I cannot remember how long it has been since my partial destruction. It might have been minutes, maybe hours, perhaps weeks under this dull gray sky. It may even have been years. This is a landscape that I have become very familiar with.

Even the clouds and stars are beginning to sear their patterns into my digimind. I know them well, more than well, yet they surely know me better than I them, for I am just a limbless doll at the mercy of nature and time.

I have long since given up any hope of rescue in this rugged mountain.

Another winter passes and I am yet again submerged in a deep snow. My functions are slowly disappearing with time.

My attention is caught by a passing plane overhead, cutting its trail through the endless sea of gray. Perhaps it is a plane that I have seen before, but the clouds obscure it and it is too high up to make out any discernable features.

It is gone now. No doubt the humans riding in the aircraft have some important purpose as there are very few that pass over these cliffs.

Glad of the momentary diversion from the endless gray, I simply lie here. My purpose has been fulfilled and my story long told, I simply lie here unable to move, unable to speak. Truly a fitting end for a doll like me.

It is possible that this vigil of mine is entirely pointless, and that soon my last reserve of energy will wind to a halt, I do not know.

Perhaps I should be glad that I served my purpose as any good doll should, yet I can't help but feel sad, wounded in any way a doll such as myself can feel such abstract concepts.

A bird passes overhead, perhaps it is one that I have seen before, or perhaps it is the offspring of that which I have witnessed before?

I do not know.

The days flow by like a calm stream, hardly exciting and they just seem to meld together. I cannot tell if it is some divine justice handed down to me from a God for some transgression in my past life. Me, just a cracked head and wires that have long stopped sparking.

I'm not even sure how I still operate, yet I do all the same, year in, year out.

The storms come and go along with the snow and sleet, with little hint as to if it is spring or fall other than the many moon cycles that have passed. High atop these Rocky crags, the seasons care not for my company.

The bird has appeared again, though I am unsure if this is the same bird, as one of it's wings are crooked and it appears to be missing a leg.

Come here little birds, come lie down and be my companion in these harsh times. I promise that I won't hurt you like those horrible predators that have done you wrong.

Come nestle beside my head, and we can sing and make merry.

Oh, the bird is gone.

I feel betrayed.

Oh the friends we could have been Mr bird.

Well, I suppose it wasn't meant to be.

It's snowing again, and the wind blows vast curtains of white through the air in twisters of cold and misery.

One of my eyes finally stopped working, so now all I can see is the sky. Oh how I wish to fly like that bird, but alas it is not meant to be.

My existence is so very simple, serve, live, die. Yet I can't even die of my own volition. My self shutdown command lines have been corrupted.

So I am still here as I always will be. There is no salvation for me.

I simply will just cease to function, and there will be none who will remember me.