A robot’s claw hurtles toward a light bulb on a table. I wince, waiting for the crunch. But suddenly the claw decelerates. It starts gingerly pawing around the table, as if searching for its glasses on the nightstand. It gently positions the bulb between its two pincers. The bulb rolls away. The claw goes chasing it across the table. After a few nips, the bulb is back in its grasp. The robot swiftly screws the bulb into a nearby socket, illuminating its work area.
In more than a decade of writing about robots, I have never seen one move so naturally. Most are ham-fisted klutzes, even when remotely controlled by
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