Packer robots were, to quote Howard, an Archaeologist’s best friend. They were sturdy, good-old-fashioned transporters of all things in boxes and knew a thing or two about packing.
They had been around for ages, and although slow—like turtle-slow—they did pretty much what they were told, carried a ton, and always delivered their cargo intact.
The packer robots could carry boxes on their heads, strapped to their backs, in their pockets, and piled up in their hands; they could push packed-up trolleys like they were in a true duty-free airport passage, even through inches of mud. They were the transport elephants of Africa, the camels of the desert, the backpack of a backpacker, and the trolley of the supermarket all rolled into one.
To them, packing was an art that had Howard sighing Ther
