Whoa there, little one!" I exclaim, gently pulling it back.
Little Petey chuckles softly, watching the chick with amusement.
"Seems like your chick has quite the appetite, Birdy," she says, her eyes twinkling.
After the tea party, I spread my metal wings to fly home.
Something feels off, though.
My gears strain as I lift off the ground.
Suddenly, I hear a familiar "Mama!" from above.
Looking back, I spot my chick clinging to my tail feathers, its tiny wings flapping uselessly.
I try to adjust my flight path, but the extra weight throws me off balance.
We wobble over the garden path.
My mechanical systems whir in protest as we start losing altitude.
The chick's grip tightens, and despite my attempts to glide safely, we tumble through the air.
"Hold on tight, little one!" I shout, trying to keep my voice steady despite the panic rising within me.
"I'm trying, Mama!" it squeaks, its voice a mix of fear and excitement.
As we crash into a soft patch of grass, Little Petey rushes over, concern etched on her face.
I rest on my perch in Dr. Anders' workshop, my gears whirring softly as they cool down from the day's activities.
The chick nestles against my metal chest, still chirping "Mama" every so often.
Little Petey sits nearby, grooming her whiskers as she watches us with curious eyes.
"Where did you find that little chick?" she asks, breaking the silence.
I take a deep breath, my mechanical lungs filling with the scent of oil and metal.
"It was by the roses," I explain, my voice a bit shaky from our earlier mishap.
"I saw a blue egg hidden among the flowers. And then... it hatched."
Little Petey nods thoughtfully.
"It must have been swept away by the wind or something. We should find its real mother."
I glance down at the chick, who peeps loudly and presses closer to my metal body as if sensing our conversation.
"We have to be careful," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"If we find its real mother, what if she doesn't want it back? What if she thinks it's too late?"
The chick starts peeping louder now, as if understanding our conversation.
Little Petey stands up, her tail swishing decisively behind her.
"Don't worry," she says firmly.
"We'll figure this out together, and if its real mother doesn't want it, we'll make sure it has a home with us."
I nod, feeling a mixture of relief and uncertainty as I look at the chick.
"Thank you, Little Petey," I say softly, grateful for her support.
I watch from a nearby branch as Little Petey carries my chick up to the nest hidden in the maple tree.
A brown-feathered mother bird rushes forward, wrapping her wings around the chick while crying tears of joy.
More yellow chicks emerge from behind her, chirping excitedly as they welcome their lost sibling back home.
My mechanical heart whirs faster when the chick looks back at me, still calling "Mama!"
I wave my metal wing goodbye, trying to be brave.
Claw, the orange snake, slithers beside me on the branch, nodding his head in approval as he watches the family reunion unfold.
I follow Little Petey back to the garden house as the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the garden.
My gears creak a bit from the day's adventures, but I manage to keep up with Little Petey's quick steps.
As we approach the garden house, I see my chick in its nest through the window.
The mother bird is now beside it, surrounded by her other chicks.
Little Petey prepares her bed of soft leaves, and Claw coils up next to her.
I settle onto my charging perch, my mechanical eyes drifting back to the maple tree.
Even in the fading twilight, I can still see tiny yellow feathers glowing in the nest.
My metal chest feels empty without my chick, but I know it's where it belongs.
Little Petey tucks a small blanket around me, and Claw flicks his tail in a gentle wave before closing his eyes.
I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of belonging in this peculiar family.
