Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

Our brave friend spiritrover has made it to a suitable sunny spot to spend the winter. Her solar panels are tilted toward the sun, and she's getting 20% more power than she was while wandering nearby.

Not that the time matters, when I suspect the timeline has slipped.

Robot dogs, I can cope with. Robot dinosaurs, sure. Who wouldn't want a walking, talking pet dinosaur? (Okay, maybe not a full-size T. rex, but a living-room-size pet dinosaur might be the Perfect Toy.)

The problem is the robot flowers. No, you don't water them. I suspect that water would be worse for them than for the fake flowers at a coffee shop I used to to go, which looked fine until someone made the mistake of watering them, and wilted ever after.

Apparently, robot flowers want attention, and will wilt if neglected. I could probably cope with that: guilt without actual greenery. (Am I missing the point here?)

The problem is, if you're nice to a robot flower, it will sing to you.

Where am I, and how did I get here?