The Wild Robot

The robot walked on through the misty forest for a long time, until she was standing beneath a sprawling oak tree. Roz placed the egg on a pad of moss. Then she snatched grass and twigs from the ground and delicately wove them together to make a little nest. She placed the egg inside the nest, placed the nest on her flat shoulder, and climbed up into the branches.

CHAPTER 26 THE PERFORMER

Up in the sprawling oak, the goose egg was peeping and wobbling around its nest.

“Mama! Mama!” said the egg.

“I am not your mother,” said the robot.

The egg continued peeping and wobbling until nightfall, when the gosling inside settled down to sleep and the egg became quiet and still.

The robot was about to settle into her own kind of sleep when she heard something in the underbrush below. Roz peered down from the branches and saw weeds rustling in the moonlight. A creature was crawling past. But the creature stayed low, hiding in the darkest shadows, so that Roz couldn’t see who it was. Roz wasn’t the only one watching. A pair of furry ears rose up behind a log. The ears belonged to a very hungry badger. He lay in wait as the shadowy creature came closer and closer, and when the time was right, the badger pounced.

You might expect a creature under attack to run for her life, or to defend herself, or at the very least to scream. But when the badger pounced, this creature just rolled onto her back, stuck out her tongue, and died. Not only was she dead, she was rotten, and the badger’s face twisted with disgust. “Blecch! What a stench!” He pawed at the stinky corpse a few times and then gave up. “No, thanks,” he grumbled to himself. “I’d rather eat beetles.” And the badger hurried off to find a less disgusting meal.

Had that mysterious creature been frightened to death? And how could her body possibly rot so quickly? Roz was confused. And the robot became considerably more confused an hour later, when the dead creature’s ears began to flicker, her nose began to twitch, and she rolled onto her feet and went on her way as if nothing had happened.

The robot’s voice called down from the tree. “Are you alive or are you dead?”

The creature’s voice hissed up from the shadows. “Who’s there? Why have you been watching me?”

“What you just did was unbelievable,” said Roz. “I could not look away.”

“Unbelievable? Really?” The creature’s voice seemed to be softening. “I thought perhaps I overdid it when I stuck out my tongue.”

“I was certain you were dead.”

“Oh, what a lovely thing to say!”

“Were you dead?”

“Well, of course not! Nobody can actually come back from the dead. It was just an act!”

“I do not understand.”

“It’s simple. I knew that if I played dead and really laid it on thick, that old badger would be so disgusted that he’d run off. And that is exactly what happened. We opossums are natural performers, you know.”

“So, you are an opossum.” Roz’s computer brain quickly retrieved any information it had on opossums. “You are a marsupial, and are nocturnal, and are known for mimicking the appearance and smell of dead animals when threatened.”

“It’s true, death scenes are my specialty,” said the opossum. “But I have a wide dramatic range, believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“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…”

The two odd creatures sat there, one in a tree, the other in the weeds, and talked about acting. The opossum went on and on about her various acting methods and her triumphant performances, and our robot absorbed every word.

“But why do you pretend to be something you are not?” said the robot.

“Because it’s fun!” said the opossum. “And because it helps me survive, as you just saw. You never know, it might help you survive too.”

Soon, the robot’s computer brain was humming with activity. 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. Yes, this was an excellent plan.

Roz wasted no time and spoke her next words in the friendliest voice she could muster. “Madam marsupial, it would be a great honor and absolute privilege if you would kindly inform me of your name.” Roz’s friendly demeanor needed some work, but it was a start.

“Yes, of course!” said the opossum. “My name is Pinktail. And you are?”

Leaves gently shook as Roz climbed down from the tree. “It is a very lovely pleasure to make your acquaintance, my dear Pinktail.” A moment later, the robot stepped into the moonlight. “My name is Roz.”

“Oh my!” the opossum gasped. “You’re the m-m-monster!”

“I am not a monster. I am a robot. And I am harmless.”