At first Ellen thought she had only imagined it, but by the time she had wiped her eyes, it had already grown a foot tall. A slender, green stalk with a single leaf. Ellen reached out to touch it and the leaf came off in her hand. The plant continued to grow, putting out more leaves, growing. It was as tall as she was now, and spreading, becoming an even thicker tree. Ellen had to step back because it was widening so fast.
She looked down at the leaf in her hand, where an ordinary leaf would have veins, this leaf had silver-- Sky's silver. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The green of earth, the silver of machines, making something more beautiful than either could have alone. Ellen turned it over to get a better look, and she saw, on the back of the leaf in silver writing, the words: "I chose you because I knew you would cry for me."
Ellen had to step back again, because the tree was quickly becoming enormous, something from the days before the rise of the machines. Something like a beech tree, two-stories high. As she backed away she almost tripped over the silvery skeleton of a Terminator robot, which was sitting and staring vacantly, its red eyes dark, waiting for reprogramming.
Ellen began to laugh and cry at once, as the beech finally slowed it's growth, and finished branching out.
But the seed had not finished its work.
From the roots of the tree, grass and creeping vines and flowers appeared. Slowly at first, and then increasing exponentially, a vast array of smaller plants began to spread from the base of the tree. A wave of green swept around Ellen, then past her, burying the Terminator robot, covering the bone pile.
Ellen took a step, and only had time to see footprint-shaped ash for a moment, black footprints in the greenery, before the silver-veined plants ate up the darkness.
She only had time to turn around and look up as the green swept over the wreckage. Vines spread up the crumbling walls. Flowers swept over burned out cars and equipment, dotted with red and blue and purple flowers. Another tree started growing a little further away, a smaller tree with some kind of fruit on it. The lush tide swept over the old power plant, and Ellen looked and saw the line of broken windows that was the conference room. The greenery swept up and through the room, and Ellen saw a little cloud of black dust swirl up and out the windows, dancing, and tumbling.
Ellen looked around her, tears still in her eyes and drying on her face. In every direction, the line of green advanced over the landscape. She watched as the distant hills changed from black to emerald. The far away column of smoke dwindled, and disappeared.
This was why Sky didn't use the last resources to build more robots to fight for us. She knew she could help us win, and she wanted to leave us a gift.
Ellen laughed then, threw her head back and laughed in a way she had not done in all her life. She even feared the echo of her own laughter, but she knew it was only habitual fear, not because there was real danger. She shrieked then, with a kind of inarticulate gleeful noise. She ran, and clapped her hands, capering like a child. She did a cartwheel-- badly, and landed on her rear. It hurt. It felt good to hurt like that.
She looked around for something to hug and saw the Terminator robot. He was cold and hard and unresponsive. "I'm coming back to reprogram you later! Then we'll go tell the others!" she yelled.
She turned and ran, whooping, up the hill that had once been a bone pile. Her running was half-dancing, and she occasionally flung her arms wide and whirled under the clear blue sky.