Daybreak, and the storm had passed, but the sounds of water were everywhere. The air was filled with the dripping sounds of mountain runoff and the sloshing sounds of flooded streams. And then came a very different sound. It was the clanging sound made when a robot slips on a wet rock. There were quite a few clangs that morning.
As Roz worked her way downhill, she scanned the aftermath of the storm. Giant mounds of mud and debris had formed below the cliffs. The island’s central river had crested its banks and spilled into the nearby fields and forests. Some trees had been uprooted. Others were submerged, their upper branches barely poking above the floodwaters, their lower branches swarming with fish instead of birds.
After such a storm, you might expect to see animal corpses scattered among all the devastation. But the animals seemed to have survived just fine. Somehow, they had known the storm was coming, and they had found shelter long before it rolled in. Lowland creatures, who had sought refuge on higher ground, were waiting patiently for the water to recede. Deer were wading through the flooded fields. Beavers were busily collecting a trove of fallen branches. Geese honked in the sky before splashing down into a watery section of the forest.
Clearly, the animals were experts at survival.
Clearly, the robot was not.
Roz was crusted with mud and grit, so she gave herself another good cleaning, but that only revealed her dents and scratches. They were really starting to add up. She hardly resembled the perfect robot who had appeared on the shore just a week earlier.
The wilderness was taking a toll on poor Roz. So she felt something like relief when she spotted the quiet hole in the side of the mountain. It looked like a safe place for a robot. She stomped across the hillside and up to the cave, but never stopped to wonder what might be lurking within.