reached out and tagged her.
Celeste turned back and Polly dropped again. This time Celeste stopped midway and rolled back the way she’d came. Polly was confused, hopping up and reaching forward while Celeste tagged her from behind.
“Score!” Penny shouted.
“She’s not supposed to change directions!” I said.
“I made some changes,” said Penny. “I wanted it to be fair.”
I remembered what Rolf said about adapting to what theprogrammer didn’t expect. If Polly had been programmed that way, she’d figure out Celeste’s trick and change her own behavior. But she couldn’t, and Celeste won the contest three to one.
The boxy robot raised her wire arms in victory.
“What the—she can’t do that!” I said.
“I’ve been making all kinds of changes,” said Penny.
The science fair was on Wednesday. We had the regular part of the fair first, where people could come by and see the robot and ask questions. Oliver had thrown together the poster and report—our hypothesis was something about the new-era robot parts.
“Where did you get these?” one of the judges asked, squinting at the polymer legs.
“An old colleague of my dad’s,” Oliver admitted.
“Hmm. Well, it’s certainly remarkable,” the judge said. I had a feeling we’d just lost points for having an inside connection, but I didn’t care if we won the science fair. I was only interested in the battle at the end of it. I wanted to see how Polly would do in a competition, and even more than that, I wanted to see Rocky’s face when she saw Polly.
Our display was popular, and neither of us was able to sneak away and see Dmitri and Rocky’s robot. We didn’t get a chance until the contest. We’d guessed correctly—it was something between an otter and a car. The front two-thirds of a model car had been hinged to the back two-thirds ofanother, making a stretch limo that could gyrate. The robot’s head had a snapping hood-mouth with nails for teeth; the tail had a peaked fin swinging a tiny wrecking ball. It looked more like an alligator than an otter, but I knew what they were going for.
When Rocky saw the octopus, I didn’t see even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She had a good poker face.
We used a corner of the gym for the contest, with no official ring or borders. A kid used an app on his phone as the timer. It rang like a boxing bell, and the match was under way.
The alligator came at our octopus and proved to be quicker and more agile than it looked, twisting wildly, the jaw chomping and gnashing, the tail swinging threateningly. It was a cool robot, but it wasn’t well programmed. They’d just pointed it in the right direction and hoped for the best.
The match didn’t last long. Polly sensed a danger was coming and collapsed. The gator started to roll over her and triggered a sensor on her head. She kicked up and skittered away, sending the other robot tumbling. It landed on its back and kicked, helpless as a turtle. The crowd clapped a little, but I could tell they were disappointed. They wanted more of a fight.
Polly decided it was safe and crept closer to finish the job. This was the toughest part of the program, for me—knowing when the opponent was helpless. Polly could trackthe other robot and know when it wasn’t moving, but she would be in trouble if it was playing possum. I’d need to improve that before the next competition.
Since Polly was a lightweight robot, she couldn’t really pack a punch. Her only real weapon was herself, leaping up and tossing her opponent like a sumo wrestler. Practically everything I could think of as a weapon was against the rules—flame, projectiles, electric charges, or globs of glue. But Oliver’s mom had given me an idea. Polly ran circles around the gator, spraying loops and whorls of fishing line. The gator did get one good lick in, a random swing of its spiked tail catching one of Polly’s legs. There was a raucous hooray from the crowd, who were thirsty for
Celeste turned back and Polly dropped again. This time Celeste stopped midway and rolled back the way she’d came. Polly was confused, hopping up and reaching forward while Celeste tagged her from behind.
“Score!” Penny shouted.
“She’s not supposed to change directions!” I said.
“I made some changes,” said Penny. “I wanted it to be fair.”
I remembered what Rolf said about adapting to what theprogrammer didn’t expect. If Polly had been programmed that way, she’d figure out Celeste’s trick and change her own behavior. But she couldn’t, and Celeste won the contest three to one.
The boxy robot raised her wire arms in victory.
“What the—she can’t do that!” I said.
“I’ve been making all kinds of changes,” said Penny.
The science fair was on Wednesday. We had the regular part of the fair first, where people could come by and see the robot and ask questions. Oliver had thrown together the poster and report—our hypothesis was something about the new-era robot parts.
“Where did you get these?” one of the judges asked, squinting at the polymer legs.
“An old colleague of my dad’s,” Oliver admitted.
“Hmm. Well, it’s certainly remarkable,” the judge said. I had a feeling we’d just lost points for having an inside connection, but I didn’t care if we won the science fair. I was only interested in the battle at the end of it. I wanted to see how Polly would do in a competition, and even more than that, I wanted to see Rocky’s face when she saw Polly.
Our display was popular, and neither of us was able to sneak away and see Dmitri and Rocky’s robot. We didn’t get a chance until the contest. We’d guessed correctly—it was something between an otter and a car. The front two-thirds of a model car had been hinged to the back two-thirds ofanother, making a stretch limo that could gyrate. The robot’s head had a snapping hood-mouth with nails for teeth; the tail had a peaked fin swinging a tiny wrecking ball. It looked more like an alligator than an otter, but I knew what they were going for.
When Rocky saw the octopus, I didn’t see even a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She had a good poker face.
We used a corner of the gym for the contest, with no official ring or borders. A kid used an app on his phone as the timer. It rang like a boxing bell, and the match was under way.
The alligator came at our octopus and proved to be quicker and more agile than it looked, twisting wildly, the jaw chomping and gnashing, the tail swinging threateningly. It was a cool robot, but it wasn’t well programmed. They’d just pointed it in the right direction and hoped for the best.
The match didn’t last long. Polly sensed a danger was coming and collapsed. The gator started to roll over her and triggered a sensor on her head. She kicked up and skittered away, sending the other robot tumbling. It landed on its back and kicked, helpless as a turtle. The crowd clapped a little, but I could tell they were disappointed. They wanted more of a fight.
Polly decided it was safe and crept closer to finish the job. This was the toughest part of the program, for me—knowing when the opponent was helpless. Polly could trackthe other robot and know when it wasn’t moving, but she would be in trouble if it was playing possum. I’d need to improve that before the next competition.
Since Polly was a lightweight robot, she couldn’t really pack a punch. Her only real weapon was herself, leaping up and tossing her opponent like a sumo wrestler. Practically everything I could think of as a weapon was against the rules—flame, projectiles, electric charges, or globs of glue. But Oliver’s mom had given me an idea. Polly ran circles around the gator, spraying loops and whorls of fishing line. The gator did get one good lick in, a random swing of its spiked tail catching one of Polly’s legs. There was a raucous hooray from the crowd, who were thirsty for
Similar Books
