The Night of the Storm – Koontz, Dean

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THE NIGHT OF THE STORM By Dean R. Koontz HE WAS A ROBOT MORE THAN A

HUNDRED YEARS OLD, BUILT BY OTHER robots in an automated factory that had been

continuously engaged in the production of robots for many centuries. His

name was Curanov, and as was the custom of his kind, he roamed the earth in

search of interesting things to do. Curanov had climbed the highest mountains

in the world, with the aid of special body attachments (spikes in his metal

feet, tiny but strong hooks on the ends of his twelve fingers, an emergency

grappling rope coiled inside his chest-area storage compartment and ready for

a swift ejection if he should fall); his small, antigravity flight motors were

removed to make the climb as dangerous and, therefore, as interesting as

possible. Having submitted to heavy-duty component-sealing procedures, Curanov

had once spent eighteen months under water, exploring a large portion of the

Pacific Ocean, until he was bored even by the mating of whales and by the

ever-shifting beauty of the sea bottom. Curanov had crossed deserts, explored

the Arctic Circle on foot, gone spelunking in countless different subterranean