by Peter Brown
The RECO stood perfectly still and watched as a soft rain started dripping down through the tiers of the forest. And then he sensed it. Up in the canopy was something that didn’t belong.
Roz had been spotted.
The hunter watched his target drop from branch to branch, down to the forest floor. Then she bounded away through the thickly tangled underbrush without stirring a leaf, without snapping a twig, and vanished into the green. However, RECO 1 had other means of tracking her. He could sense her electronic signal. The signal was gliding around the edge of the pond. But it was fading fast. A few more seconds and he would lose it entirely.
RECO 1 burst into a sprint. The forest seemed to sway and quake from his stomping strides. And a minute later, the forest really did begin to move. Trees were toppling down onto the RECO. He fired his rifle, and two toppling trees turned to ash. But then a third swung down through the smoke and hammered his body into the ground. RECO 1 shoved the tree aside, pulled himself up, and continued the hunt. He didn’t notice the beavers diving back into the pond.
RECO 1 tore through brambles and leaped over boulders, and suddenly the ground was caving beneath him. Down he fell into a deep pit, crashing against the bottom and twisting his leg. The robot violently pounded his leg back into shape. Then he launched himself up and out of the pit. He didn’t notice the groundhogs watching from their tunnels.
The hunter faced one trap after another. He was pelted with flaming pinecones, and tripped by taut vines, and crunched by tumbling rocks. The hunter now limped and rattled and was covered in scars. But he kept going.
Roz galloped back and forth across the island, again and again, as she tried to lose RECO 1. But no matter how fast she ran, or how well she hid, or how many animals helped, she couldn’t escape the sound of the hunter’s stomping footsteps. She had never run so hard for so long. And while her mechanical body was holding up, her wooden foot was not. After hours of relentless pounding, it finally gave out. She was galloping through the rocky forest by the sea cliffs when her foot splintered apart.
As soon as RECO 1 found the fresh wooden splinters, he knew his target was in trouble. He stomped out from the trees, onto the clifftop, and scanned the coastline below. Geese were flying down through the drizzle. Otters were wriggling over the rocks. Seaweed and driftwood and broken robot parts were scattered about the shore. But the hunter also sensed a faint electronic signal. Roz was down there somewhere.
The hunter’s blocky hand clamped onto the clifftop and then—thwip—it detached. The hand was connected to a strong cable that spooled out from the end of his arm. He gave the cable two quick tugs, and then he stepped off the ledge.
RECO 1 zipped down the cliffside, one arm releasing cable, the other clutching his rifle, and he slowed to a gentle stop just as he reached the ground. Then, high above, the robot’s hand unclamped and followed the cable all the way down, until—thwip—it snapped right back onto the end of his arm.
Geese squawked and otters squeaked as RECO 1 marched through the robot gravesite. The place was littered with torsos and limbs and heads. They were all valuable parts, but he would collect them later. For now, his only concern was finding Roz.
He followed the electronic signal over to a clump of seaweed. But where was his target? Was RECO 1’s sensor malfunctioning? The robot tapped his head a few times, but the mysterious signal remained. He looked around for any other signs of her. And as he did, the clump of seaweed reached up and grasped his rifle.
CHAPTER 74
THE CLICK
Four robot hands were clamped around the rifle. RECO 1 loomed above. Roz lay below, camouflaged in seaweed. For a moment, all was still. And then the hunter suddenly lurched and twisted as he tried to rip the rifle away from his target. But Roz held on. Seaweed fell from her body, as she was lifted right off the ground. Her legs dangled in the air until she pounded a foot and a stump against the hunter’s broad chest, leaned back, and pulled on the rifle with all her strength.
Waves crashed as the robots grappled for the weapon. But Roz was no match for RECO 1. The hunter was too big and too brutal. Roz could feel her body being pulled apart. But she could also feel the rifle being pulled apart. A faint glow appeared between her hands. The glow grew brighter and brighter, and then a blinding explosion launched the robots in opposite directions.
When the smoke cleared, shards of the rifle were everywhere. RECO 1’s body was pocked with holes, and one arm was charred and crippled. Roz’s arms and legs had been blown completely off. She was now just a torso and a head. Inside her computer brain, our robot’s Survival Instincts were blaring. Her battered body simply could not take any more damage. Clearly, Roz was not designed for combat. But the RECO was. He pulled himself to his feet and hobbled toward his target.
Roz wanted to get up and run away. But without arms and legs, our robot couldn’t move. She could only speak.
“Please do not deactivate me,” she said.
RECO 1 ignored her. His blocky hand reached past her face and touched the back of her head.
Click.
CHAPTER 75
THE LAST RIFLE
With the target deactivated, RECO 1 calmly moved on to the next phase of his mission. He limped through the gravesite and began collecting every single robot part. He splashed into the shallows and returned with a foot. He shook the sand from a cracked torso. He pulled a head out from a tide pool. Each part was then piled around Roz’s lifeless body.
Brightbill watched in horror as his mother slowly disappeared under a pile of parts. Roz looked just like the dead robots. But she wasn’t dead—she had simply been shut down.
“Don’t do it, Brightbill!” The flock tried to stop their leader. “It’s too dangerous!”
But the goose was determined to bring his poor mother back to life. Brightbill crouched low to the ground and slowly moved toward the pile of robots. And when RECO 1 limped away to collect another part, Brightbill sprinted over the rocks, pushed past arms and legs, and squeezed into the pile.
Click.
A muffled voice echoed across the shore. “Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz.”
Brightbill hugged his mother’s face as her computer brain rebooted. “Mama, wake up!”
“What happened?” she said finally. “Where is the RECO?”
“He’s coming this way!”
“What were you thinking, Brightbill? You must leave now before he kills us both!”
“I was scared, Mama!” cried the goose. “I didn’t know what to do!”
Heavy footsteps stomped toward them. Robot parts were knocked aside. And then RECO 1 looked down with his glowing eyes. Brightbill tried to squirm away, but thick fingers locked around him like a cage.
“Mama, help!” cried Brightbill as he was pulled up from the pile.
“Please do not hurt my son!” begged Roz. “He is harmless!”
RECO 1 paid no attention to Roz. He just held up the goose in his giant hand, ready to crush the life out of him.
Mist swirled in the breeze.
Waves sloshed against the rocks.
Seagulls circled above.
No, not seagulls. Vultures. And one of them clutched something silver in his talons. The vultures spiraled down, and RECO 3’s rifle clattered onto the shore. Geese and otters quickly surrounded the rifle. They squawked and squeaked and fumbled with the weapon, trying to aim the clunky thing.
The hunter was confused. How had those animals gotten a rifle? And could they possibly know how to fire it?
They did know.
The geese had seen a trigger pressed before.
A beam of light briefly flashed through the gloom. At first it seemed as if nothing had happened. But a moment later, RECO 1’s chest began glowing a brilliant orange, and then it was melting and oozing down his front, and soon there was a wide, gaping hole in the middle of his torso. His hand suddenly unclenched, and Brightbill fluttered away. Seawater sprayed over the gravesite, and steam hissed up from t
he RECO’s scorching-hot guts. He shook and twitched and
collapsed
beside
Roz.
RECO 1 turned his face to Roz and spoke in a quiet, garbled voice. “Mmmore RRRECOs will c-c-come for you. And if you d-d-destroy them, still mmmore will c-c-come. The Mmmakers will not rrrest until all missing robots have b-b-been rrretrieved.”
“When? When will they come?” said Roz. “How long do we have?”
“You c-c-can ssstill be fixed, Rrroz. Go tooo the airship. B-b-bring all of the robot parts wwwith you. The ship knows wwwhat tooooo dooooooooooooooooooo—”
His voice went silent.
His eyes went dark.
RECO 1 was dead.
CHAPTER 76
THE BROKEN ROBOT
Geese and otters were bustling all around Roz. They were pulling arms and legs out from the robot pile and pressing them against her body. They were hoping to hear thwip sounds and that the robot limbs would snap right into place and Roz would return to her old self and life on the island would go back to normal. But nothing happened. No matter what they did, the limbs wouldn’t attach. Our robot’s body was too badly damaged.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” said Brightbill, his voice trembling. “I thought this would work.”
“It is okay, son,” said Roz calmly. “I am lucky I can still think and speak.”
The animals tried to smile at their poor friend. But they couldn’t hide their sadness. Roz was a mangled wreck, and there was nothing they could do to fix her.
The robot wanted to be strong for her son and her friends; she wanted to ease their worried minds and tell them everything would be fine. But Roz knew that everything would not be fine. She looked down at her broken body. Then she looked up at the geese and the otters and said, “I will need some help getting home.”
CHAPTER 77
THE MEETING
Strong, nimble creatures carried Roz up the sea cliffs and across the island. They carefully propped her up inside the Nest. They built a fire. And then they left the robot with her son.
Roz and Brightbill sat there, staring at the flames, until the goose finally said, “Do you need anything, Ma?”
“I could really use some new arms and legs!” The robot chuckled at her own bad joke.
“That isn’t funny!” cried the goose. “My mother is broken and I don’t know what to do about it!”
“I am sorry for joking.” Roz adjusted her voice to a more serious tone. “I know you want to fix me, but there is nothing anyone here can do.” At these words, her son looked away. “Brightbill, I am afraid we have some difficult decisions to make. I think you should arrange a meeting of our closest friends. We could use their advice.”
The goose disappeared out the door, and soon Roz’s oldest and wisest friends were on their way. Loudwing was the first to arrive. She limped into the lodge on her injured foot and sat close to her robot friend. Mr. Beaver appeared next, followed by Fink and Swooper. Then Tawny curled up on the floor. Mother Bear was too badly hurt to make the journey, so Nettle came in her place. She sat in the garden with her enormous head jutting in through the doorway. Brightbill returned with Chitchat, who was nursing her burned tail. The last one to crawl in was Crag, the old turtle. Once everyone was there, the meeting began.
The group talked all through the night. They discussed the RECOs. They discussed what to do about Roz. They discussed how to keep the island safe. There were stark differences of opinion, and tempers flared, but by daybreak the group had agreed to a plan of action.
That morning, the Dawn Truce didn’t take place in the Great Meadow. Instead, it took place in a small meadow by the foot of the mountain, in front of the airship. Weary animals quietly hobbled into the clearing. The only sounds came from a gurgling brook that wound through the gathering and right past our robot.
Roz sat in the wet grass. She was leaning against a rock. She looked so sad and frail. However, she still had her thoughts and her words, and for the moment that was all she needed.
“Good morning, animals of the island!” Roz’s voice filled the meadow. “I must look strange to you, all beaten up like this, but I hope I still sound like your old friend.”
Hundreds of heads nodded.
“You fought bravely yesterday. You risked your lives defending me, and I am eternally grateful. But many of our friends were wounded. Some may not recover. And there is worse news. Before the last RECO died, he told me that more of his kind will come to our island. They might already be on the move. And even if we defeat them, still more will come. My Makers will not rest until all of their property has been retrieved. They want the dead robots. They want the broken parts. They want me.”
The crowd was silent.
“But I care about this island far too much to put any more lives in danger. And so, my friends, I must leave.”
Voices cried out.
“Don’t go, Roz!”
“Next time we’ll be prepared!”
“We risked our lives so you could stay!”
“I hear you!” The robot’s voice cut through the din. “But look at me! My body is ruined! And the RECO said the only ones who can help me are my Makers.”
“What if he lied?” howled a voice. “You can’t trust those monsters!”
“You are right!” said Roz. “He might have been lying. There may be no hope for me. But that is a chance I have to take. Animals, you taught me to be wild. I want to be wild again! And so I must try to get the repairs I need. It is for the good of me and the island that I return to my Makers.”
A calm settled over the crowd.
They knew Roz was right.
CHAPTER 78
THE FAREWELL
Our robot had an army of animals at her command, and she asked them to bring every robot part and rifle back to the airship. Absolutely everything had to go. It was the only way to be sure that the RECOs would never come back.
The island animals had no trouble locating the remains of the dead robots. Retrieving those remains took a bit more effort, but they were up to the challenge. Teams of clever creatures returned with robot parts of different shapes and sizes. Smashed heads and broken rifles and twisted tubes and heavy bodies were all loaded into the ship until the entire island had been cleared. Even the tiniest scraps were collected. It’s amazing what an army of animals can do.
A light mist was falling when they finally heaved Roz through the ship’s doorway. Her head slowly turned around to face the crowd of geese and beavers and owls and insects and foxes and raccoons and vultures and moose and bears and opossums and fish and deer and otters and turtles and woodpeckers and squirrels and frogs and hares and on and on. Every animal on the island had come to give the robot a proper send-off.
“Good-bye, you wild animals!” Roz’s voice echoed into the gray mist.
The wild animals smiled. And then a few of them started to roar, then more started to screech, and then more started howling and chirping and grunting. Soon, every creature was hollering good-bye to Roz. The chorus of wild voices grew louder and louder, shaking the robot’s body, rattling the ship, booming across the island and up into the clouds, and then their voices gradually died down to silence.
Brightbill fluttered up to his mother’s shoulder.
“You understand why I must leave,” said the robot.
“I understand,” sniffled the goose.
“More RECOs could be headed here right now. I just do not know. There is so much I do not know. I think it is time I get some answers.”
“Will I ever see you again?” said Brightbill, wiping his eyes.
“You are my son, and this is my home,” said Roz. “I will do everything in my power to return.”
Brightbill hugged his mother’s worn face.
“I love you, Mama.”
“I love you, son.”
The goose fluttered back to his flock.
The robot took one last look at her home.
The door hummed closed.
; CHAPTER 79
THE DEPARTURE
The airship’s engines automatically fired up. Then the ship slowly floated above the island, turned to the south, and disappeared into the clouds.
CHAPTER 80
THE SKY
Our story ends in the sky, where a robot was being whisked away from the only home she had ever known. As Roz sat in the airship, broken and alone and speeding toward a mysterious future, she looked back at her miraculous past.
Reader, it must seem impossible that our robot could have changed so much. Maybe the RECOs were right. Maybe Roz really was defective, and some glitch in her programming had caused her to accidentally become a wild robot. Or maybe Roz was designed to think and learn and change; she had simply done those things better than anyone could have imagined.
However it happened, Roz felt lucky to have lived such an amazing life. And every moment had been recorded in her computer brain. Even her earliest memories were perfectly clear. She could still see the sun shining through the gash in her crate. She could still hear the waves crashing against the shore. She could still smell the salt water and the pine trees. Would she ever see and hear and smell those things again? Would she ever again climb a mountain, or build a lodge, or play with a goose?
Not just a goose. A son.
Brightbill had been Roz’s son from the moment she picked up his egg. She had saved him from certain death, and then he had saved her. He was the reason Roz had lived so well for so long. And if she wanted to continue living, if she wanted to be wild again, she needed to be with her family and her friends on her island. So, as Roz raced through the sky, she began computing a plan.
She would get the repairs she needed.
She would escape from her new life.
She would find her way back home.
