Prompt

A vast, sun-scorched steppe stretches towards the horizon, dotted with a cluster of mechanical contraptions, their metallic bodies rusted to a warm orange patina, with copper accents and intricate piping visible beneath their weathered exteriors, as if abandoned by a long-forgotten civilization, the machines stand silently, their purpose unknown, surrounded by a sea of tall, golden grasses that sway gently in the breeze, beneath a blue sky with only a few wispy, white clouds.