The Wild Robot

“I have a question,” came a booming voice. “My son will not have any family with him. Where does he fit into the formation?”

Everyone turned to Longneck.

“He can fly with me,” said the big goose. “I hear Brightbill is a very clever flier—I could use his help at the point.”

A moment later, the geese began flapping and honking and making their way into the air. A cloud of feathers floated down around the robot and her son.

“You are not a gosling anymore,” said Roz. “I am proud of the fine young goose you have become.”

Brightbill fluttered up to his mother’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Mama.” The young goose wiped his eyes. “Is this where we say good-bye?”

“This is where we say good-bye for now. Spring will soon be here, and we will be together again.”

“I’m going to miss you,” said Brightbill as he nuzzled his mother.

“I am going to miss you too,” said Roz as she nuzzled her son.

The goose took a deep breath. Then he shook his tail feathers, flapped his wings, and joined the flock.

At first, the geese flew in a disorganized jumble. But each goose slowly drifted into position until the flock formed a wobbly V. At the lead was Longneck, and behind his left wing was Brightbill. They circled in the sky until the V pointed south, and then the geese began their long migration. Roz climbed to the top of a tree and watched as the flock slowly faded into the horizon.

CHAPTER 54 THE WINTER

The island was quiet. The migratory birds had all left, the hibernators were asleep, and everyone else had begun their simple winter routines. Everyone but Roz. Now that she was alone, our robot didn’t know what to do with herself. She stood in her gray garden and watched a sheet of ice slowly form on the pond. Sometimes she could hear her good friends the beavers going about their business beneath the ice, and she wondered when she would see them again.

Roz stood there until snowflakes started drifting down from the sky. The flakes swirled in the breeze and slowly piled up on the ground and on the trees and on the robot. So she crouched into the Nest, slid the stone door behind her, and sat in darkness.

Hours, and days, and weeks went by without the robot moving. She had no need to move; she felt perfectly safe in the Nest. And so, in her own way, the robot hibernated.

Roz’s body relaxed.

Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.

Her eyes faded to black.

She probably could have spent centuries like that, hibernating in total darkness. But the robot’s hibernation was suddenly interrupted when a shaft of sunlight fell upon her face and carried energy back to her empty battery.

Roz’s body tensed.

Her quiet whirring slowly started.

Her eyes began to glow.

“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz,” the robot said automatically.

When all her systems were up and running again, Roz noticed that she was surrounded by broken branches and piles of snow. The roof of the Nest had caved in, and the lodge was now flooded with sunlight. Roz felt more energized with each passing minute. But she also felt cold. Her joints felt stiff and brittle, and her thinking was slow. So she got up, cleared a spot on the floor, and made a fire. The snow inside the Nest began to melt and the robot’s sensors began to thaw, and when she was ready, she climbed out through the hole in the roof and into a bright, foreign landscape.

The world Roz had known was now covered in a thick layer of snow. Tree limbs bent to the ground under heavy sleeves. The dark pond was now pure white. The only sounds were Roz’s own crunching footsteps.

Faint wisps of steam curled up from the robot’s body as she trudged through the forest. Roz plunged a hand into a lump of snow and pulled up a long stick. She snapped it in half and flung both pieces back to the Nest. She took a few more steps and picked up a fallen tree. She hacked it into smaller pieces and flung them back as well.

Then she reached down to another snowy shape. But what she pulled up was not a piece of wood. It was Dart the weasel. He was frozen solid. Roz stared at his stiff body for a moment, then decided it was best to leave the poor thing where he was.

As the robot continued gathering wood, she found more victims of the cold. A frozen mouse. A frozen bird. A frozen deer. Had all the island animals frozen to death? No, not all. There were a few fresh tracks in the snow.

As we know, the wilderness is filled with beauty, but it’s also filled with ugliness. And that winter was ugly. A devastating cold front had swept down from the north and brought dangerous temperatures and huge amounts of snow. The animals had prepared for winter. But nothing could have prepared the weaker ones for those long nights, when the temperature plummeted and the wind whipped over the island.