I’ve always been fascinated by robots. By the real robots that exist today, by the robots that will exist in the future, and by the fantastic robot characters that exist only in books and films. It’s funny how many philosophical questions spring up when we think about artificial beings. Do we want robots that can think and feel, like a person? Would we trust robots to perform surgery, care for children, or police our cities? In a world where robots did all the work, how would we humans spend our time?
I’m also fascinated by the natural world. I grew up exploring the fields and streams and forests near my home, and I learned a lot about the local wildlife. I knew that deer were most active at dawn and dusk. I watched squirrels methodically collecting and storing acorns. I heard geese honking overhead as they flew south every autumn.
Animals have such predictable behavior, and follow such rigid routines, that at times they seem almost… robotic. And somewhere along the line it occurred to me that animal instincts are kind of like computer programs. Thanks to their instincts, animals automatically run from danger, build nests, and stay close to their families, and they often do these things without thinking, as if they’ve been programmed to perform specific actions at specific times. Surprisingly, wild animals and robots actually have some things in common.
These kinds of thoughts have filled my imagination for most of my life. And then, a few years ago, I started scribbling down words about a robot and some wild animals. I couldn’t stop doodling pictures of a robot in a tree. I started asking myself odd questions. What would an intelligent robot do if she were stranded in the wilderness? How might she adapt to the environment? How might the environment adapt to her? Why am I referring to this robot with words like “she” and “her”? And for that matter, why have so many science-fiction writers given genders to so many of their robot characters?
An image of a robot named Roz was slowly forming in my mind. I could see her exploring a remote island. I could hear her communicating with wild animals. I could feel her becoming part of the wilderness. And after years of imagining and writing and drawing, I realized I had all the ingredients for a robot nature story. So I drove out to a cabin in the woods, opened up a fresh notebook, and began working on The Wild Robot.