The Wild Robot (The Wild Robot, #1)

by Peter Brown

Our story begins on the ocean, with wind and rain and thunder and lightning and waves. A hurricane roared and raged through the night. And in the middle of the chaos, a cargo ship was sinking down down down to the ocean floor.

I'm a sucker for this kind of narrative aaaaak

As you might know, robots don’t really feel emotions. Not the way animals do. And yet, as she sat in her crumpled crate, Roz felt something like curiosity. She was curious about the warm ball of light shining down from above. So her computer brain went to work, and she identified the light. It was the sun.

Roz moved awkwardly at first. A chunk of rock crumbled in her hand, and she had trouble finding footholds. But as she climbed higher and higher, she started to get the hang of it.

Seagulls squawked from their cliff nests and soared away when the robot came too close. But Roz paid them no mind. She was focused only on getting to the top.

But the forest was not a comfortable place for Roz. Jagged rocks and fallen trees and tangled underbrush made it difficult for her to walk. She stumbled along, struggling to keep her balance, until her foot snagged and she toppled over like a piece of timber. It wasn’t a bad fall. No dings, no dents, just dirt. But Roz was programmed to keep herself in good working order, and once she was back on her feet, she immediately began cleaning herself off. Her hands darted around her body, quickly brushing and picking off every speck of dirt. Only when the robot was sparkling again did she continue through the forest.

The robot slowly turned her head completely around. She saw the ocean stretching to the horizon in every direction. And in that moment, Roz learned what you and I have known since the beginning of this story. In that moment, Roz finally realized that she was on an island.

The island was teeming with life. And now it had a new kind of life. A strange kind of life. Artificial life.

As the robot looked out at the island, it never even occurred to her that she might not belong there. As far as Roz knew, she was home.

Our robot was helpless.

interesting, robot should not feel feelings

She was just happy to be safe from the mudflow.

So she felt something like relief when she spotted the quiet hole in the side of the mountain.

Even the robot felt something like fear. Roz was programmed to take care of herself. She was programmed to stay alive.

But the robot’s programming would not allow her to be violent.

She was making good progress when she felt something sticky on her arm.

“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.”

But her desire to stay alive was stronger than her desire to stay clean, and our robot decided it was time she got dirty. Roz was going to camouflage herself.

The robot was beginning to understand the birds. But she was also beginning to understand the porcupines and the salamanders and the beetles. She discovered that all the different animals shared one common language; they just spoke the language in different ways.

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.

Roz wandered the island, covered in dirt and green growing things, and everywhere she went, she heard unfriendly words. The words would have made most creatures quite sad, but as you know, robots don’t feel emotions, and in these moments that was probably for the best.

“Why did you go for his throat?” “Why do you think? Because I was hungry!” “If you had not attacked the porcupine, you would not have quills in your face.” “Yes, Roz, I know that. But a fox has gotta eat! I just didn’t expect him to put up such a fight. Look! There are even quills in my paws! I can’t walk! My face is numb! I could die if you don’t help me!”

something clicked deep inside her computer brain. Roz realized she had caused the deaths of an entire family of geese.

Roz knew that some animals had to die for others to live. That was how the wilderness worked.

“Have you done any acting?” said the opossum. “I have not,” said the robot. “Well, you should! You might enjoy it. You can start by imagining the character you’d like to be. How do they move and speak? What are their hopes and fears? How do others react to them? Only when you truly understand a character can you become that character…”

Performing could be a survival strategy!

If the opossum could pretend to be dead, the robot could pretend to be alive. She could act less robotic and more natural. And if she could pretend to be friendly, she might make some friends. And they might help her live longer, and better.

Ordinarily, the forest animals would have run away from the monster. But they were awfully curious why she was carrying a hatchling on her shoulder. And once Roz explained the situation, the animals actually tried to help.

“Yes, I do want him to survive,” said the robot. “But I do not know how to act like a mother.” “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!”

“I suppose you two will need a rather large home. You’d better speak with Mr. Beaver. He can build anything. He’s a little gruff at times, but if you’re extra friendly, I’m sure he’ll help you out. And if he gives you trouble, remind him that he owes me a favor.”

nature always finds a way to survive.. that's sweet

“Do you plan on having friends over? The missus loves to entertain guests.” “I do not have any friends.” “No friends? Well, you seem pretty likable for a monster. I mean, a robot. But if you want my advice, you should grow yourself a garden. Your neighbors won’t be able to resist fresh herbs and berries and flowers. Just you wait and see! So we’ll make sure there’s a place for a garden, and we’ll give your lodge some extra space for all the friends you’ll be hosting.” The beaver winked.

Brightbill looked up and said, “Mama, sit!” Roz sat down. Then he said, “Mama, hold!” 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.

There always seemed to be friendly animals hanging around the garden.

It was amazing how differently everyone treated Roz these days. Animals who once ran from the robot in fear now stopped by the Nest just to spend time with her.

“You’ll never be the perfect mother, so just do the best you can. All Brightbill really needs is to know you’re doing your best.”

No gosling ever had a more attentive mother. Roz was always there, ready to answer her son’s questions, or to play with him, or to rock him to sleep, or to whisk him away from danger. With a computer brain packed full of parenting advice, and the lessons she was learning on her own, the robot was actually becoming an excellent mother.

The robot’s computer brain knew that if water got inside her body, it could do serious damage.

“What is wrong, Brightbill?” said Roz as she followed her son into the Nest. “Nothing!” he squawked. “Leave me alone!” “Tell me what is wrong.” “I don’t want to talk about it!” “Maybe I can help.” “Mama, the other goslings were making fun of me.” “What did they say?” “They called you a monster and then laughed at me for having a monster mother.” “They should know by now that I am not a monster. Would you like me to talk to them?” “No! Don’t do that! That’ll just

I used to stand straighter than a tree trunk. I used to speak a different language. I have not grown bigger, but I have changed very much.”

The robot wanted to explain things to her son, but the truth was that she understood very little about herself. It was a mystery how she had come to life on the rocky shore. It was a mystery why her computer brain knew certain things but not others.

“You’re not my real mother, are you?” “There are many kinds of mothers,” said the robot. “Some mothers spend their whole lives caring for their young. Some lay eggs and immediately abandon them. Some care for the offspring of other mothers. I have tried to act like your mother, but no, I am not your birth mother.”

“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.”

“I’m already four months old!” “I am sorry,” said Roz. “But you cannot go.” Brightbill stomped around the garden and squawked, “This isn’t fair!” “I promise I will take you to see them when you are older,” said the robot. “But I want to go now!” “Please calm down.” “You can’t even fly! I could take off and you wouldn’t be able to stop me!”

teenager....

And there was Brightbill. Perched on the edge, looking at the robot parts scattered on the shore below. His eyes were wet. “Don’t be angry!” he said as his mother walked over. “I am not angry. But you should not have flown off like that. You could have gotten hurt, or worse. I was worried sick!” “I’m sorry, Mama.” “It is okay,” said Roz.

“Will you ever die, Mama?” “I think so.” “Will I die?” “All living things die eventually.” The gosling’s face scrunched with worry. “Brightbill, you are going to live a long and happy life!” Roz laid a hand on her son’s back. “You should not worry about death.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if you wake up different? What if you never wake up? Mama, I don’t want to shut you down!”

“Hello, my name is Brightbill!” he shouted over the waves. “And this is my mama! Her name is Roz!”

Brightbill’s eyes welled up with tears, and then he felt his mother scoop him into her arms. “Are you okay?” she whispered in his ear. “I think I’ve learned enough about robots for today,” he whispered back.

Do you know what the most terrible sound in the world is? It’s the howl of a mother bear as she watches her cub tumble off a cliff.

Thorn let go of the branch and cried, “Please don’t drop me, Roz! I don’t want to die!” “Do not worry,” said the robot. “I will not drop you.”

It was late, and it had been a long, difficult day for everyone,

raccoons have very nimble hands. And the Fuzzy Bandits used theirs to skillfully tie those vines around the robot’s leg and around her new foot. The vines caught nicely on all the dings and dents and scrapes.