Weekly Short Story: Hunting Machine by Carol Emshwiller

A while back I used to be strongly anti-hunting, but over the years as I discussed the activity with different friends who were enthusiasts, I came to respect their viewpoints without feeling the remotest desire to engage in it myself. When I first read Carol Emshiller's 1957 short, short story titled Hunting Machine...which appeared in the anthology Isaac Asimov Presents The Great SF Stories 19 (1957) (DAW Books) more than 25 years ago, I saw it only in terms of condemning the sport.  Now upon rereading it, I see a much broader application to what I believe the author was trying to express...

Joe and Ruthie McAlister are city folks a little to the future of our time.  They're out in the country, determined to have a hunting adventure...but how much of an adventure can it really be with an advanced robotic hunting dog that far surpasses the sensory capabilities of the animals it is pursuing.  And the couple's guns are nearly self-operating, presupposing little to no skill on the part of their users.  They have taken the conveniences of home with them and are letting "Rover" find and chase down their final target: a 1,500 lb. bear.  As this short story approaches its ending, the author describes in gory, graphic detail what happens when they catch up with the bear...and then the reactions of Joe and Ruthie to it all afterwards...

Whether it's fishing or bicycling or bowling...or hunting, or any other activity, it seems that many of those engaging in them are being pressured to buy high-tech equipment to enhance their conquests or scores...doesn't that kind of defeat the whole point of "sport"?  I used to ride a bicycle around town...I made the 16-mile round trip to and from work on bikes that I picked up from Wal-Mart or Target for less than a hundred bucks...nothing special.  One morning I was riding home...almost there...from my graveyard shift when I stopped at a red light and three other bicyclists pulled up beside me.  Two were grown men and one was a teenage girl...they were all dressed up like bicycle club members and their bicycles looked like they'd invested an enormous amount of money to get them.  The girl looked over at me and derisively sneered, "Nice bike".  I answered, "Have a nice day" as the light changed and the three went off ahead of me, all most assuredly very self-satisfied with their bicycling superiority.  I thought that if this arrogant pride (or is it insecurity?) is what motivates people to spend so much money to enhance their activities and make them look better to others, then I want no part in it.  Joe and Ruthie McAlister seemed to have similar motivations in Carol Emshiller's brutal, eye-opening tale...