...

Hello. This is my review.

This was good. But telling people what they’re doing right doesn’t usually lead to improvement, so let’s start with the bad.

First of these is a grammar error: ‘“wow, now that this poetic pixa.”’, I’m pretty sure you meant ‘that it is’ or ‘this is’ either of these choices works in context and I’d be splitting hairs if I recommend one over the other. The second of these is a slightly off description: where you described a storm that “painting like a toddler with lightning across the sky”, I would suggest removing “like a toddler” from the description, while it would make it more readable. In the similar vein you described lights with a “placid brightness”, perhaps change “placid” to “pallid”, I guess “placid” works, it isn’t really descriptive.

With that out of the way I can give you some praise:

I think this is one of your best works, I was genuinely inspired by portions, especially by the end. This end is also something I feel you deserve praise for; it encapsulates everything a post-apocalyptic story should: the hopelessness, the terror, the helplessness, I can only imagine what it must be like to be the last of the human race, and to know you would never see another living thing again. This could have been something much worse in less capable hands, but you manage to turn it into something beautiful and sad. I wouldn’t mind a prequel.

I apologize if this is not up to par with my other reviews I am unjustifiably exhausted.

This was my review. Goodbye.

Wow. This is really, really good. It really dug deep. And it made me really sad. Jeff is all alone with only a robot for company. Pixa is really well developed. She/it sure helped make it seem not totally alone for poor Jeff. She is as comforting and as close to an actual human that you can get. Though this was only a short story, you managed to get her personality through immediately. She is nurturing and caring. I got attached to her right away and forgot that she is a robot. Or a computer. Or both.

Jeff is an amazing character as well. So well-developed. I could sense his pain, yet you managed not to make him sound as if he was always complaining or griping. He seems to be a character who is naturally of cheerful disposition, yet is so lonely. His loneliness really hit home. I would die if I had no human contact.

Nice twist at the end. I find it ironic that the only hope Jeff has at human contact is through aliens. I hope he gets to meet them and is no longer lonely.
Keep writing. You are a stupendous writer!

-Shieldmaiden

I really love this story! some things to tweak:

1.

It seemed to shy away, bashfully, at his praise.

There was a pleased sing in the artificial voice.

He picked up his pen and began to write out the small paragraph of description. “An excellent opening line, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

He picked up his pen and began copying it down. “Great opening line.”

“Having the complete works of Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, George Eliot and Edgar Allan Poe installed on my database, does have its uses now and then.”

“Having the complete works of 256 of the greatest authors installed on my database does have its uses now and then.”

Using a small hidden camera in the ceiling, she spied on what he had written down.

She looked over his shoulder from a small camera in the ceiling.

His feet passed from cushioning carpet to the cool kitchen tiles and Jeff tapped a large object which several centuries earlier one would have thought was a fridge.

His feet passed from cushioning carpet to the cool kitchen tiles. Jeff tapped on a large machine, that several centuries earlier might have been called a fridge.

Is this what this is all about Jeff?

Is this what this is about?

Out There, was a land of death and decay.

Out There was a world of nuclear wastelands and acid lakes.

The coffee table creaked as Jeff dropped onto it. His legs no longer seemed strong enough to support him with the added weight of this new information.

The words hit him with a weight that made his legs buckle onto the coffee table.

A song echoed around the empty apartment, of highs and lows and longing. The message was short and to Jeff, the tune made no sense. But whether he could understand it or not didn’t matter for it was a sound made by another world. A world that was crying out for someone to hear it, so it wouldn’t be alone in this universe of nothing.

A song echoed around the empty apartment, of highs and lows and longing, stretched over seven seconds that dripped with sound. The meaning was incomprehensible. But whether he could understand it or not didn’t matter, for it was a sound made by another world. A world that was crying out for someone to hear it, so it wouldn’t be alone in this universe of nothing.

With a sigh, he leant into a curtained wall and pushed his head into the fabric until he could feel the solid, transparent shield that protected him, behind it.

With a sigh, he leant into a curtained wall and pushed his head into the fabric until he could feel the cool window behind it.

They were out there, and he was here, separated by a wall built from time.

If they came; no one is out there, would become, no one is in here. Such truthful lies.

If they head his reply, and traveled across space to come here, the words "no one is out there" would become "no one is in here."
Such truthful lies.