The Wild Robot

CHAPTER 43 THE GOSLING TAKES OFF

It must be hard to have a robot for a mother. I think the hardest part for Brightbill was all the mystery that surrounded Roz. Where had she come from? What was it like to be a robot? Would she always be there for him?

These questions filled the gosling’s mind, and his feelings for his mother swung between love and confusion and anger. I’m sure many of you know what that’s like. Roz could sense that Brightbill was struggling, and so she spent a lot of time talking with him about families and geese and robots.

“There are other robots on the island?” said the gosling during one of their talks. He’d been sitting beside his mother in the garden, but now stood and faced her.

“Yes, there are others on the island,” said Roz, “but they are inoperative.”

“Inoperative?”

“For a robot, being inoperative is like being dead.”

“Where are the dead robots?”

“They are on the northern shore.”

“I want to see them!”

“I do not think that is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You are still a gosling. You are too young to see dead robots. I will take you to see them when you are older.”

“Mama, I’m not a gosling anymore!” Brightbill puffed out his chest. “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!”

Roz stood, and her long shadow fell across her son. The gosling could feel his emotions swinging wildly. And for a moment he was actually afraid of his own mother. Without thinking, he sprinted toward the pond, beat his wings, and flew away.

CHAPTER 44 THE RUNAWAY

“Your son will be fine,” said Loudwing. “You know how they are at this age.”

“I do not know,” said Roz. “Please tell me how they are at this age.”

“Oh, right. Well, Brightbill is growing up fast. It’s only natural for adolescent goslings to be a little… moody. He just needs to be alone for a while. You’ve raised a wonderful son. I know he’ll come home soon. Try not to worry.”

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.

There was only one place Brightbill could have gone. The robot gravesite. So Roz galloped northward. She leaped over rocks and ducked under branches and charged through meadows without ever slowing her pace. She raced all the way across the island until she finally stepped onto the sea cliffs above the gravesite.

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. “It is only natural for goslings your age to be a little… moody.”

“Mama, I need to understand what you are. And I think it might help to see those other robots.”

“You are right—it might help. Why are you not down there?”

“I was about to go,” said Brightbill, “but I got nervous. I want you to go with me.”

“Let us go down there,” said Roz. “Together.”