Consider this — a worm robot that burrows through the top layer of soil and is capable of converting it into additional modular segments of itself as quickly as possible. With an efficiency of just 1%, a worm with a 1 cm maw that tunnels through a 100 meters of earth every hour would be able to process roughly 0.785 cc of earth per hour or 1,884 cc (115 cu in) per day. Assuming 7.85 cc of soil is needed to build one robotic segment 1 cm long, we get a growth rate of 0.1 cm per hour or 2.4 cm (1 in) per day. Nothing shocking, really, but the numbers are contrived to be conservative. If the worms could divide (which would be possible if each segment or a small row of segments can be self-sustaining), then exponential replication could quickly overwhelm an ecosystem even if the growth rate is relatively slow. I doubt many predators would be interested in consuming a robot.

Why brainstorm worm robots? Well, the worm motif seems very popular in evolution, and is shared by a number of different evolutionary lineages. The worm body type is the precursor from which all bilateral and complex animals evolved! (Only cnidarians and sponges didn’t evolve from worms.) The body cavity inherent in the worm body plan provides a number of benefits that others have been over many times. So, it makes sense that a worm robot might be one of the earliest macroscopic self-replicating robots that could thrive in nature.

Where would such worms get food? The same way that regular worms do, by eating other organisms, just like that insidious fly-eating robot that was developed in 2004.

The worm robot starting point brings up a number of interesting observations and questions. First, how much of a threat could these little buggers be to an ecosystem? Of course, it depends on the growth rate and how well the robot fares in competition with the natives. But let us consider the bare minimum necessary to be an annoyance.

First off, the worm robot can prove to be a major nuisance by making sure to convert the earth into something difficult for other organisms to break down. There are probably several million types of microbes in a typical tonne of earth, but if they all fail to break something down, then it is likely to remain for a very long time. There are many examples of this decomposition-resistance in nature, notably the sponge, which defends itself not so much by aggressive means but by its manifest lack of nutritious value relative to other organisms and the caltrops-shaped calcareous or siliceous spicules that it embeds itself with. Relative to defenses that a human engineer might conjure up by probing the supra-organic design space, this is pretty boring, but it has worked for over 600 million years.

Still, without getting into anything complicated, note that significantly compressing a unit of earth would probably be enough to lower its palatability to microorganisms by a significant margin. Passing around energy currency in a form that bacteria and archaea can’t digest (i.e., not glucose or sucrose) could also potentially circumvent most efforts at consumption. Processing the earth into a state whereby an exoskeleton and set of crude membranes can physically exclude microorganisms, accompanied by local microbicidal action at interfaces, could likely make the robot much more difficult to break down, both in action and when deactivated. By thinking outside the boundaries inherent to natural biology, robotics engineers will be able to create new “species” of life capable of shoving aside obstacles and continuing on their merry way.

The problem of such robots for nature-lovers is the way that they’d entirely destroy the environment. One day, lush Amazon Rainforest, three years later, a writhing mass of robotic worms and over a million extinct species. One 1-kg worm robot that reproduces just once every ten days could convert itself into 67 billion of the little monsters (67 million tonnes worth) in just a year. Especially if it intertwined itself with the ecosystem, the only way to kill all of them would be to nuke the whole damn place. Building hunter-killer worm robots wouldn’t work, because by the time they were deployed, the original worm robots would have a major advantage.

Implausible, you might say? Negative. Rudimentary worm robots have already been built, and the chemical reactions necessary to convert soil organisms into energy-storing molecules are widely known. All that would be required are advances in MEMS (no molecular manufacturing needed) that allow the worm to distribute nutrients throughout its body and build new segments effectively. In mollusks (as well as worms), the simplest “complex” organisms, cilia are used as an all-purpose mechanism for ferrying nutrients about the body and waste out the anus. Looking at the contemporary lower mollusks, along with their ancestors in the small shelly fauna, one can see that the “concept of a mollusk” is simple at its essence, but it works very well. When the enabling technology is present, these designs will be copied by roboticists with interdisciplinary knowledge in biology.

The only way I can even begin to imagine to address such problems is universal transparency and inbuilt safeguards on all “3D printers” ever manufactured. Of course, there will always be those with excessive confidence in nature to repel synthetic threats (even though microbes can’t eat plastic), and to those folks this won’t be an issue, but to others, it inspires cause for worry. (Another objection would be the even more inane, “why would someone do this?”) It may be a matter of trading privacy for security, a pill many find hard to swallow, but I think the events and pundits of the future will have an answer for you — too damn bad.