“You're not convincing me, Sir.”
“Just get on with it.” White lifted his stick and poked the robot. It's inactive, look. It didn't react at all.”
“Or just didn't feel the need. Perhaps this is the equivalent of confronting a tank with a helium balloon.”
“Maybe.” White took a step back and rubbed at his beard stubble with one hand. “Have you noticed anything odd about this robot, Sergeant?”
“Other than it's seven feet tall broke out of a stone tomb, you mean? No.”
“It's got no joints.”
“You're right. That's weird. Perhaps they're just seamless.”
“But we'd see the seams, surely? Some line where the knees bend, for example. And look at those hands. No obvious signs of manipulative ability, yet we clearly observed it carrying a box of computer parts.”
“Perhaps it's a skin with the working joints beneath it like a cloth over a puppet.”
“Damned funny cloth if you ask me.” White rapped the metal figure with his knuckles again. “What cloth sounds like metal and doesn't have any give in it?”
“Perhaps it's a...Whoa! Watch out, sir.” Peters caught hold of White's arm and dragged him backwards as the robot jerked into motion. It set off and a slow walk toward the hiker's path then turned left, crashing through the simple fence as it it were matchsticks.
White shook off his sergeant's grip. “I'm fine. Don't just stand there gawking. Get after it.”
If looks could kill, White would have been a smear on the grass, thanks to the expression on Peters's face. White chuckled softly and set off after them both.