They never did scrap . Instead, Elara built a new casing around its core—stronger, faster, with two working optics. She programmed nothing new into it. It didn't need upgrades.
The unit was the size of a small dog, its chassis dented, one optical sensor dark. The faded stencil read: Kcq-yb-yx01-v4.0 – Empathy Calibration Unit, Phase 4 . Most of its casing was scorched. She plugged it into a jury-rigged power cell. The remaining optic flickered—a soft, amber glow, like a dying star deciding to live. kcq-yb-yx01-v4.0
"Warning: Internal temperature critical. Estimated functional time: nine minutes." They never did scrap
That was v4.0's function. Not to fetch, not to compute, but to ask . It was an obsolete prototype designed to teach post-war children on Earth how to process emotion. But Earth had no use for empathy anymore. So v4.0 had been jettisoned into space, left to drift until gravity dragged it down to Titan. It didn't need upgrades