by Paul Dueweke
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Hunt
He backed his car out of the garage into the street and drove away. After he had gone about a half block, the little gray robot car lurched forward in pursuit. Elliott rounded the corner as usual and then floored the accelerator. By the time the robot rounded that corner, Elliott was nearly to the end of the block. He reeled around that corner with a squeal and saw his opportunity. He screeched to a halt, opened the door, pressed the AUTO button, and dove out between two parked cars in the street, slamming the door behind him. He lay perfectly still on the street as his car sped away toward a destination he’d programmed into it. He stopped his heart as the robot car zoomed by.
When he heard it disappear around the next corner, he raised himself onto his stiff and bleeding knees and thought, Those robots aren’t so smart after all. He limped toward home, hardly noticing his torn and bloodstained pants. He had defeated a professional hit robot, and it was easy. He proudly walked up to his front door. Within a minute, he left for the lab on his bike.
