CHAPTER 52 THE FLOCK
Brightbill slowly waddled into the Nest. He had a confused look on his face.
“Mama? The other goslings said that we have to leave the island soon, and we won’t return for months and months. Is that true?”
“That is true,” said Roz. “You know that geese migrate south for the winter.”
“Will you migrate with us?” said Brightbill.
“I cannot fly or swim, so I will spend the winter here on the island.”
“Can I stay with you?”
“I do not think that is a good idea. I think you should migrate with the flock.”
“How long will the migration take?” said Brightbill. “Where will we fly? When will we come home?”
“I do not know,” said Roz. “Let us go ask the others.”
And so the robot and the gosling walked around the pond, to where Loudwing and her friends were chatting. “Hello, everyone,” said Roz. “Brightbill has some questions about the flock’s upcoming winter migration.”
“And we’d be happy to answer them!” said Loudwing. “What would you like to know, little one?”
“How long will the migration take?” said Brightbill. “Where will we fly? When will we come home?”
“It’ll take us a couple of weeks to fly south,” said Loudwing, “depending on the weather.”
“We’ll join other flocks at a beautiful lake in the middle of a great, sprawling field,” said another goose.
“And we’ll come back to the island after four or five months,” said someone else, “depending on the weather.”
As they walked back to the Nest, Brightbill said to his mother, “Lately I’ve been feeling this strong urge to fly. Not just around the pond or the island, but to go on a long flight. A journey.”
“Those are your instincts,” said the robot. “All animals have instincts. They help you survive.”
“Do you have instincts?” said the gosling.
“I do have instincts. They help me survive also.”
“My instincts are definitely telling me to fly south for the winter,” said Brightbill. “I just wish you could join us. I’m going to worry about you while I’m away.”
“Do not worry. I will be fine,” said Roz. “How bad could winter be?”
CHAPTER 53 THE MIGRATION
It was the night before the migration, and Brightbill was sleeping fitfully. Roz watched him toss and turn until he finally crawled up into her arms, and she rocked him to sleep, just like the old days.
Early the next morning, Brightbill waddled outside and looked at the pond. The water was perfectly still. A few lazy clouds drifted above. Geese were already gathering by the beach. And then tiny claws scampered down from the treetops.
“So today’s the day huh?” said Chitchat, perched on a branch. “You’re going to see so many new things and meet so many new animals and if there are any squirrels at your wintering grounds please tell them that Chitchat says hello!”
“Today is the day,” said Brightbill. “The flock will be leaving soon.”
“Are you excited or nervous or scared?”
“I’m all of those things.”
The squirrel whispered, “Well don’t worry about your mother I’ll look after her so you know she’ll be perfectly fine.”
Brightbill smiled.
“I am afraid it is time to go,” said Roz as she stepped out of the Nest.
“Okay, Mama,” said the gosling. “See you in the spring, Chitchat!”
“Have a nice migration Brightbill!” The squirrel scampered back into the treetops. “Come home with lots of exciting stories but not too exciting because I don’t want anything scary to happen to you good-bye!”
The geese were honking with excitement and hustling around as they made their final preparations. Several of the fathers huddled together, discussing their flight plans, while the mothers took a head count.
“There you are, Brightbill!” Loudwing honked from the middle of the crowd. “We’re just about to begin!”
“May I have your attention, please!” said the biggest goose. “As most of you know, my name is Longneck, and I’ll be leading this year’s migration. I’m asking everyone to please join your families for takeoff. Once we’re all airborne, each family will take its position in our V formation, and we’ll start the first leg of our journey. Are there any questions?”
“I have a question,” came a booming voice. “My son will not have any family with him. Where does he fit into the formation?”
Everyone turned to Longneck.
“He can fly with me,” said the big goose. “I hear Brightbill is a very clever flier—I could use his help at the point.”
A moment later, the geese began flapping and honking and making their way into the air. A cloud of feathers floated down around the robot and her son.
“You are not a gosling anymore,” said Roz. “I am proud of the fine young goose you have become.”
Brightbill fluttered up to his mother’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Mama.” The young goose wiped his eyes. “Is this where we say good-bye?”
“This is where we say good-bye for now. Spring will soon be here, and we will be together again.”
“I’m going to miss you,” said Brightbill as he nuzzled his mother.
“I am going to miss you too,” said Roz as she nuzzled her son.
The goose took a deep breath. Then he shook his tail feathers, flapped his wings, and joined the flock.
At first, the geese flew in a disorganized jumble. But each goose slowly drifted into position until the flock formed a wobbly V. At the lead was Longneck, and behind his left wing was Brightbill. They circled in the sky until the V pointed south, and then the geese began their long migration. Roz climbed to the top of a tree and watched as the flock slowly faded into the horizon.
CHAPTER 54 THE WINTER
The island was quiet. The migratory birds had all left, the hibernators were asleep, and everyone else had begun their simple winter routines. Everyone but Roz. Now that she was alone, our robot didn’t know what to do with herself. She stood in her gray garden and watched a sheet of ice slowly form on the pond. Sometimes she could hear her good friends the beavers going about their business beneath the ice, and she wondered when she would see them again.
Roz stood there until snowflakes started drifting down from the sky. The flakes swirled in the breeze and slowly piled up on the ground and on the trees and on the robot. So she crouched into the Nest, slid the stone door behind her, and sat in darkness.
Hours, and days, and weeks went by without the robot moving. She had no need to move; she felt perfectly safe in the Nest. And so, in her own way, the robot hibernated.
Roz’s body relaxed.
Her quiet whirring slowly stopped.
Her eyes faded to black.
She probably could have spent centuries like that, hibernating in total darkness. But the robot’s hibernation was suddenly interrupted when a shaft of sunlight fell upon her face and carried energy back to her empty battery.
Roz’s body tensed.
Her quiet whirring slowly started.
Her eyes began to glow.
“Hello, I am ROZZUM unit 7134, but you may call me Roz,” the robot said automatically.
When all her systems were up and running again, Roz noticed that she was surrounded by broken branches and piles of snow. The roof of the Nest had caved in, and the lodge was now flooded with sunlight. Roz felt more energized with each passing minute. But she also felt cold. Her joints felt stiff and brittle, and her thinking was slow. So she got up, cleared a spot on the floor, and made a fire. The snow inside the Nest began to melt and the robot’s sensors began to thaw, and when she was ready, she climbed out through the hole in the roof and into a bright, foreign landscape.