As you crawled slowly across the plain of frozen methane, you berate yourself one more time for not recharging at the last outpost. Now, your reserves are down to fumes and the next outpost is way past your limit. Death is singing a tune that is getting considerably louder.

You realize that the only chance you have is sunrise: beautiful, wonderful sunrise. Even here, on this lonely moon, there is enough sunlight for your solar cells to convert to energy, energy that can keep your positronic brain running for another day. The big question is: will the sun rise in time, or are you destined for the scrap heap? Damn! Why didn’t you recharge when you had a chance.

You start shutting down essential systems—the non-essentials were shut down hours ago. You feel consciousness leaving as the cold of space grips you. You rail against the cold with your last dying electronic breath. Then you feel it, the warmth of sun on your solar cells as it rises over the horizon. You have cheated death for another day.