The Mk. IV was an impressive machine-man. At least that's what Dr. Risk had called it. He attached the "man" for publicity and for its obvious appearance. Best of all, the Mk. III's peculiar flaw of questioning commands seemed to be fixed with the Mk. IV.
Strong, fast, and sleek (by the robotics standards of the very early 20th century) the Mk. IV had a capacity to collect, store, and compute more information than could be imagined by most of the population.
The Hudson Mk. IV, or "Mark", as Dr. Risk affectionately called him, had stood motionless in place for almost 50 years now. His self-lubing body took care to keep the elements from destroying his form as he stood. Only the occasional "metal snow" storms of mercury and galena, harmed him, though he calculated that he could stand another 69 years before irreparable damage was done.
Though he could not move, Mark's CPU still hummed along nicely, collecting and storing the data all around him. When not collecting information on his environment, the Mk. IV emotionlessly reflected on his predicament.
Standing ankle-deep on a jade-green silicon beach, a few dozen yards away from a boiling sea, Mark bided his time. Boredom (or madness) did not affect him. All he needed was for someone or some "thing" (Mark had "encountered" several lifeforms in the last 50 years after all) to either power up his battery pack, or initiate the Mk. IV's exploration routines, or both.
Now for the first time in several years, Mark felt lifeforms close by once more.