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The ship left hundreds of crates floating on the surface. But as the hurricane thrashed and swirled and knocked them around, the crates also began sinking into the depths. One after another, they were swallowed up by the waves, until only five crates remained.
The island’s northern shore had become something of a robot gravesite. Scattered across the rocks were the broken bodies of four dead robots.
And in all the excitement, one of their paws accidentally slapped an important little button on the back of the robot’s head.
“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz.
The robot felt her body absorbing the sun’s energy. With each passing minute she felt more awake. When her battery was good and full, Roz looked around and realized that she was packed inside a crate.
Those otters were now hiding behind a rock.
Hail the conquering heroes
that’s
That was
Clearly, the animals were experts at survival. Clearly, the robot was not.
lol.
And to make matters worse, bears have an instinct that drives them to attack when a creature runs away, especially if the creature running away is a mysterious, sparkling monster. So as the startled bears watched Roz stomping out of their cave, they really had no choice at all. They simply had to take up the chase.
Clearly, Roz was not designed to fight bears.
Well that seems like an oversight
The robot’s programming stopped her from being violent, but nothing stopped her from being annoying.
Relatable.
More than anything, they wanted to kill the robot.
Jeez
“Thank you, stick insect,” said Roz as she placed him back where she found him. “You have taught me an important lesson. I can see how camouflage helps you survive; perhaps it could help me survive also.”
She discovered that all the different animals shared one common language; they just spoke the language in different ways. You might say each species spoke with its own unique accent.
When Roz first stomped across the island, the animal squawks and growls and chirps had sounded like nothing more than meaningless noises. But she no longer heard animal noises. Now she heard animal words.
There was an hour each morning, in the dim light of dawn, when all the island animals were safe. You see, long ago they had agreed not to hunt or harm one another during that hour. They called it the Dawn Truce. Most mornings, the island residents would gather in the Great Meadow and spend the hour chatting with friends.
Then, using her body and voice, the robot spoke to the animals in their own language. “Hello, my name is Roz.”
“You don’t need food?” Fink relaxed a bit. “Well, I need food. And lots of it. Why don’t you make yourself useful and find me some food?”
Lazy ass
“My face! My beautiful face! Somebody help!” Fink the fox was lying on a log, howling in pain, with a face full of long, sharp quills, when Roz appeared.
NOT THE FACE
Roz knew that some animals had to die for others to live. That was how the wilderness worked. But would she allow her accident to cause the death of yet another gosling?
The
Lowercase
“Oh! I love eggs! Can I eat it?”
BAD FINK
The fox sighed. He scratched his chin. And then he started sniffing the breeze. His nose had found the scent of the dead geese. “You can keep your egg!” he said as he trotted toward the cliffs. “I smell something better!”
“Unbelievable? Really?” The creature’s voice seemed to be softening. “I thought perhaps I overdid it when I stuck out my tongue.”
A bit theatrical, maybe.
The hole grew bigger and bigger, and then, like a robot breaking from a crate, the hatchling pulled himself out into the world.
“Oh, it’s nothing, you just have to provide the gosling with food and water and shelter, make him feel loved but don’t pamper him too much, keep him away from danger, and make sure he learns to walk and talk and swim and fly and get along with others and look after himself. And that’s really all there is to motherhood!”
Sure easy-peasy
“Oh dear, he certainly is a tiny thing,” said Loudwing. “He must be a runt. I’ll warn you, Roz—runts usually don’t last very long. And with you for a mother, it’ll take a miracle for him to survive. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. However, the gosling still deserves a name. Let’s see here. His bill is an unusually bright color. It’s actually quite lovely. If I were his mother, I’d call him Brightbill, but you’re his mother, so it’s up to you.”
Mrs. Beaver turned to her husband. “Remember how you asked me to point out when you’re being stubborn and rude? Well, you’re being stubborn and rude!”
Yes girl stand your ground
It was Paddler, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver’s son.
“Of course she did,” Mr. Beaver muttered to himself. “Loudwing gets me out of one lousy jam, and I spend the rest of my days doing her favors.” Mrs. Beaver glared at her husband. “Sorry,” he said, realizing he was being stubborn and rude again.
“Brightbill was cold last night,” said Roz. “So I taught myself how to make a fire.”
Life finds a way.
“Why, a beautiful lodge like this deserves a name! We call our lodge Streamcatcher.” The robot’s computer brain didn’t take long. “The lodge is for Brightbill. Brightbill is a bird. Birds live in nests. Could we call this lodge the Nest?”
Roz held him. The robot’s body may have been hard and mechanical, but it was also strong and safe. The gosling felt loved. His eyes slowly winked closed. And he spent the whole night quietly sleeping in his mother’s arms.
Might
Roz held him. The robot’s body may have been hard and mechanical, but it was also strong and safe. The gosling felt loved. His eyes slowly winked closed. And he spent the whole night quietly sleeping in his mother’s arms.
;_;
Thanks to the robot’s careful attention, it was now bursting with colors and scents and flavors. Clearly, Roz was designed to work with plants.
The gosling was small for his age, and he always would be,
If it was edible, Brightbill would eat it.
Relatable.
Then the gosling took a deep breath and said, “It’s very nice to meet you Chitchat I don’t think you talk too much I think you talk just enough and I like you so let’s be friends.” A big smile appeared on the squirrel’s tiny face. For once, Chitchat was speechless.
<3
Roz placed Brightbill on her shoulder and headed back to the Nest. “I can’t believe I can fly now, Mama,” said Brightbill in his sleepy voice. “I just wish… I just wish you could fly with me.”
The night sky was full of streaking, shimmering, and blinking lights that she simply couldn’t identify. Clearly, Roz was not designed to be an astronomer.
You and me both, sister.
“Should I stop calling you Mama?” said the gosling. “I will still act like your mother, no matter what you call me,” said the robot. “I think I’ll keep calling you Mama.” “I think I will keep calling you son.” “We’re a strange family,” said Brightbill, with a little smile. “But I kind of like it that way.” “Me too,” said Roz.
But Roz did worry. At least, she worried as much as a robot is capable of worrying. Brightbill had never run away—or flown away—and suddenly Roz was computing all the things that could go wrong. A violent storm. A broken wing. A predator. She had to find her son before something bad happened.
“Why do you always repeat what I say?” said the sister bear to her brother. “It’s so annoying!” “I was just backing you up!” “Let me do the talking!” “Fine! You don’t have to be so mean about it!”
“Whatever you are, we don’t like you!” said Thorn.
Rude.
The young bears should have listened to their mother. Instead they pretended not to hear her.
I see a couple of little bears in for a spanking
“I can’t thank you enough for saving Thorn. I promise my cubs will never bother you again. Isn’t that right?” “Yes, Mother,” said Nettle and Thorn, together.
Oh now y'all listen
“I forgive you,” said Roz. Whether she was capable of true forgiveness is anybody’s guess. But they were nice words, and Thorn felt better when he heard them.
I’d like you all to meet Bumpkin, Lumpkin, and Rumpkin. But I call them the Fuzzy Bandits.”
THE FUZZY BANDITS
He wasn’t the biggest or the strongest, but he was the smartest. You see, he and his mother had started studying the flying techniques of other birds. They’d sit for hours and watch how hawks and owls and sparrows and vultures moved through the air.
The adult geese frowned at his flying tricks, but the goslings thought he was amazing. Each morning, a gaggle of them would wait on the water for Brightbill to lead them into the sky. And then a few hours later he’d return home to Roz, shaking his tail feathers and honking about his latest airborne adventures.
