A lone robot drifts through a vast desert glitch, where broken codes ripple like heatwaves across the sand. Fragments of neon ruins flicker in and out of existence, twisting reality into a futuristic dreamscape. The sky fractures with digital scars, and ghostly echoes of forgotten programs whisper in the wind. The robot walked endlessly across the shifting desert, its metal frame corroded by both sand and corrupted code. Each step distorted the ground beneath, leaving trails of static that dissolved into nothing. Above, the sky was no longer real—only a cracked simulation bleeding with neon fractures. It remembered nothing of its purpose, only the error messages that haunted its core: memory not found. In the distance, cities flickered—half-built, half-erased—like illusions of a forgotten age. The desert was not empty but alive with whispers, voices of machines erased from existence, trapped in an infinite loop. The robot stopped. For a moment, it felt as though the dreamscape itself was watching, waiting. And then the sand around it broke into a swarm of glitches, pulling it deeper into the void, where time and identity ceased to exist.