The girl trotted on her scruffy spotted pony to the edge of the dome, the pony’s hooves stirring up a cloud of brown dust on the packed dirt road. The girl was about twelve years old, and her long blonde pigtails flopped against her back. She pulled back on the pony’s reins as they reached the end of the road, and the tiny animal gratefully halted. The girl walked slowly to the thick, bluish glass and pressed her face and hands against it. She could see a wide radius around the dome that was cracked and dry, and beyond that, an ominous forest. Behind her stretched the dirt road, with a field of wheat and a field of corn on either side. The pony idly switched his tail at invisible flies and chewed on the bit of his bridle as the girl stared out over the waste land, then turned away.