But when I tried to keep moving, my foot would not budge. I looked down. Understanding spread through my circuitry.

My ankle was stuck in the track.

I yanked my foot. Jostled it. Rotated it.

Nothing worked.

I was unable to move forward.

Or back.

The oncoming train barreled toward me. I did not need complex calculations. Or sophisticated programming. I did not need algorithms or probabilities or advanced technology to understand what was about to happen.

The train was going to hit me.

00111001

KA-BOOOM!

The impact knocked me off my feet. Into the air. Obliterating my settings. Overwhelming my sensors.

The world was a wild blur.

Noise/Motion/Spinning/Chaos/Flinging/Falling/Crashing.

I hit the ground hard. I could hear the sound of metal scraping concrete as I skidded sideways. And somehow, throughout all this—

I remained alive.

And in one piece.

How was that possible? The train was far too big/powerful/fast. I ran 1,745 hypothetical impact scenarios. I survived in zero of them. And yet—I felt the train slam into me. Felt it knock me into the air.

I lay on the ground for another second, confused. Then, experimentally, I raised my arm. My leg. I wiggled my toes. My fingers. Everything seemed to work just fine.

But . . . how?

The question rattled around like a marble inside my brain.

I lifted my head and looked around. That is when I saw Ceeron. Crouched next to me. And all at once, I understood.

I was not hit by a train.

I was hit by a Ceeron.

The massive robot must have slammed into me. Knocking my foot loose. Sending me flying. Crashing hard against the concrete.

Climbing to my knees, I placed a hand on Ceeron’s shoulder. “You saved me!” I had to speak at maximum volume to make myself heard over the howling train. “Thank you . . .”

Friend

There was that word again. Echoing in my mind. But I could not bring myself to say it out loud.

“It was a close shaving.” I could barely hear Ceeron’s voice above the sound of the train. “I am glad you are okay!”

“So are we!” Emma said.

SkD skidded to a halt beside her, chirping and poking me with its clawed hand as images appeared on its screen.

I nodded. “Yes, I am okay. But we should get moving. We do not want to be here when the train passes.”

Emma climbed into Ceeron’s backpack and we set off again. Moving quickly between tracks and shipping containers, trains and blinking machinery, we watched/listened for any sign of other robots.

When we reached the edge of the depot, we kept moving.

When the rumble of machinery faded away, we kept moving.

When every sign of robotic civilization was replaced by wilderness, we kept moving.

00111010

“This should be far enough.” I gazed back. The TrainDepot was nothing more than a pale dot in the distance. “Emma will be safe here.”