The Wild Robot Escapes

An uncomfortable question popped into Jaya's mind. "Roz, don't take this the wrong way," she began, "but is it possible that you are defective?" "Don't say that, Jaya!" cried her brother. "No, it is okay," said the robot. "I have asked myself that same question. I do not feel defective. I feel . . . different. Is being different the same as being defective?" "I don't think so," said Jaya. "Or else we're all a little defective.

Reader, there's another important quality that children possess. In addition to being sneaky and smart, they're also compassionate. Children care about others, and about the world.

If you love your job it never feels like work,

Oscar ran after them, barking, “Is that food? It smells like food! I want food!

I feel… different. Is being different the same as being defective?” “I don’t think so,” said Jaya. “Or else we’re all a little defective.

We needed you to save this place.

but we didn’t need a robot until my wife died.” Those last words hung in the air for a while.

Of course I’ll be okay,” the cow panted. “I’m old, but I’m feisty. Those wolves don’t scare me.

I do not feel defective. I feel... different. Is being different the same as being defective?" "I don't think so," said Jaya. "Or else we're all a little defective.

No wilderness for me

Loudwing with a smile. The geese waved good-bye to Roz and their new farm

siblings stood in the driveway, defeated. “We give up, Roz!” shouted Jad. “You win!” shouted Jaya. The junk pile beside the barn started moving, and Roz appeared. The robot had been sitting there all along, perfectly camouflaged among the scrap metal and old farm machines. “The next time we play, you have to let one of us win,” said Jaya to Roz. And the next time they

Broken-down farm machines and piles of junk were strewn across the grounds. Thick tangles of brush were creeping in from the edges of the property.

Every problem has a peaceful solution. Violence is unnecessary.

the hazy distance, enormous barns loomed above the plains. The

across the stubbly fields. The cows and the humans spent hot days indoors. Only when the sun set and the air began to cool would they venture outside. The herd strolled out to graze under the stars, the children ran out to chase fireflies, and sometimes even Mr. Shareef stepped out to stretch his stiff legs. Trees swished in

I’ll just say that on any given day, Roz might have to be a mechanic or a veterinarian or a gardener or a plumber or a cleaner or a landscaper or a carpenter or an electrician, or all of the above.

she was searching for a way to escape. Everything hinged on

If you love your job it never feels like work,” she’d say, smiling and strolling out the door.

THE CITY Our story begins in a city, with buildings and streets and bridges and parks. Humans were strolling, automobiles were driving, airships were flying, robots were hard at work. Weaving through the city streets was a delivery truck. The truck knew where to go, and how to get there, all by itself. It pulled up to a construction site and automatically unloaded some crates. A few more turns and it unloaded more crates down at the docks. The truck zigged and zagged across the city, delivering crates as it went, and then it merged onto a highway. Cars and buses and trucks were cruising along the highway together. But as the delivery truck continued, the traffic became lighter, the buildings became smaller, and the landscape became greener. With nothing but open road ahead, the truck accelerated to its top speed. The landscape outside was now just a green blur, occasionally broken by a flicker of gray as a town flew past. On and on the delivery truck went, racing over long bridges, shooting through mountain tunnels, gliding down straight stretches of highway, until it started to slow. It drifted from the fast lane to the exit lane, and then it rolled down a ramp and into farm country. Clouds of dust billowed up behind the truck as it drove past fields and fences. In the hazy distance, enormous barns loomed above the plains. The air was thick with the smells of soil and livestock. Robot crews methodically worked the crops and fed the animals and operated the massive farm machines. A hill gradually climbed into view. The hill was crowned with

In the wilderness, I camouflaged my body to survive. In the robot factory I camouflaged my personality to survive. I pretended to be a perfectly normal robot. I did not say that I had adopted a goose, or that I could speak with animals, or that I had resisted the RECOs. I said what I had to say to pass the test. And it worked.

Perhaps I should stay in the barn with the cows,” said Roz. “My whole world now revolves around them.

This is a dairy farm,

Tess is right,” said Roz. “I may never make it home. If I were a bird, like my son, I could fly home all on my own, anytime I wanted. But I am only a robot.

have asked myself that same question. I do not feel defective. I feel … different. Is being different the same as being defective?” “I don’t think so,” said Jaya. “Or else we’re all a little defective.

but we didn’t need a robot until my wife died.

The man reached down and pressed an important little button on the back of the robot’s head. Click.