The days had grown short again, and the sun was always low on the horizon. At first the humans didn't know what to make of it – all they had ever known was 72 Degrees and sunny for nearly seven centuries. But as the strange, dismal weather had persisted – even grown worse – McCrea had done some research and came across a term he didn't fully understand. So, naturally, he consulted the Axiom's main computer for answers.

"Define … winter," he said carefully. Outside the frost had begun to set in, and the humans who had chosen to create a small village of escape pods around the dormant ship were nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were afraid to venture out in the foreboding chill.

McCrea couldn't blame them; the frost was harsh on his bare feet, and he rarely left the warmth of the Axiom anymore. He hoped this strange weather wasn't going to be permanent.

Winter, the computer responded. The fourth and coldest season of the year, coming between autumn and spring; in popular use comprising the months of December, January and February.

"Hmm," said McCrea thoughtfully, and plumped down into his chair. This could take a while …

"Define … seasons."

WALL-E detested ice. It would cause trash to stick together and tear at his compactor. He often had to use his laser cutter at its lowest setting just to heat the refuse enough to melt the irksome substance away. This cost him time and lowered his efficiency drastically.

It was bad enough that the cold weather forced him to work overtime to make up for the difference in his normal output, but the persisting frost was causing him to worry for EVE. The vegetation evaluator had grown terribly fond of the newly growing plants they had discovered shortly after landing, and as they had tended to their needs she had taken and replanted a few for her own private enjoyment, just outside their truck. WALL-E had been surprised to discover the small garden beside their door, but the look on EVE's face as she admired the sight had inspired him to bring home any other plants he would find as he made his rounds, and as the year progressed their garden had grown.

Everything was different now. WALL-E had made his way from the truck one morning to discover the plants coated in frost – a few had wilted and hung lifeless in the brisk air. He had done his best to revive them before EVE found out, but it had been no use. The white probe had looked sadly upon her dying plants as a mother might consider her children, and then tended to the rest. But the next day, more had wilted away.

That had been several weeks ago. Nothing remained of their garden now but cold, sharp stalks of frozen green sticking out of a small patch of snow – the only indication that anything had even been there.

EVE was sad. Naturally, WALL-E was sad because EVE was sad. And so it was that a persisting gloom hung about the small, empty colony; what few people would venture out would always hurry back inside to the safety of their escape pods, or the Axiom. What few robots were brave enough to come outside were also adversely affected by the overcast weather, and so would move about silently, and then return to their stations. It was quiet lonely.

WALL-E would occasionally cheer EVE up when he returned from work. Watching Hello, Dolly, showing her new trinkets or simply being together would turn their thoughts away from the despair that pervaded the air, but their bliss was usually short-lived. He sighed as he rolled home that night. He had to do something to make her feel better – at least until spring came around.

As he opened the door to his truck, EVE floated out toward him. Her eyes were upturned into the familiar crescent-moon smile he loved to see, but as they momentarily flickered off to the side, they lost some of their luster. She gave him a sad spark-kiss as he made to come indoors, and he took her hand.

"Ssssspprringgg," he warbled comfortingly. "Ssssooon."

EVE nodded, but the dejection was still evident in her eyes. WALL-E made to close the door when a whistle echoed out over the barren landscape.

Pop. A bright burst of color against the dark sky.

"Ooooh." WALL-E zoomed in with his optics. He'd never seen something like this before …

But the light that had suddenly appeared had vanished.

"Eee-vah!" Now EVE was at his side, looking around.

Whistle. Flash. Pop. Another one! This time it was a different color … EVE's eyes grew curious. "Oooooh."

But this too soon disappeared – only to be replaced by another! And another! Slowly the night sky was filled with flashes of color, sending bizarre shadows across the valley. WALL-E noted that they were all emanating from somewhere aboard the Axiom, but strangely found this unimportant. EVE was entranced by the novel occurrence; her eyes were wide with amazement – that was all that mattered.

People started to emerge from their escape pods to marvel at what was taking place; their fear of the cold forgotten. Many inside the spaceship pressed their hands against the glass as they drank the sight in. The area was still silent, but WALL-E found that this was a different kind of quiet. Not only was it now tolerable, but … appropriate.

EVE leaned over and gave WALL-E a second spark-kiss. This one was different than before, and WALL-E's solar meter spiked. He sighed, and leaned his head against hers.

McCrea sat down upon his chair with a satisfied expression. Behind him images of fireworks and snow could be seen upon the Axiom's holoscreen. He briefly wondered where the tradition of firing explosives into the air to celebrate the passing of a year had originated … but that would be a question for another time.

All that could be heard was the brief whistling and explosive crackle as the fireworks lifted the melancholy off the town and released it into space.