With a robot.
The robot was tall. The sun struck sparks from its steel carapace as it lumbered after the girl. Saxon stood frozen as she came flying towards him in a burst of tossing blond hair and laughter, as she saw him and came to a dead halt.
"Hello," Saxon said. He tried to smile.
"Hello." Her inflection was slurred. After six generations, naturally. Her blue eyes sparkled. "Foot-sore, stranger?"
The words had the cadence of a ritual greeting. Saxon stared at the robot and said carefully, "Yes."
"He's only a primer model," she said, following his gaze. "Next year when I'm twelve Father promised to install secondary circuits. My name's Veena. What's yours?"
Saxon introduced himself, as the giant at the plow came forward. His white smile was a benediction, his voice a lambent organ. "Welcome, rover. Haven't seen one of you in months. I'm Lang. Agricultural hobbyist. You'll stay?"