Robot Wrangler Roy and the Silent Harvest
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Robot Wrangler Roy and the Silent Harvest
Letto da:
AI Voice Marcus
Acquista ora a 11,24 €
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Letto da:
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AI Voice Marcus
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Di:
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August Mae
Questo titolo è stato narrato da una voce virtuale
La voce virtuale è generata da un computer, e viene utilizzata per la narrazione degli audiolibri.
Some troubles can't be rebooted. They have to be understood.
Out along the Scatter, a loose chain of half-tamed worlds strung on the old trade routes, there is always a machine in trouble that nobody else knows how to help. That is where Roy comes in. He is a robot wrangler: not the man who wipes and scraps and reboots, but the one you send for when a machine has gone strange, gone quiet, or gone unwanted, and somebody has to find out why before anyone does something that can't be undone.
He works out of The Marigold, an old, faded, much-mended barge that is home to as odd and dear a found family as the frontier has ever floated. There is Bart, the gloriously gloomy robot Roy once wrangled and simply kept, who would prefer not to get his hopes up and loves them all the harder for it. There is Mungo, a big, soft, mossy-green alien whose appetite is exceeded only by his accidental wisdom. There is Pip, a fizzing young engineer-pilot who leaps a good half-second before she looks. And there is Hessa, the old alien matriarch who keeps the galley, the ledger, and the heart of the ship, and runs the lot of them sideways, by feeding them.
At Cobb's Reach, the whole fleet has stopped.
Not broken down. Stopped. Dozens of field units standing motionless in the ochre rows, unharmed, patient, every one of them turned the same way like grass leaning into a wind nobody can feel. The harvest that pays the town's debts is days from ruin, the dry season is coming on, and the weary foreman, Della Marsh, has hired a wrangler to do the obvious thing: wipe the lot and set them walking again by sundown.
But Roy knows a glitch when he sees one, and this is no glitch. A whole fleet does not sit down at once, in the same posture, in the same breath, by accident. That takes agreement. These machines have chosen their silence, and there is something they are waiting for, something the town can't see and won't like.
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