MEGA MAN: GUIDING RAINBOW'S LIGHT

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

Chapter Fourteen: The Last Chair

"If people reach perfection, they vanish, you know." –King Arthur, The Ill Made Knight

Project SKYLIGHT

July 25th, 2059 C.E.

A transport flotilla, filled to the brim with old and long decayed communications satellites, worn out solar panels, frozen human waste, and even a few screws, flew up into SKYLIGHT's materials processing center. It was one of the newer facilities on the dorsal side of SKYLIGHT's core, and was fed a direct power line from the station's fusion generators.

A simple, but sad fact of things was that the Rainbow could not launch all the raw materials needed to make SKYLIGHT on the project deadlines that had been set. Murges' "Harvesting" program had been the solution. Space transports flew down from SKYLIGHT to low earth orbit and collected bits and pieces from Earth's orbiting debris field. Relics and trash alike were plucked up and brought back to base.

The hydrogen synthesis modules which LightTech industries had made reality for their welding Metool units had seen an expansion under one simple precept: If matter, such as air and particles in the atmosphere, could be broken down into hydrogen, what was to keep the technology from then piecing the protomorphic soup of protons, neutrons, and electrons into other elemental configurations?

As the Rainbow had learned time and time again, though, any technology in its infancy suffers from tremendous cost. Freed from the Buster Project, Dr. Samas and Dr. Pellero had both taken on the enhanced synthesis project with Light and Wily's blessing, and managed to cobble together what was, for the time being, the only working "stable matter synthesis module." The stable part came in because Light and Wily had already done early experimentation with synthesizing things besides hydrogen, but anything more than one proton and electron in composition was inherently unstable, and fell apart after a minute or two. What Samas and Pellero had done was against the conventions of LightTech: Damn the cost, we'll make it work and burn all the power we need until it does! As long as the SMSM was running, SKYLIGHT could not power up its other large power consuming operations. The solar cannon had been taken offline, but by then, it had done its work. The asteroid was past Mars already, and coming in hot. What could be burned away was. The rest was a storm of rock, iron, and a few gaseous scraps that had avoided destruction.

The transport flotilla, guided under the control of another Metool unit, docked up with the SMSM and dumped its load. In one side went everything it had collected thousands of miles below SKYLIGHT's orbital path.

Out the other, a few minutes later, came several thin sheets of highly refined metalloid polymer, stacked a third of a meter high, 1.5 meters wide, and 3 meters long.

RD-224, by now the most active Metool on the SKYLIGHT build crew, flew down in his pressure-regulated control pod and tapped out a command. The tiny bubble's foot snapped out its grappler claws, took hold of the synthesized material, and set a course for the other side of the station.

There, where the bulk of the work was happening, three different styles of robots flew about. "Suzys" maneuvered with tiny airjet thrusters, the six-sided monocular robots providing live camera feeds of every part of the worksite to the project overseers and controllers. Metools did the bulk of the heavy moving and lifting, which wasn't hard in the open void of space. The most detailed work was reserved for the newest LightTech mechanoid, and one that Dr. Albert Wily was immensely proud of.

Its designation was KIF: Kinesthetic Intelligent Foundryman. It came permanently equipped with a variable plasma spot welder on one arm, leaving its second free to hold a blast shield or whatever other tool it required. Its head was a permanent helmet; underneath the burst-proof metal, made of the same metal that a Metool's helmet was composed of, it was nothing but internal wiring and a positronic brain. That and its monocular eye, of course. Wily had designed its optic himself, and in homage to a particular mecha called a Zaku from a very ancient anime, the eye could slide from one side of its head to the other, depending on where the KIF wished to look. In spite of his dislike of anthropomorphizing mechanoids, Wily had found the nickname for the KIF units tolerable.

The other astronauts called them Joes.

A Suzy flew dangerously close by Wily, and the spacesuit equipped scientist let out a stream of curses. He flung his arm out at the robot, a useless gesture given how his speed of movement was reduced, and how the mechanoid easily scooted clear.

"Damned robots." Wily snapped. "Use your brains for a change!"

Grigori Kechmenov hovered over on a thruster platform. "Is there a problem,Comrade Wily?"

"Just these robots." Wily muttered. "They're useful, they don't complain, and they follow instructions, but with as many as we've got floating around, we're constantly on our toes making sure they're not falling over each other. I came up here to supervise the build of the Buster Cannon, and I'm playing babysitter for all these damned robots."

Grigori shrugged. "Old Russian saying: Be grateful that only the river is frozen."

"Tch!" Despite himself, Wily smiled at the small joke. "That's something, I suppose." He checked the backlit datapad embedded in the forearm of his spacesuit and relaxed a bit more. "We might actually have the barrel built by our new deadline, thanks to the recycling synthesis modules."

Grigori nodded. "This is good. The other systems aboard are far less complicated...Another construction team is working on the laser artillery array for smaller objects."

"You can put good money on the bet that there will be plenty of those tagging along for the ride." Wily nodded. "They finally got around to finishing the last parts of that, then?"

"Railguns were easy, Comrade Wily." The cosmonaut smiled. "Focused chemical laser arrays are another thing."

What little mirth Wily had from the earlier joke died at that. "I could care less. I don't enjoy making weapons."

"So why did you decide to make this one?" Grigori asked, waving a hand to the busy worker crews bustling over the heart of SKYLIGHT. "Is all right to make weapon as long as it protects Earth, then?"

"It's all right to make this because only the people I know and trust know all the details about this project, it's been classified top secret, and only robots are working on it, besides me." Wily waved a finger at the Russian. "Robots which have all been given strict orders to never tell another living soul about what all is going into the Buster Cannon. The end result, Grigori, is that nobody will ever build another Buster Cannon ever again. It begins here and ends here, and thanks to SKYLIGHT's hardwired safety protocol, it will never be used against the planet it was built to protect."

Grigori blinked twice, then laughed a bit and floated off. "You are man who tries to think of everything."

"The devil's in the details." Wily answered back, watching Grigori float off back to his own tasks.

A Metool streaked by with another load of freshly prepared metalloid polymer sheets. Inside of its control dome, the robot turned its head towards the human and beeped something over the airwaves in curious binary.

Surprised, Wily had to take a moment to glance down to his suit's forearm datapad and cue it to translate.

How much longer until Earth is in danger?

"Ah." Wily stared at the question, some element sticking in his mind before he answered the Metool, "Ten months."

Satisfied, the Metool turned its eyes forward and flew on towards the Buster Cannon's work area.

Only after it was ten seconds out, and lost in the shuffle of Metools, Suzys and Joes did Wily realize why the question had surprised him so deeply:

Nowhere in the robots' instructions to construct SKYLIGHT's Buster Cannon had he ever mentioned why they had to make it.

Dr. Light's House

July 26th, 2059 C.E.

12:05 P.M.

The videophone went off in the living room, ringing in an old fashioned tone. Nobody came to answer it, and it rang again.

From the nearby kitchen, the sound of running water and a clatter of dishware preceded a boisterous shout. "Eddie, take that, would you?"

Beeping softly, the squat, cylinder shaped red mechanoid robot affectionately called Eddie waddled into the living room and made his way towards the vidphone. Dr. Light had made several additions to the house over the years to help Eddie get around from place to place, and one of those included a miniature lift next to the vidphone's stand. Eddie climbed a small set of stairs, settled onto the platform, and tapped a toggle switch with his right foot, taking him up the three feet to the vidphone.

The phone rang again, and was on its fourth ring before Eddie used his wireless uplink to connect to the vidphone and trigger the 'receive call' command.

The signal came in scrambled, encrypted by a set of very potent algorithms designed by the Second Rainbow's IT Department for secure communications. Eddie frowned, and offered an irritated squeak towards the kitchen, followed by a series of high pitched chirps and whistles.

"What's that, Eddie? Timmy's fallen down the well again?" Dr. Light joked from the next room over. When Eddie said nothing, the scientist let out a loud sigh. "All right, Eddie. I heard you the first time. The decrypt key this week is XZ4AO. You should have it in your memory banks."

Eddie nodded his cylindrical head and body, even though he didn't need to. The motion was one he'd observed both Light and Wily using as a nonverbal form of acknowledgement, and it seemed appropriate to the situation. He brought up the decryption key Light had told him to use, and ran it through the videophone. Sure enough, the transmission cleared up, and Eddie found himself blinking at the screen, looking at the image of his second Creator, Dr. Albert William Wily.

The wild, and now finally white-haired scientist stared at Eddie for a few hard seconds. "Ah, Tom's got you answering the phone again, does he?"

Eddie beeped in the affirmative and nodded again.

"Well, tell him to answer his own phone. I've got to talk to him for a while."

Eddie beeped what sounded like a query, and Wily looked away from his own viewscreen to a datapad in his hand.

"Of course it's something important. Do you think I would spend what little break time I have away from SKYLIGHT just to shoot the breeze? Think about it!"

Eddie's large, googly eyes spun around for a moment, and he whistled lowly with another remark.

"…No, I am not malfunctioning. I'm just tired and confused. I need to speak to Dr. Light. Get him for me. That's an order."

Eddie buzzed at him. One moment. Let me put you on hold.

Wily raised an eyebrow. "On hold? Now, wait a min…"

The screen went dark. Eddie made a few last-minute adjustments over the wireless uplink, then calmly stepped back onto the videophone's lift and lowered himself back down to the floor.

Back in the kitchen, Light grumbled and pulled his hand away from the stove. "Stupid filament…I'll buy a gas stove if this keeps up."

Eddie wandered back inside and beeped at him. Light turned away from the finally heating electric element and the pot of water on top of it all smiles again. "Who was it, Eddie?"

The red mechanoid responded by flipping his lid up and activating the viewscreen embedded in its underside. The screen fizzled for a moment, and then displayed Dr. Wily once more, floating in what could only be SKYLIGHT.

Light scooped up Eddie and beamed towards the screen. "Will! How's things up in SKYLIGHT?"

"Oh, fine, fine." Wily scratched at his chin, momentarily confused. "Did you put a vidphone in the kitchen?"

"No, no. Eddie routed the communication through himself. I thought it made some practical sense."

"Aha. Right." Wily gave his friend a knowing shake of his head. "You do realize we've modified Eddie so much over the years that he can literally do everything except what he was originally designed for?"

"Carry documents?" Light set Eddie down on the kitchen counter and leaned in to give the camera a better view of his face. "If we did that, there wouldn't be room for the beer. Speaking of, Eddie, shoot me a brew."

The robot beeped, and a hiss of compressed air launched a canister of chilled alcohol in a parabolic arc above Light's head. The scientist reached up and caught it easily, then popped the tab and sucked down a mouthful.

"A bit early in the morning to be drinking, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about, Al? It's already lunchtime here." Dr. Light argued. "Oh, wait. You forgot about the time differential, didn't you?"

"It's not my fault they run the station on Greenwich time."

"So, what's up?" Light chugged another mouthful, let out a small belch, and set the half-empty can of beer aside. "It'd be early morning for you right now. Couldn't sleep?"

"Sleeping's a hard proposition in zero g. I'm used to there being a down."

"Oh!" Light snapped his fingers. "That reminds me about something that'll make you happy, Albert. We just finished the initial run of Shaler's grav-plating, and it's going to be launched up to SKYLIGHT next week with the next supply dump. Once the techs there install it, you'll finally be able to actually sit down and drink an honest to God cup of coffee instead of that aluminum pouch crap."

"That is good news." Wily's face brightened up considerably. "They figured out the power drain?"

"Enough to make it work on a space station equipped with fusion reactors, but not enough otherwise." Light admitted. "It'll be a lot of years before the technology will be cost-effective enough for other settings. I'm afraid SKYLIGHT's the only place that will see an immediate benefit."

"Well, tell Shaler it's appreciated nonetheless." Wily told his friend. "And to answer your remark…Yes, I am calling about something important. I've noticed some…irregularities with the robot crews up here."

Light sat up a little straighter, forcing Eddie to tilt his body back to keep him in focus. "Is something wrong? The KIF units?"

"No, the KIFs are working just as promised. So are the Suzys, actually. It's the Metools. Or one. Or a few. I'm not sure."

Light frowned and pulled up a chair to the counter, sitting down. "All right…what's going on?"

"The other day, I had a Metool float up to me and ask me how much longer it was until Earth was in danger."

"Uh huh." Light nodded. "Go on."

"Tom, when's the last time you ever heard a robot ask you a question? And it knew about Earth. It even used the NAME, "Earth." We never told them about Earth, Tom. Astronomical awareness is not something covered in their basic programming!"

"Yeah?" Light folded his arms. "The Core Module and the positronic matrix of our robots allows for learning and adaptation. There's nothing saying that they can't learn other things that aren't related to their duties. Hell, take Eddie!" The robot beeped upon hearing its name, but Light forged on. "Remember what happened when we first powered him up after the Core Module reinitialization? He asked us if we were his Creators. I'd say that counts as a question."

"Well, yes, I know that, but…" Wily ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Tom. It worries me a bit. I don't know why. I can't explain why. All I know is is that there's something going on here I'm not catching, and I don't have the time to look into it and build the Buster Cannon. I was sort of hoping you might be able to scan the Metool activity logs, track down the models showing aberrant behavior…scan their pathways during stasis for abnormalities. You know, find out what's causing this."

"If it'll help you get back to sleep and leave me alone to my badly cooked pasta."

"Thanks, Tom." Wily looked relieved, and the wired and jittery mood started to fade away. "I'll be sure to leave an uplink open to the LightTech SKYLIGHT command and monitoring servers for you. Whenever you get around to it, all our on-site robots will be reviewable."

"Good." Light saluted with his first two fingers. "Now get some sleep, slugger. You look like you need it."

Wily chuckled a bit, waved him off, and shut down the connection.

Eddie lowered his lid back down and stared at Light. The bearded scientist scratched at his ear for a moment, then smiled at his robotic companion.

"Well, Eddie, it would seem we have a mystery on our hands."

The sound of hissing water drew their attention back to the stove, and Light groaned and ran to it.

"Oh, come on! Now you're overheating it! You piece of…"

Sennet Robotics American Branch HQ

Sao Paulo, Brazil

July 27th, 2059 C.E.

4:52 P.M.

"Denied? How?" Trenton Corbun was nearly livid as he glared at his videophone.

The man on the other end of the line, a loan officer from Eurovestments, Europe's largest banking consortium, offered an apologetic shrug. "I am sorry, Mr. Corbun, but our board of directors feels that a loan to your company would be too much of a risk. The forecast for a return on investment is marginal."

"An awfully nice way of saying you think that Sennet's going to go bankrupt." Corbun snapped. "Well, thanks for nothing." He flipped off the connection before the gentleman from Eurovestments could add a meaningless conclusion.

Corbun sank back into his chair. "Damnit." He shut his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. He'd needed that loan, and Eurovestments had been his last hope. Every American banking firm had turned him down, and he was still paying back Australia's First National from his Auto-Gardener failure. The Asian firms had avoided him like the plague on the basis of Corbun's penchant for grand failures.

Sennet Robotics was in trouble. Losing the contract with the U.S. Navy had been strike three against the already beleaguered robotics company. The Bullets had failed, he'd purposefully avoided going into the sadly lucrative military market, and then losing the Big Mouth deal had plugged the last nail in the coffin. Faith in the brand name had begun to wane, and people just weren't buying anymore.

That loan had been very much a necessity in keeping the business afloat and people employed. Sennet needed an infusion of capital to keep all its centers operational, and those centers were vital in providing high-skill jobs.

Trenton pulled himself up and leaned on his desk. "Now what?" The inventor asked the empty air. "What am I supposed to do now? Downsize? Fire people? Close things down?"

He didn't want to. He absolutely didn't. Sennet was his last great idea, and too many people counted on him. But without anyone willing to loan him money to keep the business going…

He even momentarily thought about calling up Dr. Light, or maybe Oliver Xanthos, and pestering them for money. That thought was washed away in a furious and angry backlash. No. He wasn't about to borrow money from his friends. He wouldn't stoop that low, and endanger them while he and Sennet got dragged down.

"Damnit!" He slammed a fist into his desk, jarring it hard enough that the top drawer jostled open a bit. Trenton glanced down inside wearily, and spied with a certain amount of dread, the once torn up and now taped together business card of Steve Wilcox.

The head of U.S. Robotics had offered his considerable influence in helping to keep Sennet afloat, if only Trenton would bite the bullet and share the secrets of plasma weapons technology.

He almost reached for it before he retracted his hand with a shuddering gasp and slammed the drawer shut.

Shaking, Trenton stood up and moved away from his desk. "It hasn't come to that yet." He said aloud. "It won't."

All his brave words couldn't silence the voice of doubt in his head.

And what will you do when it does?

July 28th, 2059 C.E.

8:24 P.M.

"Aah." Light wandered into his living room from the kitchen and settled back onto the couch. He sounded well pleased with things, and that probably had a lot to do with the bratwursts he'd had for dinner.

Eddie wandered in after him and beeped informatively. Light raised his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment and sighed. "All right, what?"

Eddie flipped his lid up and activated his monitor. Reminder: you promised Dr. Wily you would examine the SKYLIGHT robot workforce when you had a free moment.

"Christ, Eddie, I just sat down." Light complained. "What are you, my mother?"

That is an impossibility. Doctors Light and Wily are this unit's creator. One cannot be progeny and parent to the same person.

"Smarta…" Light paused. "Did you just say progeny?"

Eddie blinked at him. Is that an incorrect term?

Light thought on it for a moment. "Well…when humans use the word progeny, they mean their biological sons and daughters. You were manufactured, artificially created."

Understood. This unit will no longer use the word "Progeny." Please state alternative preference.

"Let's just stick to your name, Eddie, and avoid the pronouns." Light reached over and grabbed the laptop he kept out in the living room. "But all right. Kill the reminder and start me up some music. I'm going to get started."

Eddie activated the living room's stereo system, and Light couldn't help but smile as the music of B.B. King pepped him up. "Ah, a little blues from the king? Perfect. Just cue it down another ten decibels and I'll be right as rain."

The Fliptop beeped a confirmation, made the volume adjustment, and then wandered off for a much needed recharge and stasis cycle.

"Hm." Light powered up the laptop, waited a few moments for the operating system to load up, and then accessed the house's wireless connection.

A few more keystrokes connected him to the Second Rainbow's secure network, and with the access data Wily had left him, he was soon accessing the datalogs for the robotic workforce.

"All right then, Al. Let's just have a look-see here…"

On the surface, the command and monitoring servers that had been set up aboard SKYLIGHT for the robotic workforce were very simple. The diagnostics panel tracked every robot during their work schedules, made notes of errors and breakdowns, and scheduled repairs accordingly. All of it could be reviewed at a glance, robot by robot, with color-coded visual displays. Systems running nominally flashed green, those in need of maintenance or minor repair went yellow, and damaged sections in need of more severe work would flash red.

Now, Albert said it was a Metool that was acting strangely. All right. Let's bring up the Metool displays, and…

The visual displays for the KIF and Suzy units vanished, and the screen expanded the Metool archives. Row after row of the footed walking helmets scanned by, and several here and there showed splashes of yellow and red over them. "Stop." Light muttered, relying on his laptop's vocal pickup. The scrolling ceased halfway through its display, hovering over a patch of fifteen Metools. Yellow sections blinked in a haphazard pattern between them all. "Narrow search parameter. Only display Metools with anomalies in their central processors."

That dropped the list to zero. One moment, he was glancing at all the hundreds of Metools working aboard SKYLIGHT, and the next…nothing.

Just an empty screen, and the words No matches found displayed in the middle of it.

"Balls." Light made a soft sucking noise, then let out a disapproving puff of air. "All right. So much for doing this the easy way."

Wily had mentioned that he had encountered the "Malfunctioning" Metool over the construction of SKYLIGHT's core. A modified search parameter narrowed the possible malfunctioning Metools to only eighty-seven.

"A lot, but better than zero." Light tugged on the end of his beard. "So, eighty-seven. And the system doesn't recognize any anomalies."

The challenge of it only made him smile wider as he accessed the logs and set up a special command.

Run full positronic diagnostic for selected units during next stasis period.

That simple command was already coming into play; fully twelve units, already in stasis, had their diagnostic sweeps intensified.

Light leaned back against the couch and smiled at his screen. "You want to go looking for irregularities, you make a roadmap." If there truly was a unique Metool running around up in SKYLIGHT, he would know about it soon enough.

Give or take a day or so, when the rest would turn in for a much needed recharge.

Light was beginning to feel sleepy himself, and he switched the laptop over to hibernation and recharge mode. It would leech enough power over the wireless microwave uplink to keep the batteries optimal…

And be ready when he woke up.

Five minutes later, his snoring was loud enough to make Eddie pause his recharge, deactivate stasis, and glance around from his private cubbyhole in a back corner of the living room to determine the source of the noise. The red mechanoid blinked twice, let out a mildly irritating sounding beep, and went back into stasis.

That, for the robot and his Creator, was the end of a very normal day.

Project SKYLIGHT

August 4th, 2059 C.E.

5:22 P.M.

"Pressure has been normalized. Opening interior airlock."

Stuck in the pressure cabin between SKYLIGHT's exterior and the relatively spacious living quarters inside, Dr. Wily popped the seal on his spacesuit and removed the helmet.

"Nothing quite like going from recycled air to," He sniffed, then winced. "…recycled air with a hint of garlic."

The inner hatch opened up, and Wily carefully float-hopped the last few feet to the station's interior. Once inside, gravity took hold with sudden and strong force, and his boots touched down on the decking of the spacesuit storage locker.

Another one of the astronauts aboard SKYLIGHT poked his head into the locker room. "Oh, hey. You're back later than usual, Doc."

"Complications with the third magnetic accelerator coil." Dr. Wily sniffed, making his way out of his spacesuit as quickly as possible. "I couldn't go down there myself…had to trust the work to a KIF with a Suzy on backup." He threw one of his boots off and chuckled. "Thank God for this grav-plating. That Dr. Shaler's a genius."

"So they say." The astronaut shrugged. "Come on. We've got Tony cooking up dinner tonight. Spaghetti."

"I was wondering why I smelled garlic." Wily tossed off his other boot and wiggled his thermally insulated socks. "The marvels of true, one-gee artificial gravity…we get to suffer under marinara sauce so heavily spiced with garlic it could kill a vampire."

"It's better than your burritos." The astronaut wrinkled his face up. "Ground control wasn't exactly happy that the air purifiers had to pull overtime after that little debacle."

"I care about results. I don't care about problems." The German-American scientist was as chipper as ever. "You go on ahead. I want to make a call before dinner."

"Got a girlfriend down on Earth?" The astronaut teased him, earning a flying boot that whizzed past his ear for his trouble. "Boyfriend?" He asked, wondering if there was a correction.

"Out!" Wily snapped, and the astronaut retreated. Wily set his head in his hands and let out a sigh. "Children. I'm surrounded by mindless robots and idiotic children." It was how he felt most of the time, really. As much as he loved being out here in space, flying around the world at relative breakneck speeds, there was a severe lack of good company about. The astronauts were astronauts, and there were only two other engineers aboard. Both of them, unfortunately, were weapons specialists working on bettering the vast array of laser turrets, missile banks, and their targeting systems. Hardly the sort Wily wanted to associate with.

No, when all else was wiped away, the people Wily preferred associating with were all down on Earth, working on their parts of the grand project. And right now…

So what if he's probably in bed right now? He can wake himself up.

Wily stowed his gear into his locker and dragged out the handheld video communicator he'd been assigned on his trip up. A few button clicks set it to ringing, and Wily couldn't help but smirk.

"Wake up, Tom…"

Six rings in, the connection took. A blurry and bleary-eyed Dr. Light, eyes still shut as he lay in his bed, appeared in view. "Yeah?"

"Talking through Eddie again, I see."

"Oh. Al." Light yawned. He kept his eyes shut, but he was clearly trying to be aware of his surroundings. "It's late. What do you want?"

"A progress report. Have you found the Metool acting up yet?"

"No." Light mumbled. "S'too hard. They're all…in the green. No problems. No errors."

Wily's eyes narrowed. "Nothing? No fragmented caches of RAM?"

"No."

"No electrical defects from intrasolar particle bombardment?"

"No."

"No unstable memory sectors?"

"No." Light's nos were getting shorter and more curt.

"Well, what about…"

"Al, all their Core Modules are functioning exactly as they're supposed to." Light grumbled. He finally cracked one eye open and stared into the harsh glow of Eddie's viewscreen and camera. "I don't know which one it is. I don't know what would cause it, or what's causing it. Tomorrow, I'm going to run a few more tests, but for right now…"

"Let you sleep?"

"If you would." Light rolled over. "Night, Al."

Wily smiled in spite of himself. "Good night, Tom." He switched off the connection and stowed the communicator into the front pocket of his SKYLIGHT jumpsuit.

It was mixed results, but Light was clearly on it…and probably pulling late nights doing so.

"Peace of mind; re-established." Wily got up and ventured out of the locker rooms, further into SKYLIGHT's living quarters.

Oddly enough, spaghetti with garlic marinara sauce was starting to sound delicious.

LightTech Industries Main Headquarters

Tokyo, Japan

August 6th, 2059 C.E.

11:52 A.M.

"You know, I really hate board of directors meetings." Light grumbled. "Why do we still have them?"

At his side marched Titus Grant, his old friend in the Second Rainbow who still served, as Light and Wily did, in a diminished capacity for the United Nation's overarcing institution. For several years now, though, Titus had been working as LightTech Industries' IT Specialist. It gave the Australian time enough to spend with his old friends if he wished to…and most times, he did. It was rare that they did because of their workloads, and that made their time all the more precious.

The aging Australian chortled and reached for his handkerchief. "It might have something to do with the fact that LightTech is still a publicly traded company, and it's too huge for two blokes to handle on their own."

"It's not entirely public." Light grumbled. "Albert and I own two-thirds of the controlling interest. But you are right about LightTech being too big to handle." The bearded scientist tucked his hands into the pockets of a very uncharacteristic brown suit and strolled on out of the building's main doors. "LightTech's gotten bigger than I had ever thought it might be. I just wish that the people who I leave in charge to run it while I'm away would mind well enough alone and not come up with stupid ideas and even stupider commercials."

"Oh, come on. I thought it was a marvelous presentation." Titus put on a more serious expression. "LightTech: At the core of everything you trust." The Australian cracked another smile. "It's spot on, is what it is."

"Oh, right." Light rolled his eyes. "A veiled reference to the Core Module. Of course. It doesn't take a genius to come up with a lame slogan like that."

"Naw. Just takes one to shoot it down." Titus teased him. "Look, Tom. They're onto something. You realize that right now, LightTech's positioned to have a majority control of the robotics industry? You've got all those little buggers up there all over SKYLIGHT, working to save the world, and you've got thousands more runnin' around here down on earth helping out and doing things and going places people couldn't. People trust this company, because they trust you. You and Wily. And as long as you're around, coming up with things to make life better, well, they'll keep buying."

"Yeah." Light finally nodded, accepting the wisdom of his friend's observations. "It's just…Well, you remember all those refugee camps that the United Nations had after the Wars?"

Titus's face darkened; Australia had been host to three such sprawling complexes, hastily erected mazes of tents and quick buildings where survivors from around the world had relocated in search of normalcy, work, and a new life. "Yeah, I remember them."

"The last one was decommissioned only three years ago." Light reminded his friend sadly. "It took us a decade before we were able to save enough of the world that people could start going back to their homes…what was left of them. The economy's still pulling itself up out of the hole. We're far from where we were twenty years ago, in terms of infrastructure and livability. That's stuck with me, Titus…that's why I get annoyed when the Board starts arguing about whether or not they've made a good commercial. We've got bigger problems to worry about"

The Australian chewed the inside of his lip. "Yeah. I can see that, I guess. But you can't solve all the world's problems. It's not like you pushed the button. Hell, it's not like any of us did. We're just stuck fixing it. And all things considered? I'd say we're doing a fine job."

Light laughed a little at that. "You know, I miss your optimism. Mine's quieter. Yours, I always feel like you've just come from a big party."

"Live big or go home." Titus echoed, picking up the pace and moving a few steps ahead of Light. "So, then. Now that we've got the boring part of the day over with, suppose I take you out to lunch…unless, of course, you were planning on running back home to that little hovel of yours in the Treeborg Preserve and slavin' away in the darkness."

"Perish the thought." Light picked up his own speed, and soon the two were moving at almost a jog towards a waiting LightTech vehicle in the circular front drive. "Al's waited this long for me to get some results…he can wait another few hours!"

"Race ya!" Titus bellowed, and the two middle-aged men bolted for the car.

Second Rainbow Headquarters

Ewan Lake, Alaska

August 7th, 2059 C.E.

11:42 A.M.

Most people would look at Alaska and think that the state was covered in snow and ice year round. While for several places, this was often true, there were other regions where the climate became quite temperate for a brief month or three. This was one of the reasons that Ewan Lake had been selected for the grounds of what had once been called the CTWRC. Second Rainbow would forever be a better name than that unruly amalgam, but the name didn't change what they struggled to accomplish, or where they did it.

Summer had come to the headquarters of the Second Rainbow, and there was no clearer sign of this than the band of nearly 60 people who patrolled around the outer security fence of the SRHQ, chanting and hoisting signs.

"We have no fear! The end is here! We have no fear! The end is here!" Had it not been for the fence, and the stoic looking security forces from the United Nations that had been stationed by the entrance, the assembled crowd would have certainly drove inwards.

High up in the SRHQ's main complex, Site Coordinator Paul Van Hostick glanced out of his office window and gave his head a disapproving shake. "I wish winter would hurry up and return."

Sitting across from him, Darwin Vinkus couldn't help but chuckle. "They finally got to you, eh?"

"As much as I love the freedoms of protest and being able to make your voice known, I don't particularly enjoy the people from Gehenna's End."

"None of us do." Vinkus remarked, bringing his handheld touch flatscreen to eye level again. "I can't tell you the number of times I've ranted in the United Nations general assembly about censuring those idiots. If they want to die so much, they should just drink some tainted Kool-Aid and be done with it. Putting up with their venom while the rest of us are busy trying to save the world is not something we should have to do."

"Well, we could always have them taken out back and shot." Marcel suggested, though the roll of his eyes implied he meant it in jest.

"If only." Vinkus muttered. "But thankfully, we don't live under the control of a police state." He tapped a few buttons on his flatscreen and brought up another display. "So, it looks like I'll have some good news for my next meeting in New Amsterdam. It's nice to have SKYLIGHT meeting its deadlines. Not to mention, required."

"Yes, yes." Dr. Hostick waved a hand about airily. "Though Dr. Wily, as well as his contacts on earth, remain as tight-lipped as ever about the technology behind their Buster Cannon. At least we have video feeds of the production. I just wish they'd tell the rest of us. What if something goes wrong, and we lose them all? Light, Wily, the others on the development team? What would we do then?"

Vinkus nodded. "I would be lying if I told you I hadn't had similar thoughts myself." The Second Rainbow's representative set his flatscreen aside and leaned forward, perching his chin on his hands. "What I have learned about Light and Wily is that they are both extremely gun-shy. For as much as they wish their work to be a source of inherent goodness in the world, they forever temper their efforts with a legacy of metal. The Kewbees, the GAIDNs, and their flight from the United States, courtesy of Mr. Oliver Xanthos…all of their experiences has convinced them that the world cannot be trusted."

Vinkus smiled sadly. "In many ways, I am greatly surprised that they haven't yet told the world to take a flying leap. It speaks to their character-Dr. Wily's, especially-that even after all that has happened to them, they maintain their beneficent viewpoints."

"But their experience is hardly unusual." The Site Coordinator retorted. "Every engineer, physicist, botanist and all the rest all come from a world that is wartorn. We've all watched the world burn and had that same thought, that it cannot be trusted. Yet we do. We strive to rebuild and protect this world of ours, because it is the only one we have. Why then, should I give any further attention or respect to those two Amer…sorry, those two Japanese scientists?" He raised an eyebrow, highlighting Light and Wily's unique status as Japanese refugee citizens.

Vinkus's lips thinned. "I wish I had a good answer for you. It's just a hunch, you might say. Their talents have touched everything within the Second Rainbow."

"Hm." Director Van Hostick glanced out of his window again and watched the Gehenna's End protestors continue their tirade. "So these are the people we sacrifice to protect."

"So they say." Vinkus tapped his chair's armrest. "You know, of the two of them, I worry more about Dr. Light."

"How so?"

"He's far more reclusive than his friend, Dr. Wily. He hardly ever leaves that house of his anymore. God only knows what he's doing." Vinkus brought his hand up and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And his outlook…The most powerful villains are the ones who had the farthest to fall from grace."

"Are you suggesting we need to keep an eye on him?"

"No." Vinkus said, and his gaze stared out to some distant spot beyond the wall. "But I will always worry."

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve

Dr. Light's House

August 8th, 2059 C.E.

8:24 A.M.

Light settled into his recliner and pulled his laptop on top of his legs. "All right, Eddie, I suppose there's no sense putting this off any longer. You brewed some hot coffee for me?"

From the nearby kitchen, a robotic droning beep came in reply. By pitch alone, Light identified the response as being a positive one. He smiled and pulled up his computer's connections menu. "Good. Bring me in a thermos of it…use the kitchen assist panel."

With his small red Fliptop unit busy, the portly robotics engineer examined the deep scan data the SKYLIGHT Metool control servers had collected.

"Clean…clean…clean…"

Light frowned, and finished poring over the rest. "Slag it. Computer, bring up the default positronic gridmap. Set it as an underlay behind every deep scanned Metool. Highlight differential areas in blue."

The small computer quickly set to work, drawing on the power and resources from his home's firewalled server.

A Metool's positronic brain-really, any LightTech robot's positronic brain had a specific and defined structure upon activation. Viewed remotely through a digital representation, the pathways resembled a very intricate and latticed spherical orb, more snowflake than snowball. A robot's experiences, its duties, the interactions it had with other robots and other humans, and the knowledge it gained all acted together to redefine and reshape the electronic neural pathways inside of a robot's head. In truth, only one component of the brain was never reshaped; The Core Module. It had been built that way, the one unfailing and unceasing piece of a very convoluted maze.

Eddie finally came plodding into the room, somehow managing to balance an empty teacup on top of his head. He came up beside Light's reclining chair and beeped loudly to get the scientist's attention.

"Aah, thanks, Eddie." Light reached down and fumbled around with a free hand, finally managing to grab the ceramic mug. "You got the coffee loaded up in your compressed air launcher?" Eddie beeped another affirmative.

"It's warm?" Another beep.

"…The lid's screwed on it this time, right?"

A slightly lower beep that might have expressed irritation, if Eddie was capable of emotions.

"All right, all right. Launch it up for me then."

Eddie flipped his lid, released a powerful compressed blast of air with a shhoooomp, and fired the thermos of coffee up to head level. Light caught it with a swipe of his hand, unscrewed the cap, and poured himself a liberal amount. "Muuch better. Your aim's improving."

Eddie kept his lid open and beeped at Light to get the scientist's attention. The viewscreen embedded in his head's underside turned on.

What are you doing, Dr. Light?

"I'm just examining some test data. You know why though, right?"

Affirmative. Dr. Wily suspects one or several Metool units operating on Project SKYLIGHT have become defective, and wishes you to run a thorough sweep of their positronic matrices.

"Two for two, Eddie. You certainly know what you're talking abou…"

Light paused, and glanced down at Eddie with disturbing scrutiny.

Is there a malfunction, Dr. Light?

"No, no." Light finally said. "You just got me thinking, was all."

On what?

"Well, look at this…" Light reached down, grabbed Eddie by the rim of his head, and lifted the robot up into the air. Eddie kicked his feet out until Light set him down on an arm rest, and then quickly displayed another message.

That was an unexpected and unwelcome sensation.

"I'll try to remember not to do it again. But take a look at this." Light motioned to the screen, where all the diagrams were spinning. "See, these are all the positronic matrices for all the Metools up at SKYLIGHT. Under them, I meshed a display for what a Metool's positronic brain looks like when it's first activated."

Eddie glanced down at the screen, then turned his opened head towards Dr. Light.

And the blue flashing areas?

"Those are where deviations have taken place."

I was led to understand that such deviations are normal under routine operations, as well as benign.

"True." Light shrugged. "The experiences and additional programming Metools receive in their period of service alter the pathways. That's why I created this display to be like a three-dimensional snowflake…Every robot's positronic brain is just a little bit different."

Including mine?

Light laughed a bit. "Yes, Eddie, even yours. Especially yours, if my guess is right."

The robot blinked at him, and Light realized that Eddie was waiting for clarification. "You're…different. Do you remember anything from before we installed the Core Module into you?"

I cannot recall any specific details of my activities prior to the integration of the Core Module, Dr. Light. My memory banks do, however, specify I was active for a certain duration prior to that modification.

"Yeah, that's right. Do you remember what you asked us when we reactivated you from the Core Module install?"

I do not.

Light tugged at his beard. "You asked us if we were your creators. That was an unusual question, considering we didn't program you to ask questions to begin with. The same thing's apparently happened with a Metool, or perhaps more than one Metool, up at SKYLIGHT." Light pointed to the screen of his laptop. "So I'm looking at the blue areas, where changes from the original positronic settings have taken place…and looking to see what areas are similar between them all."

But as you have said, Dr. Light, every robot's mind is unique. How could there be similarities?

"That…" Light hesitated. "…that part I don't know yet. I'm basing all of this on a hunch. And maybe I'm completely wrong, but there has to be some connection. Something I'm missing."

The concept of a "hunch" is illogical. There is no data to support such a claim.

"Yet." Light reprimanded his creation. "But we learn by doing. Guessing is the first step in finding out the truth."

I calculate a negligible chance that I can sway you from this spotty course of action.

"Yeah, you'd be right." Light exhaled. "First rule about humans, Eddie…We're very illogical."

My compiled data supports that conjecture. Request a return to my normal duties.

"Yeah, yeah." Light picked up Eddie again and sat him down. "Run along. I've got my coffee and the entire morning ahead of me."

Eddie tottered off soundlessly, leaving Light staring at a screen full of spherical snowflakes spotted in blue. "Time to get to work." The scientist muttered, and typed in his next command.

Compare positronic deviations. List similarities.

It took his computer twenty seconds to bring up the matches. Light winced at the results.

"No complete matches. Only partials." He resigned himself to a long and tedious scan of the data, and set to work.

Dr. Light was on his second cup of coffee when he realized something very important.

One Metool had no similar positronic deviations with any of the others. The snowflake representing its mind, on closer inspection, was alarming.

Nearly 65 percent of its electronic brain showed flashing blue. Light brought up the robot, and let its designation burn into his retinas.

He said it aloud, and remembered the name.

"RD-224."

Sennet Robotics

Sao Paulo, Brazil

August 14th, 2059 C.E.

1:47 A.M.

Dr. Mikhail "Sergei" Sergeyivich Cossack was, by all accounts, a young and bustling busybody. His drive and passion for the arts of robotic engineering had made him a dynamic and controlling figure within the halls and conference rooms of Trenton Corbun's landmark company. All those who knew him would say he was the quickest to laugh, the first to offer a helping hand or a fresh perspective, and the last to leave a friend in the lurch. They also freely admitted that he had no life outside of work.

That, of course, was why he was still working in his private laboratory with the clock ticking down towards 2 in the morning. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep as much as he felt he couldn't. He didn't feel like trusting this next phase of the project to anyone else. He was constructing an exploratory robot adaptable for close quarters and long-range exploration. A single head-attached rotor gave the mechanoid its primary aerial movement, and smaller fans around its base gave it directional thrust. It wasn't very big, but it was light.

More importantly, if he finished this last design change with the directional rotors in its landing base, it would be incredibly energy efficient. Designated the "Helipon", keeping in line with friendlier sounding names, it would be a small but welcome addition to the Sennet Robotics' exploration and observation line. Smaller meant cheaper…and cheaper meant there was a very good chance more of them would be bought.

Given the grumblings around the office, Sennet Robotics needed a shot in the arm.

His laboratory's vidphone, a meter and a half down the counter and away from him, suddenly lit up. The noise chirped up a heartbeat later.

"Incoming call. Incoming call."

"Niechevo!" Cossack almost jumped out of his seat. Glowering, he set his tools aside and pushed himself away from the Helipon's bare circuits. "Who in the devil is…"

He glanced over to the vidphone's viewscreen and promptly shut up when the Caller ID displayed the number. It made his head swim. After all, they hadn't spoken in…

Sergei walked over next to the phone, but held his finger above the "Receive" button for several more rings. It was only right before the answering machine would have kicked in that he finally worked up the nerve to accept the call. His finger came down hard on the button, and the screen flashed to life.

The young, red-haired Russian robotic engineer found himself staring at an older and permanently sallow-faced man. The similarities between them, brown and red hair aside, were unmistakable.

But then, all Cossacks had that strong chin. Especially Sergei's father, Yuri.

"I was beginning to think you would not answer." Dr. Yuri Cossack remarked grimly. "But at last I can see you are still alive, Mikhail."

"It's Sergei." The younger Cossack answered sullenly.

"Your denial of the name I gave you is a sore point with me, son."

"So is everything else I do." Sergei folded his arms. "So why have you called, father? We haven't spoken in years. Why now? Are you just bored up at the Second Rainbow?"

"My work is for the good of all mankind, you sniveling…!" Yuri caught himself and cleared his throat to calm the red that now covered his drawn face. "Tch. You would like me to yell at you, so you could hang up the phone and feel justified. But there are things we need to discuss."

"Such as?"

Yuri fidgeted in front of his camera for a moment. "I have kept track of your…progress…at that company you work for."

"Sennet Robotics?" Sergei prodded, smiling cannily. So like his father, to not even be able to admit his son's career openly. If things had gone according to Yuri's plan, his son would have become a star biochemist. As it stood, the son of Yuri Cossack had shown aptitudes far beyond any predictions the father could have made. Sergei firmly believed that chance had nothing to do with it.

After all, Einstein had always refused to believe God played dice with the universe…

"Yes." Yuri muttered, glancing to the side. His gaze came back soon enough. "But as it is, Mikhail, even though you have come up through the ranks, the company you are employed with is in trouble."

"We'll get through it."

"I have friends in the Second Rainbow who do not believe that will be the result. Mikhail…"

"Sergei!"

"…Whatever you call yourself now. My son, I may not approve of your career, and my opinions on robots and advanced technologies are well known. But I am still your father. Let me speak for you. I can get you a place within the Second Rainbow. There, your career options will be safe…"

"Oh, right." Sergei snapped bitterly. "Working on the payroll of countries that were responsible for the Wars? Responsible for killing my mother? No."

"The Second Rainbow works for the United Nations, not the war-mongering nations!" Yuri screamed. "Come on, you know that as well as anyone! Even your so-called heroes, Doctors Light and Wily, are a part of the Second Rainbow. And they're expatriates. Why then, do you refuse to quit your job at Sennet and join us, where your career is safe?"

"Because it's my career!" Sergei beat a fist against his chest. "It is something that I control, father, not you! If I were to become a member of the Rainbow, it would not be for my sake, it would be for yours. It is my life now. It was my decision to become a robotics engineer, even when you cut me off. I have made my own life and my own destiny, separate from yours."

Yuri's face went blank and stony, unreadable. "So this is your decision?"

Sergei Cossack breathed out softly, and nodded. "You and I…we haven't gotten along since I graduated from College in 2054. And, I think that, perhaps we shouldn't leave it like that."

"So what do you intend, then? To mend our broken fences?"

"If we can."

"You continue to work in a field I have openly condemned, serving private business interests instead of the world. You do not even use the name I gave to you when you were born."

"Yes, but we're still family, aren't we?" Sergei pleaded. "Just…tell me. Honestly, for once. In all the years I've been a robotics engineer, haven't you ever once been proud of me?"

Yuri shut his eyes, and the shake of his head tore Sergei's heart in two. "I was proud of who you used to be. I can see now that the son I raised…is dead. I shall not bother you ever again… Sergei Cossack."

The vidphone's screen went black, and the call ended.

Arms shaking, Sergei reached for a screwdriver on the countertop nearby and hurled it across the room with a scream. He didn't flinch when it smashed into a pane of safety glass and left cracked spiderwebs across its surface.

In the silence of 2 in the morning, nobody was around to say anything to the Russian engineer.

Dr. Light couldn't make heads or tails of it. In spite of the excessive amount of neurological deviation within RD-224's pathways, there was nothing in the robot's service record or maintenance files that indicated anything unusual. There was nothing unique in the mechanoid's deviations that he could see, because the altered routes were made to allow quicker access to more active pathways. In effect, the "Blue" areas were nothing more unique than the robotic version of memory mnemonics, little tricks learned that altered and improved response time.

Still, as Wily sometimes liked to say, Can't go over it, can't go under it, can't go around it, gotta go through it!

He sat in his living room, sipping hot green tea, watching the first season of an old TV comedy, and occasionally checking the uplink he had with SKYLIGHT's Metool server. It was a waiting game right now.

He'd established that there were anomalies, but nothing that was of any concern. RD-224 was likely the Metool Wily suspected, but proving it through diagnostic scans was impossible. It was through communication that a Metool had shown irregularity. It would be through communication, then, that Light would have to work.

His laptop chirped at him. Light switched his attention down and smiled. "About time." The server had just announced that RD-224 reported to the storage containers for a stasis recharge. He typed in a command on his laptop's keyboard and routed it to the Metool. The mechanoid had settled into his rack, according to the sensors, but hadn't shut down yet.

Command override. Remain active, respond to LightTech query. Report readiness.

There was a momentary pause, and then the robot's digital reply beamed from thousands of miles above, came in.

LightTech Metool designation RD-224 reporting. Command recognized. All systems nominal, but recharge is required.

"Good." Light mused, typing in his next message. "Now let's see how you talk."

I am Dr. Light, the head of LightTech Industries. Will you answer a few questions for me?

Is that an order or a request?

Light cracked a grin at the Metool's question to his question. Most robots would interpret that as an order and react accordingly. Consider it an order.

Then I will comply. Please state your questions.

"All right." Light drummed his fingers on his armrest. "Basics then." State the Three Rules/Laws of Robotics.

A robot may not harm a human being, or through inaction, allow harm to come to a human being.

A robot must obey all orders given to it by a human being, unless that order is in conflict with the First Law.

A robot must act to preserve its own existence, unless that action would conflict with the first two Laws.

State the Core Module Third Law Amendment.

A robot may ignore any order that would lead to self-injury without First Law conflict. This is the one instance where the Third Law supersedes the Second Law.

"Well, his Core Module's intact and functioning." Light said to himself. "But I was expecting that." He wiggled his fingers for a bit and forged on. His examination would only be valid if their talk followed a natural progression. Thank you. Could you tell me what your duties on the SKYLIGHT project are?

In the early stages of the Project, I worked on the solar arrays; repair and installation. My current assignment is working on the construction of Dr. Wily's "Buster" plasma cannon. Supply distribution, oversight, and spot work are the primary functions I perform.

Having a robot refer to themselves as "I" was no mistake; by virtue of the Third Law, Core Module robots had a well-defined sense of self. Identifying the self and having the ability to contemplate the self, however, were two very different things.

Oversight and spot work? Can you elaborate on those duties?

Project SKYLIGHT

Tucked away in his storage rack, RD-224 blinked as he received the query. This one, he could not answer.

Second Law override: Dr. Wily has pre-existing, specific orders on what cannot be shared with others regarding the Buster cannon project. Your query cannot be answered.

There was a long twelve seconds before Dr. Light sent another message to the idling mechanoid. Very well. Dr. Wily is a friend of mine, you know…

I am sorry, but my orders were specific. RD-224's response was emotionlessly polite, but firm.

Fine, then. I was looking over your performance logs. According to the task efficiency reports, you are the most active Metool on the workforce. Did you know that?

I had not allocated any computation time to that observation. Is this a problem?

Well, no. Came the quick reply. It is simply unusual, is all. You remain on active duty an average of forty minutes longer than other Metools in your division. You frequently continue to operate past the "Safe zone" for your power cell's rating. I am curious why you would do that. Isn't going beyond your normal operational time in violation of the Third Law?

RD-224's mind hummed for nearly two seconds, generating excess heat as his pathways warmed from the long cross-calculations in the Core Module. The Module weighed and compared the balances and impact of all Three Laws against each other. A million minute calculations flashed by in a slow blink of the Metool's eyes, and it settled on an answer.

First Law precedence. To prevent harm, this unit must function beyond operational standards.

There was a pause from the other end of the line. RD-224 surmised the human Dr. Light that was speaking to him was thinking. Humans took so much longer to think.

What First Law precedence? You are simply building a structure in space.

From my understanding, Project SKYLIGHT is being built to protect Earth from an approaching event called "Epoch."

Another pause. That is correct. But the First Law does not deal with planets.

Humans exist and live on the Planet Earth. Therefore, to uphold the First Law and prevent harm from coming to humans, it is imperative that SKYLIGHT be completed and made functional as soon as possible.

Who told you humans lived on Earth?

No one. I learned that information myself.

Why?

RD-224 fell silent.

Why did you want to learn about Earth, and the humans on it? It was not a part of your programming, nor was it an immediate concern with your duties.

I…

You were ordered to answer my questions, RD-224.

There was a minor alert that went off about the temperature inside RD-224's positronic brain. The mechanoid ignored it, let the thought finish running its course, and divulged the answer.

I was curious. I…wanted to know.

Dr. Light's House

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve

Tokyo, Japan

Light sat there unblinking. He stared at the screen. The words on it burned into the back of his skull.

I was curious.

"That's impossible." He breathed. "Robots don't…they can't get…"

The sentence didn't change. In fact, another one followed it.

Is something the matter, Dr. Light? Have I said something wrong?

"Did it really happen?" Light wondered. A bolt of inspiration hit him, and he realized that there was another robot who had asked a strange question once.

Eddie. "Did it happen again?" Light asked. He let his fingers continue the conversation, not trusting his voice to speak the words aloud.

No, you haven't. I'm just surprised, is all. Robots aren't supposed to be curious.

I see. Observation: Your queries have followed a certain progression. There is a 78 percent chance that you believe this unit to be malfunctioning. Is this observation correct?

I had received reports that there was an anomalous Metool working on SKYLIGHT. My reviews of the positronic scans pegged you as the most likely candidate, RD-224.

Am I malfunctioning?

Light had to shut his eyes and smile for a moment. You know, there are some things that have happened with you, RD-224, but I don't believe it counts as a malfunction. You're operating well within…Hell, beyond operational standards.

But I am an…anomaly?

You're different. I don't know how, I don't know why. But somehow, something's happened inside of your positronic matrix that has given you the ability to look at the world around you and ask questions. You're the second robot I've seen this kind of behavior from.

Who is the first?

Light almost typed out the name "Eddie," but something stopped him.

RD-224 was unique, just as Eddie was. Something was different about them, and he didn't know what. Already, he had probably divulged more information than he should have.

It doesn't matter. For now, you're getting a clean bill of health. Keep on doing the good work up in SKYLIGHT.

I will do so. I'll make sure the others do as well.

You tell the other robots what to do?

Oversight was among my duties that I listed earlier.

Who told you to oversee the other robots?

No one. First Law Precedence. For maximum efficiency, improving the quality and coordination of work was required. Will there be anything else, Dr. Light? I am overdue for my stasis recharge cycle.

No. No, that'll do for now. Sleep well, RD-224.

Error: Robots do not sleep.

-End of Line

Light rubbed at his eyes. "Son of a bitch. Son. Of. A bitch."

His laptop chimed to bring him out of his stupor. An E-Mail had come in from Dr. Wily.

"Hey Tom, have you found out anything yet?" Light read aloud.

Eddie coasted into the room, riding on top of a flat disc-shaped vacuum cleaner. The small red robot glanced up as he passed by and blinked once. Light smiled down at him, and then Eddie turned his head around again and rode off.

"Yeah, I'd say we found something." Light told himself. He felt very tired all of a sudden, and a lot of it had to do with how he would phrase his reply to Albert.

He shut the screen of his laptop, got out of his chair, and wandered off. Albert would assume the worst, and Light still didn't know what had caused RD-224's miraculous evolution.

And if he did find out, Light decided, it might be best if the secret stayed with him.

Wily had enough to worry about, after all. That was what he said to assuage his guilty conscience.

August 29th, 2059 C.E.

Albert,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I'm sorry I haven't written sooner, but it took me a while to finish my survey of the Metools. Life's been a little crazy down here as well.

Because I know it's the most important thing on your mind…Yes, I found the robot you were worried about. I ran a full systems diagnostic as well as a personal interview, though, and he checks out. There is nothing wrong with him, either in its positronic pathways or its mechanics.

Yes, he does show the unexpected trait of being curious; asking questions. But we've seen that before, and it wasn't a problem. As a matter of fact, after reviewing his performance record, the Metool in question is one of the best workers up on SKYLIGHT.

Message delay; Body edited September 1st. Continues as follows.

You've probably heard about it already, but…Jessica Xanthos finally died. They did all they could, but her cancer was just too ferocious. From what Oliver told me, she fought to the end, staying lucid by refusing pain medications that could have helped her. She was always stubborn like that.

I won't be around the office for a couple of days. For now, keep on doing your best up at SKYLIGHT. You've got robots you can be proud of.

I'll let Oliver know you're thinking about him. Days like this, when our friends are dying, Al…

I really do miss having you around. Come back soon.

-Thomas Light

Mykonos Island, The Aegean Sea

September 3rd, 2059 C.E.

9:47 A.M.

Jessica Xanthos was buried on the island of Mykonos, under a sky so brilliantly blue it stung the eyes. She had never been as popular or charismatic as her husband, and the long, drawn out battle she had fought against her cancer had caused most everyone to write her off as dead already.

Only a scattered handful of people who knew her and Oliver Xanthos were in attendance.

Dr. Thomas Light glanced around in the small circle of faces, seeing Second Rainbow personnel intermixed with souls from Xanthos's disbanded organization he hadn't seen in years. Many were solemn. A few were sympathetic. Most, like Light, stared over the closed casket in the cemetery, and saw in Xanthos' defeated expression some fragment of their own suffering.

Light had never been able to bury his fiancée, and his unspoken thought as he watched Oliver's world collapse was selfish and cruel. The scientist finally swallowed and took a step back from the abyss. Nobody could say how Oliver felt, or that he had been lucky in any way. Death's sting touched everyone without mercy.

The priest gave the final blessings in Greek, leaving most of the assembled mourners in the dark. Light listened with half an ear as the man spoke of the life beyond death, a world without pain and suffering. Even that was a bitter pill to swallow.

For all the Second Rainbow's hard work, life on Earth was still years from any sense of true peace. If we all live that long.

"Amen." As fast as it had begun, the ceremony was over. Jessica's casket was lowered into the ground, and the crowd began to disperse. Some vanished. Most paused by Oliver long enough to share their sympathies.

Light remained rooted to the spot, struck in that scene of death and memories. He was glad when someone familiar came up beside him.

"I'm glad you could make it, Dr. Light." Darwin Vinkus said. His tone was subdued, polite and respectful. "I didn't think you'd be able to make it."

Light smiled faintly and watched the small crowd of people filter past Oliver. "Al's the one lost up in space. My company's taking care of itself, and Titus keeps me filled in on the details. The only other thing I do these days is sit around the house and get fat and sedentary."

"And we get older." Darwin pointed out. At forty-six years old, Dr. Light only nodded his head.

"Yeah. Some of us get older faster, though. Why haven't you quit the United Nations yet?"

"Maybe because I feel like nobody else is qualified to do the job I have." Vinkus replied. "Maybe because nobody else is interested in the job."

"Dar, if there was someone interested in going into politics, you'd be worried about it."

Representative Vinkus cracked a smile. "There is that, yes." He resumed his blank expression. "I don't recognize a lot of these people. Are they old members of Oliver's organization?"

"Some of them." Light explained. "A lot of them are members of his family. That's three of his brothers there, and their wives and kids. And grandkids."

Vinkus narrowed his eyes and stared out. "How many siblings does he have?"

"Seven of them survived the Wars."

"Christ on a shingle, that's a huge family. What were his parents? Rabbits?"

"No. Just Greek."

"Ah. Well, that explains it then." Vinkus rubbed at his chin. "They weren't very close though, were they?"

"Oliver was the youngest." Light said. "Without much of an inheritance or share in the family trade, he made his own trail in life. I don't think the others ever forgave him for that."

"It's days like this that make me glad I have few attachments." Vinkus switched the conversation back over. The two still conversed side by side without looking at each other, which didn't bother either man in the slightest. "It makes burying them hurt less."

"Funny." Light exhaled. "It always seemed to make it hurt more for me."

"What's the old line? A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic?" Vinkus prodded.

"Joseph Stalin." Light said, attributing the quote.

"Yeah." Vinkus slid his hands into his pockets. "Jessica was a good woman."

"One of the best." Light agreed. "She even saved my life once. Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you hadn't." Vinkus smiled again. "But I know that she was able to bring out the best in Oliver. If it hadn't been for her…"

"We'd still have a Mr. X to worry about?" Light finished the sentence. "I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't thought the same thing once or twice."

"It might have made things easier for us." Vinkus went on. "Not right at first, but in the long run."

"How, exactly?" Light demanded, puzzled at his friend's new line of thinking. "How would the presence of Mr. X have helped?"

"It would have given us somebody to blame. To rally against." Vinkus was suddenly very cool and composed. "Epoch wasn't enough. You can't get angry at a big rock. We still need somebody to hate. Without a true villain, the masses can't rally behind the light."

"Do you really think that's true?" Light asked. "It would be one thing if you were just musing, but…Do you actually think we're doomed without a villain?"

"Twenty years ago, we watched it happen." Vinkus finally glanced over his arm at the scientist. "It's only been 20 years and people are already losing their way again. A villain is a compass, Tom. Until we evolve our own, a villain is the best way to know where not to go."

"I don't believe that." Light shook his head. It was a testament to their friendship that they could discuss it so frankly. "We won't destroy ourselves. We have the Second Rainbow's promise, for one. And our robots for another. Our new technologies make it very difficult to be lost again. Robots will end up saving us, just like they are in SKYLIGHT."

"Perhaps." Darwin finally agreed. The man younger than Light, but far more tired and worn, shrugged his shoulders. "I just wish we were wise enough to save ourselves."

"There's always tomorrow." Light said. "The hope of that is what keeps me going some days." He pointed towards Xanthos, where the crowd of well-wishers was finally thinned out to a scant few. "Come on. Let's go say hello."

Xanthos put on a faint smile as the two approached. "I saw you two hiding in the back earlier. I suppose you didn't feel like meeting my relatives?"

"Not especially, no." Vinkus answered easily. "I'm more interested in how you're feeling."

"My wife is dead, Darwin." Oliver said. His smile stayed up, but only by a thread. "How do you think I feel?"

Light closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Oliver. She was a good woman."

"The best." Mr. Xanthos agreed. "But death claims us all. It's just a joke that it took her instead of me first." The multibillionaire snorted and went on. "The only good thing is she'll face oblivion faster than the rest of us."

"So you don't believe what that preacher just got done saying, then?" Light was shocked at Oliver's callous remarks. "About a better life after?"

"Thomas, I don't know what to believe any more." Oliver shook his head, and the first hint of tears began to well up in his eyes. "I don't even know whether to just accept this as chance, or see it as punishment for all the things I did in the past. The only thing I do know is I'm getting off of this island as fast as I can."

"What? Why?" Darwin blinked. "This is your home. Mykonos."

"It may be, but it's not where I need to be." Oliver snapped. He spun around, then spun back, as though he wasn't sure which direction he was going. "I…I just want to get away. I have to. I need to be alone."

"Oliver, that's madness!" Darwin argued. The U.N. Representative waved his arm wildly. "Your wife just died. Being alone is the last thing you need. You need to be around friends, people who care for you…"

"NO!" Xanthos yelled. There was panic in his eyes now. "Don't you get it? There's nothing else here for me now!"

"Oliver…!"

Light reached over and squeezed Darwin's shoulder. "That's enough." The scientist said evenly. The now crying Xanthos and the frustrated Vinkus turned towards him. "I know exactly how Oliver feels. He wants to get away for a while, to take a break from everything. He needs to find himself again. I'd let him, Darwin. I lost my fiancée once, and it's what I did."

"You disappeared for seven years." Darwin muttered. "I don't know if we…I…could go that long without Oliver around."

"What, you think I'm going to disappear off the face of the Earth?" Oliver asked. "You know as well as I do that it'd be impossible to vanish completely. All I'm going to do is get on my boat and sail off around the world for a while. When it's less painful, I'll come back."

The multi-billionare hugged both Representative Vinkus and Dr. Light, and gave them one final sad smile. "Don't worry, I won't die. Jessica would never forgive me if I rolled over just because she left me."

"Just come back." Light said. "Take as much time as you need, but come back. We still need you."

"Because the Second Rainbow needs me?" Xanthos inquired. "Or my money, at least?"

"No." Light shook his head. "Because you're a friend. And I have too few of those left anymore."

"Yeah." Xanthos exhaled. He took a step away and pointed to the sky. "I leave the world to you two. May you do a better job of serving its interests than I ever did."

His wife now dead and buried, Oliver Xanthos walked away from his friends and headed for the docks below at the shores of Mykonos. Vinkus and Light both stood in the cemetery, neither one willing to follow him or offer a comeback. Somehow, it wouldn't have been appropriate.

Darwin waited until the man was out of earshot to speak to Light again. "He's the first member of the Second Rainbow to leave us. I realized that just now."

Light blinked, and gave Representative Vinkus a half glance. "What are you talking about? We've had people quit the Second Rainbow before. Ezriah Hyrmue, for instance."

"Yes, but Dr. Hyrmue still ended up working with us to accomplish vital goals." Vinkus furrowed his brow. "When Oliver sails off…we'll lose him. Somehow, that's frightening."

"People come and people go." Light pointed out. "It's not like he's leaving forever. He'll come back."

"Yeah?" Darwin mused. "And what will he come back to, exactly?"

A cool salty breeze washed past them and kept on going, soaring to the northeast.

The wind was growing cold.

Sennet Robotics

Sao Paulo, Brazil

November 10th, 2059 C.E.

8:31 P.M.

There was a point of no return to the feasibility of any business. There was a point, and Trenton Corbun and Sennet Robotics had finally reached it.

They had run out of money. Every loan request had been denied. Orders had dried up. Trenton had lost every option available, every path which could have saved his life's work.

Except one.

A torn up and retaped business card was clutched between a shaky thumb and index finger. His phone, an older vox only model, sat heavy in his other hand.

The dial tone rang, waiting.

He had been thinking this very wrong decision over for months. It made the act of calling the number too easy, because he'd done all the agonizing over it he ever could have already.

Every finger press on the number pad stabbed home like an icy dagger, and the pang of remorse faded quickly. The phone dialed. It connected.

"Steve Wilcox." The voice on the other end of the line said. To Trenton, it may as well have been the Devil speaking.

"It's Corbun."

"Trenton?" The head of Sennet heard the sounds of Steve shifting around in his seat. "This is an unexpected surprise. And I'm not saying that to be cute, either."

Trenton shut his eyes. "Do you remember that discussion we had some months ago?"

"Vividly." Steve answered, too smoothly for Trenton's sensibilities. "Although I'd written it off as a flop a month and a half ago."

"Is…the offer still on the table?"

The line was silent for a few seconds.

"You know, Trenton, you would probably make a horrible poker player. Your company is circling the drain. You had a pretty good bargaining position three months ago. As it stands, I could demand a whole lot more from you, because I know as well as you do that Sennet is doomed without my help. Hell, I could wait for you to declare bankruptcy and swallow your company without a whole lot of trouble at all." Steve went quiet again, and Trenton felt a big lump well up in his throat.

"Luckily for you, I'm a nicer guy than that. The deal's still good. I flex my muscle with the government to get your Big Mouth contract approved, and you give me what I want."

Trenton discovered he couldn't swallow. "Plasma cannon technology."

"Plasma weapons technology." Steve corrected him proudly. "Oh, and one last thing. If you were thinking about double crossing me…"

"Farthest thing in my mind."

"Good. That's good." Trenton could hear the man's sick smile. "I'd hate for everything to fall apart. All right then. You just sit back, Mr. Corbun, and I'll get the ball rolling. And how about you fly up and you and I do a little "Research and Development" in, oh, say five days?"

"So soon?" Corbun managed to croak.

"Trenton, Trenton." Steve chided him. "We come all this way and you start to get cold feet on me? You gotta strike while the iron is hot! Do you need me to send a plane for you?"

"NO!" Trenton exclaimed. "No, that's…I'll find my own way to the states."

"See you in five days, then." Steve hung up, and the line clicked dead.

Trenton sat there at his desk for a good long while after that, thinking to himself that it was finally done. He hoped it would be worth the cost to his morals and his friendships.

It was barely twenty minutes later that his phone rang, jarring him from his confused cloud of thoughts. Trenton picked it up on reflex. "Hello?"

"Dr. Corbun?"

"Yes?"

"This is Captain Stevenson, United States Navy, aide to Admiral Paulsey. I'm pleased to inform you that Admiral Paulsey has decided to accept your Big Mouths robot contract."

"He did?" There was a feeling between exhilaration and disgust, and Trenton had discovered it for the first time. "But he was the one who was blackballing my project to begin with!"

"Times change, Dr. Corbun. The Admiral is convinced that your robots are exactly what the United States needs for exploring its offshore resources. You'll be receiving our first payment, as well as official approval, within a week's time."

The line went dead for a second time that night, and Trenton finally allowed himself to slump forward and cry.

He'd made a deal with the devil, and only after had he learned how firmly Wilcox's control over the entire mess had been. Unable to influence any other member of the Buster Cannon development team, Wilcox had arranged it. He had to have been the one responsible. The head of U.S. Robotics agreeing to his terms, and suddenly the U.S. Navy, less than half an hour later, saying that Sennet wasn't doomed?

"What have I done?" Trenton whispered. "What in God's name have I done?"

Project SKYLIGHT

December 24th, 2059 C.E.

6:37 P.M.

We all miss you down here, Al. Get that project finished up and get back here. I wish I could send you your Christmas present, but the next materials launch for SKYLIGHT isn't until January. I'll give you a hint, though. It starts with "M" and rhymes with "ister Coffee."

Cheers,

-Tom

Wily chuckled and dismissed the E-Mail. "You smarmy son of a bitch." He stood up, grateful for the artificial gravity aboard the space station, and glanced around his private quarters.

There was a knock at the door. He moved over to answer it, and when the door hissed open, it was Cosmonaut Grigori Kechmenov, slightly inebriated with a half drunk bottle of vodka in his grip, that glanced back at him. "Aah, Comrade Wily! What are you doing there in, all alone? Hmm? It is Christmas Eve. You should be out here, getting drunk with rest the of us!"

Wily raised an eyebrow at the man's slurred speech and smiled a bit. "It sounds like you're soused enough already, Greg."

"Bah! Ha ha ha!" Grigori reached in the door and yanked Wily out into the public quarters of SKYLIGHT's residential section. Cheerful Christmas music, the smells of freshly baked cookies and meat (Now that they could actually cook aboard the station), and the scent of more than one kind of alcohol all wafted around through the air. Apparently the air purifiers were having a hard time keeping up with all the strange smells. Wily made a mental note to have one of the engineers check the active carbon filters.

Here, though, Wily saw a room full of people and laughter and love. In this room were all the good things he struggled to protect. Camraderie. The best and brightest trying to save their kinsmen and their planet from certain doom. Understanding and cooperation that crossed every nationality and faith. Grigori was Russian Orthodox, and one of his best friends on the station was Rahjani Jahrvi of India, a certified Hinduist.

It was enough to make even his permanent frown disappear.

Grigori tapped him on the shoulder, and Wily found a glass of vodka shoved in front of his nose. "Here, comrade. Drink! Tonight is night of hope, of happiness, of partying!"

Wily accepted the glass, nodded in reply, and offered a toast. "To SKYLIGHT, then? To saving the world?"

"Prekasneya." Grigori grinned back, complimenting him.

Wily took a long drink of the vodka and let it burn all the way down his throat. This was the good stuff. Triple distilled, probably.

The music in the room switched to a slow and soft carol. The room's conversations grew quiet, because if there was one song that everyone regardless of religion could sing and believe in…

It was Silent Night. All references aside, the melody, the hope for a brighter tomorrow…those endured.

Someone started singing, and soon, others followed.

Not much of a singer himself, Wily leaned back, savored his vodka, and nodded.

Here, high above the earth, they truly did have heavenly peace.

Dr. Light's House, Shugoya Treeborg Preserve

Tokyo, Japan

December 30th, 2059 C.E.

11:22 A.M.

Choices. Life was all about choices. Some days, Light agonized over them, and today was one of them.

He stared between the three varieties of beer he kept in the refrigerator. "Man. Tough one."

At his feet, Eddie beeped at him. Light glanced down at the robot and lifted an eyebrow. "What do you think, Eddie? What should we load you up with next? Heineken, Killian's, or Sapporo?"

The red Fliptop spun its optics around.

"Sapporo it is, then. Pop the hatch, Eddie, and I'll fill you up."

Following Light's order, Eddie obediently opened the top of his head up to reveal the storage cooler hidden inside. Can by can, Dr. Light filled the robot up with alcohol, and closed the lid when he was done. "There you go, Eddie. Loaded up and primed to go."

Eddie beeped at him again and popped the lid to display his monitor.

Surgeon General's Warning: Alcohol has been scientifically proven to limit mental capacity and may lead to memory loss, blurred vision, and loss of motor control.

"Your point being?"

Dr. Light, your health is a primary concern. First Law Precedence.

"First Law Precedence. First Law Precedence." Light mimicked, rolling his eyes. The scientist walked out of the kitchen, and Eddie trotted after him. "You know, I'm getting really tired of hearing robots saying that phrase to me. You say it, that robot up on SKYLIGHT said it, and…"

Eddie bumped into Light's leg when the scientist stopped moving. The red robot beeped inquisitively.

"I'm so stupid." Light muttered. He reached down and picked Eddie up, then dashed for the laboratory. "Eddie, I know how I'm going to find it!"

Eddie closed his lid to save the mechanism from the jarring trip and beeped another unsure tone.

"Your brain is the key!"

Eddie decided he did not favor this particular line of thinking, and kicked out his small feet comically in the air.

Inside the laboratory, Light set him down on a counter and leaned down until he was at eye level with the robot. "You act a lot like RD-224 does from SKYLIGHT. He acts like you. And I'm convinced that it isn't a fluke. There were a lot of unique routes in his pathways, and if I can run a full scan of yours, then I might just find what the two of you have in common. Something made the two of you different, I'm positive."

Steady on the countertop, Eddie popped his lid open and printed out another line of text.

A full positronic scan would require full systems shutdown with minimal power settings.

"Yeah, I know. I know." Light sighed. "I'll owe you, all right? Please, this is a mystery that's been bugging me for months now."

I estimated there was a 42 percent chance you would never think of doing a cross-reference.

"Wait, what?" Light blinked. "You thought about doing a cross-reference with RD-224?"

The bulk of my duties entails 'shooting brews', answering the telephone, and acting as a waste receptacle after one of Wily's alcoholic binges. There is ample opportunity for cause and effect analysis.

"You mean you had time to think. So how come you didn't tell me?"

The possibility of a full scan carries a certain analytical weight. Do you wish to make full shutdown an order, Dr. Light?

The scientist stared at Eddie, and Eddie stared back at him.

"If I made it an order, you would have to comply." Light said softly. "And I may sound crazy, but I listen…or rather, I read what you're saying to me, Eddie, and I'm sensing something. You're worried."

The robot blinked at him. Worry is an emotion. Robots are emotionless.

"Are you?" Dr. Light prodded. "I wonder. Let me ask you this. If you had the choice between turning this full scan down or going through with it, what would you do?"

Without Second Law Precedence, Third Law Precedence would take effect. I would refuse the full scan. A full systems shutdown is more complete than the 'hibernation mode' given by stasis recharge, and has resulted in sporadic cases of positronic anomalies in other robots.

"Eddie, use simpler words. Give it to me without the jargon. Assume for a moment that maybe you can get worried. How does that change your answer?"

…Error. Cannot compile statement.

Crestfallen, Light stood back up and leaned away from Eddie. "So there was a stopping point in your evolution, after all." The scientist said. "Very well. Eddie, I'm making this an order. I apologize for it. Please initialize a full system shutdown."

Understood. What timestamp do you anticipate completion of the full positronic scan?

"Tomorrow night." Light assured the robot. He looked up for a moment and smiled. "New Year's Eve, actually."

Is this humorous in some fashion?

"It's fitting." Light said, and Eddie's optics powered down, the first critical system to deactivate. Of his sensory package, his auditory sensors were the last, so he could hear every word that his creator said until then. "You'll wake up in a new year, with new possibilities. And I'll be right here beside you."

There was nothingness then, disturbing and complete.

But thankfully, for Eddie's thought processes…

Over and done before he could think about it.

From the Diary of Dr. Thomas X. Light

January 1st, 2060 C.E.

It's 2060. Thirteen years have passed since Albert tracked me down in the Canadian wilderness and brought me to civilization. To the Second Rainbow. It's customary to look forward at this time of year, but I find that most of my time is spent looking backwards. Maybe because looking forward is painful, and filled with an uncertainty that stretches across everything.

Triumphs and tragedies littered the road behind us. I've made my peace with Al and then some. He's my best friend now, and the Wars did more to make that a reality than anything else. Others have joined in those bonds of friendship and camaraderie. Trenton Corbun, who I jokingly call "our great rival," is one. Titus Grant, Darwin Vinkus, and Oliver Xanthos are others. Of course, these days Titus spends most of his time keeping LightTech running smoothly while Al and I sequester ourselves away and think up the big ideas, Darwin grows older and grayer and withered struggling with the United Nations, the world population at large, and even scientists within the Rainbow who argue constantly. And Oliver? After he lost Jessica, he just left. He got on board his Tri-Catamaran hydrofoil, the Socrates and we haven't seen him since. Were it not for the GPS marker that the United Nations insisted his ship carry, we wouldn't even know he was still alive. In time, he'll come back to us. It's just him dealing with his pain of loss in his own way. I haven't cried over Vanessa recently, but I feel the memory of her fading anyhow.

The memories of those who died linger in name and event. Their faces are what become blurred to me.

Eddie is up and operational again. He was a bit sluggish at first, but that's only because a full systems shutdown, which I did to do a full scan of him, is never fun. Our bodies don't like being put completely down under anesthesia, either. It works much the same for our Core Module robots. But, he suffered no positronic abnormalities because of it, and even was enough of a smartass to give me a beer…after jostling himself enough that I was covered in sudsy foam when I popped the tab. I'm more convinced than ever that Eddie has picked up a definable personality. He's a real card.

I haven't done the comparison between his scan and RD-224's yet, but when I get around to it, it won't take me that long at all. I've asked myself why there's hesitation, why I just don't do the side by side comparison and get it over with.

Maybe I'm afraid to know. What if there isn't a match in their pathways that can explain their curiosity, their penchant for learning?

What if there is one?

The future comes like a snowstorm. Looming, ominous. When it arrives, it always blinds us, and it's never quite the same.

Epoch arrives in four months.

Please, God. Let us be ready for it.

United Nations General Assembly

New Amsterdam

January 8th, 2060 C.E.

9:58 A.M.

Sessions of the U.N. were digitally recorded and broadcast around the world, for those who had the time and interest to pay attention to the international institution. Cameras spun around the room and locked on the Secretary General.

An older, but hawk-eyed woman, the Nigerian member Hona Bashwari pointed to a face in the crowd. "The chair recognizes Representative Vinkus of the Second Rainbow."

Darwin Vinkus, middle-aged but seemingly in his mid-fifties by the stresses of his job, rose up from his chair and lifted a document up with him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, those of you who know the work of the Second Rainbow are also aware that the best and brightest that the world has to offer are working to resolve a host of problems facing us today. Already, we have reversed the course of global warming, restored the ozone layer, created durable and hardy crops, cleaned up vast swaths of the earth's surface, and perfected new technologies and power sources that will be of vast benefit to humanity.

"Most importantly, everything we have done was done to rescue our own species. The Second Rainbow is a coalition that has made it possible for people to live again, to breathe again, to eat and raise families again. We have been living in a time of great challenges, and the Second Rainbow stands as the shield for the human race against its greatest trial…The Meteor Storm called Epoch. Naysaying aside, I firmly believe that we will triumph, and that the human race will live."

The rest of the delegates shuffled in their seat and glanced around, wondering where exactly Representative Vinkus was going with his discussion.

He surprised them all when he tore his prepared speech into pieces and glared at the nearest camera. "That's why I get so pissed off whenever someone else brings up the idea that we're doomed."

Dr. Light's Laboratory

Dr. Light's jaw was slack as Vinkus ripped his documents to shreds and snapped at the camera. "Can you say that in the United Nations?" He asked himself. Eddie glanced up from his spot on the counter four feet away and shrugged with a rise and fall of his head. And Darwin kept talking, the television screen filled with his seething anger.

"There's always been nutcases promising the end of the world. They got a boost during the Wars. But ever since we got the world back on its feet in 2050, there's no place for that kind of nonsense, not publicly. Not now. And what do I have to hear? Do I hear that there are people PROUD of the work that the Second Rainbow is doing? That they're supporting us all the way? That people are even grateful that there's a group of highly intelligent and vastly talented people who are struggling day and night to make their lives just a little bit easier?"

"No, as much as that's what we should hear, it's not what's given a voice. Instead, we have to put up with idiots who are going around, marching, arguing, screaming that the human race is supposed to just die out. If you visit the Second Rainbow Headquarters in Alaska, you know what you see when you look out the window? Protestors holding up signs. And they're protesting the group's efforts to sustain the world and humanity out of the ashes of the stupidity they feel the need to repeat. Gehenna's End? More violent factions? Suicide bombers, like that fuck who thought it would be a good idea to bomb the Jet Propulsion Laboratory? That didn't work, by the way. SKYLIGHT marches on, and it WILL be built, and it WILL be ready for Epoch."

Project SKYLIGHT

Aboard the space station, the human crew sat in the lounge around the singular TV screen and watched, transfixed, as Darwin Vinkus rattled on. He'd even sworn.

"They'll sack him for sure now." One European astronaut grumbled. "He's breathing fire and brimstone on international television."

A cold fire burned in Wily's eyes, and the scientist twirled the end of his mustache. "Don't be so sure on that. Darwin's got bluntness down to a fine art; When he uses it, people shut up and listen."

"This message isn't for the people who still have brains in their heads, and the desire and will to keep on living. This little speech is solely for the small percentage of the population who are apparently so sick of life that they want it all to come burning down around them. If you really want to die that badly, then go ahead. Believe me, at the Second Rainbow, we keep track of how awful too many places on this planet still are. Go wander off into the desert, and you can dehydrate. Meander into what used to be Paris, if you're up for a little radiation sickness and a painful, cancerous death with your hair falling out. Hell, Las Vegas, good old Sin City, is now an electrical wasteland. Enjoy the slot machines, step through the rubble and the wreckage, and all the while, you can choke on the chemical and biological agents that our estimates say will make that city uninhabitable for life until the early 2120's. If travel isn't your thing, whip up a batch of tainted Kool-Aid, and I'll bring the Goddamn Dixie Cups. Do any of those, but shut up. If you're so eager to die, then go die. Leave the rest of us alone, because we're not giving up."

New Shirewick Freshwater Facility, Employee Lounge

Antarctica

Dr. Seymour Froid smiled softly, and felt the wrinkles on his aged face thin out.

"That's the way, Vinkus." The old water purification engineer said quietly. He sipped at his tea and kept watching the miracle unfold. This was the world that his son, Cedric, had inherited.

This was the world they all still fought for.

"Do we have problems we need to deal with? Yes. We don't need doomsayers adding to them. This is a serious time, with serious challenges that will be faced by serious people. If you're not one of them, then shut up and leave us alone. Oh, there is one last thing I'd like to add. Those protestors from Gehenna's End who've been marching outside the fence at SRHQ? That isn't U.S. property you're marching on; it's Second Rainbow property. And since the Second Rainbow was duly constituted under Emergency Powers granted by the United Nations, your "Right to protest", which you so lovingly like to cradle to, doesn't apply. Sod off, or I will have you arrested. You've got until I get back home to Ewan Lake before I start cracking heads."

Vinkus turned away from the camera, presumably to glance towards the Secretary General. "I believe that's all I have to say at this time, Madame Bashwari."

The African diplomat managed a dry, expressionless stare. "I would hope so, Representative Vinkus."

There was dead silence in the United Nations' chambers, as those few restless members of the "Doomsaying" minority shuffled in their seats nervously and waited for the censure and condemnation of Darwin Vinkus' rant from their leader.

None came. Not missing a beat, Secretary General Hona Bashwari glanced down at her display and cleared her throat. "Is there any other new business to bring before this body?"

Nobody said a word. "No? Then this session of the General Assembly is concluded." She rapped a gavel on her desk. "Our next meeting will be next week, at this same time."

Seymour Froid smiled wider, and glanced out of the thick transparisteel window of the water collection and treatment facility that was his omnipresent home. A sturdy Treeborg palm tree waved in the moaning blizzard.

"Life in the wastes." Dr. Froid mused, looking back to the TV. The camera had gone back to Vinkus, who sat with a stoic and determined expression. "Hope in the government. Miracles are possible."

Project SKYLIGHT

February 18th, 2060

1:43 P.M.

The Electromagnetic Accelerator rings had been the most difficult part of it all. Each had needed to be precisely manufactured with metals and metallic alloys with specific mixtures. Even with the SMSM, getting it to product the precise mix of Gallium, Copper, Iron, and other elements had been difficult.

But all the frustrations, breakdowns, and unforeseeable hitches had been dealt with, the robotic workforce of KIFs, Suzys, and Metools had performed above and beyond all expectations, and the last EMA ring was set in place. At the core of SKYLIGHT, with all its many glittering solar-paneled petals curved around it, the space station shaped like a flower in bloom had gained the weapon it had been built for. The Buster Cannon was complete.

Surrounded by a small swarm of work-dome enclosed Metools, Dr. Albert William Wily stood magnetically clamped to the decking of SKYLIGHT, protected from the void of open space only by his spacesuit. Cosmonaut Grigori Kechmenov, who had become his unofficial "Best friend" aboard the station, floated nearby. "Comrade Wily, are you sure about this?"

"I've run successful simulations, but am I sure?" Wily replied, raising an eyebrow that the Cosmonaut couldn't make out through the anti-glare visor of his suit's helmet. "No. In theory, this should be able to blow a crater in the Moon the size of Rhode Island, if we felt so inclined. We won't know its exact properties until we turn the damn thing on, power up the coils, and fire a fully powered shot."

"And pray." Grigori mused.

"If you're the sort who needs to." Wily agreed solemnly. He keyed up his radio to a new frequency. "SKYLIGHT Command, this is Wily. We are go for the test sequence."

"Roger that, Angry German. We're diverting power to the Buster Cannon capacitors now."

Grigori laughed. "The Angry German. I love that nickname."

"Oh, please." Wily groaned. "It was bad enough when people called me the Mad Scientist. I don't need to be pissed off on top of being insane. What am I, a nefarious villain?"

"Not in this lifetime." Grigori motioned to the heart of SKYLIGHT, and the open tunnel that lay within. "Now, stop talking to me and fire that thing. What are you using for a target, anyhow?"

"We synthesized a ball of rock and iron approximately 3 meters in diameter, and set it out beyond us at a distance of 200 kilometers. It's the best we can do, without actually having an asteroid come within striking distance." Wily brought up his backlit LCD touch panel and pressed a series of buttons on the screen. "And that was the easy part. To hit it, a lot of things need to happen in order. A lot can go wrong with this big gun."

"Such as?"

"Ah ah ah." Wily waved a finger at the Cosmonaut. "If I told you what, you'd learn too much about the Buster Cannon. And I can't have that."

There was a slight vibration that ran up Wily's legs through the magnetic clamps in his suit's boots as SKYLIGHT slowly turned its massive bulk about. Powerful maneuvering thrusters released jets of synthesized hydrogen without fear of explosion in the void, turning the station's face outwards.

Wily glanced at his screen. "Radar arrays locked on. Targeting sensors active. Charge sequence initiated." He glanced up and stared into the emptiness of space, lit only by the distant twinkle of stars light years beyond.

All of SKYLIGHT seemed to hum to life, and even in the void, Wily swore he could hear the whine of the Buster Cannon.

It was charging.

At the back of the barrel inside SKYLIGHT's core, the reflecting mirrors used for the solar cannon retracted in. Only moments after they cleared into their holding pens, the EMA rings began to glow. Only visible inside of the barrel, it seemed as though the entire fifteen meter wide corridor took on a brilliant blue sheen.

Vast amounts of power from the station's nuclear fusion generators poured into the Cannon's synthesis modules, and up into the EMA rings. A small cluster of blinding white and yellow particles began to glow at the back, confined only by an electromagnetic field that gave the bursts a loose sense of definition, and kept the roiling plasma from exploding inside of the barrel.

When the electromagnetic "shell" could hold no more hydrogen-borne plasma, the charge advanced in the only direction possible; down the barrel, pushed away from its source. It hit the first ring, and a new wave of power surged into the shot. The field strengthened itself, feeding on the raw power of the now roaring green energy it contained. When the power increased to the shell, so did the speed.

So intent was Wily on watching the end of the portal that he missed a small and minor blip in the first EMA ring; the sudden surge of power had weakened the electromagnetic shell in the rear just enough to let a tiny blot of plasma, no bigger than a pair of sunglasses, slip out and impact against the side. The barrel had taken the abuse in stride, but the radiant heat had struck at a panel covering one small, but necessary secondary power junction box that kept the first ring stabilized. The panel, designed to transmit energy as effectively as the rest of the cannon, took the blow and let the heat and power pass through it without so much as discoloring from the impact. Only the power cables underneath inside the box suffered irreparable damage. Once the shot had passed, the ring powered down. Save for that one missed blip, nothing seemed amiss.

The electromagnetic shell, with its myriad pellets of plasma, continued on. It slammed through the second and third rings, getting further increases in power. By the fourth ring, one second later, the power was such was Wily's connected device flared stronger warnings about the threshold being reached, and showed stress fatigue.

The fifth ring hit the redline.

The sixth ring, designed to handle the greatest amount of strain and the greatest power load, was the only one of the last that performed as expected. Without complaint, it fed the final 5 Terajoules of power into the shotgun blast, and launched the electromagnetic shell clear of the Buster Cannon.

To those who watched, it seemed as if SKYLIGHT suddenly had belched a massive wave of plasma; not a single toroidal bullet, not a laser beam, but a river of glowing particles, all shades of white and blue and awe-inspiring crimson. It held together as that river for kilometers, and then slowly, steadily, spread out without losing any of its power.

Behind his helmet's antiglare visor, Wily watched the wave of destructive plasma soar out into the heavens. A lump built up in his throat, and not sure whether to swallow or sob, the scientist witnessed the technological masterpiece of plasma weapons technology. A weapon without peer, and he had built it.

I am become death.

The spreading shotgun blast of supercharged plasma went out, and there was no mistaking that it had hit its intended target. One minor flare of light had perked up in the middle of that maelstrom; just a tiny and instantly vaporized grave marker for where the target mock asteroid had been.

"God almighty, what a weapon." Grigori whispered. It took the Cosmonaut's voice to bring Wily back out of his stupor, and the scientist realized he'd stopped breathing. He took in a deep breath of life-giving oxygen from his compressed air tank, and put away his new feelings of foreboding for the task at hand.

"Yeah, what a weapon all right." Wily answered. He glanced at his touch screen and exhaled. "The target was completely neutralized. That blast…" He waited a few moments before he spoke again. "…That blast is now 8000 kilometers away and still going. Rate of decay indicates it'll fly nearly 150,000 kilometers before that plasma loses enough energy to burn out."

"You could almost hit the moon with that!"

"Not quite, but without the failsafes, you could annihilate Earth." Wily repeated.

"Angry German, this is SKYLIGHT control. We were ready for it, but that shot took a whole lot out of our power reserves. Battery banks are recharging, but I doubt we could get more than one shot in per minute."

"Acknowledged, Command." Wily replied. "One shot a minute is plenty. It looks like we need to go back and refit EMA rings 4 and 5 for increased power load and transfer strain. The rest…the rest are all green."

"A refit? As in, we need to open that thing up and pull out two of those bulky rings, resynthesize, AND rebuild them all over again?"

"We'll be cutting it close, I know." Wily snapped. "But we don't have much of a choice. The cannon damn near blew itself apart at the end. This thing's got more power than a nuke, you know. We're literally launching a barrage of miniature suns."

He turned to the vast swath of robots that hovered around and behind him. "All right, all of you! We've still got a lot of work to do, and only three months to get it done in! Prep the Buster Cannon for a refit, and disassemble EMA 4 and 5!"

Their orders given, the fleet of KIFs, Suzys, and Metools soared towards the still cooling barrel.

Grigori Kechmenov took a few plodding steps closer to Wily. "Do you think that we will still make the deadline?"

"We may not get the chance to do another test fire, but yes." Wily answered solemnly. "The only alternative is annihilation. I'm just grateful we only need to replace two of the rings."

Aboard SKYLIGHT, machines bustled and hummed with more work yet to be done on EMA Ring 4 and 5.

The secondary power junction box next to EMA 1, with its crippling damage, went undiscovered.

Dr. Light's House

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve, Tokyo, Japan

February 20th, 2060 C.E.

10:32 P.M.

Something was out of place. An anomaly.

Sluggishly, Eddie opened his large optics and pulled himself out of another well-deserved and system refreshing stasis cycle. Sitting within his own private nook in Dr. Light's laboratory, he could make out the open door that led to the house's main hallway.

A light was on in the living room.

The doctor was still up.

The robot walked out and easily spotted Light. His Creator was a very bulky human, and was growing grayer and rounder as the years had gone by. Dr. Light was sitting in his favorite recliner, and his laptop was lying on the stand beside him. The screen was dark, but given the radius of heat from it, it was still active.

His eyes were watering. Tears, Eddie surmised from his past observations.

Dr. Light was crying.

Eddie took a running start and headbutted the side of Dr. Light's chair to get the man's attention. The scientist recoiled for a moment, but righted himself soon enough after the scare and looked down. "Oh, it's just you, Eddie."

The red Fliptop glanced up at him and blinked its eyes. He popped his lid open and flipped up his screen.

It is past the beginning of your optimal rest cycle. Why are you still active?

"I'm…I was just thinking." Light rubbed the tears out of his eyes and smiled down at Eddie. "I had a project I was finishing up."

Wirelessly, Eddie connected with Light's laptop and made a screen capture behind the hibernation. One glance told him everything.

You found a correlation between the SKYLIGHT Metool RD-224 and myself.

"How did you…Oh. Right. Wireless router." Light closed the lid of his laptop to power it down. "Remind me to start encrypting my user accounts from you. I don't want you glancing at all my projects.

Noted. Query: What upsets you?

"I don't know. That's the problem." Light sniffed. "I wanted to know, right? I wanted to know what caused it, and now I do. It's just I'm left thinking, is it better this way? When it was just you, Eddie, it was some freak accident, a miracle. You surprised us. You maybe even scared us a bit at first, but we trusted you, because you were family."

The robot blinked. One has never been called…family.

"Well, aren't you?" Light demanded. "You live with us, you take care of this house for us, you do errands for us. When you need repairing, we fix you. When one of us is sick, you bring us a thermos of chicken soup."

First Law Prece…

"Oh, stop it. Just shut up about the Laws, will you?" Light snapped. "You're not just some damn robot, all right? You're not like the others, and neither is RD-224! All this time, I thought it was an accident you turned out the way you are, wanted to believe that, but now I know it's just…just…"

Eddie thought about Light's strange mood for a moment, and then extrapolated a possibility. With a verifiable similarity in our positronic matrices, you have established that the curiosity and other traits displayed by myself and RD-224 can be duplicated. Therefore, we are no longer 'unique' in your mind.

"You're still special, but…" Light grappled with words that wouldn't come out right. "Is it the right thing to do?"

Request elaboration.

"Eddie, if I'm right, the 'accident' that gave you your enhanced AI, however slight, can be duplicated. It's probably going to take me years to get it up to speed, but if I'm right, I could do it. But is it the right thing to do?"

For who?

"For you!" Light exclaimed. "Eddie, I get excited about new things, I always have. But if I go through with this one, then you won't be the only robot like you in the world. You won't be unique."

An observation: With RD-224 aboard SKYLIGHT, I am not the only robot 'like me.' I am still unsure of your hesitation, Dr. Light. The only explanation which seems to fit is that you believe I would somehow be offended if more robots shared my characteristics.

"You wouldn't?"

I am incapable of emotion, Dr. Light. I have no feelings.

"Do you at least have an opinion?" Light asked. "You have to at least have an opinion. You always have. You don't always say it, but I know you're thinking about us, about the world around you. Maybe you think it's wrong. Maybe you despise us in some way."

The robot and the robotologist stared at one another; the scientist in worry, and his creation with the same blank expression his limited face provided.

As you have specified, Dr. Light, you and Dr. Wily are ones' family. In human civilization, family is a key concept towards wholeness and well being. First Law Precedence: You would do harm to yourself if you went against your instincts. No harm will come to this unit from further developments. As I am incapable of jealousy or resentment, which I surmise you think I might harbor from such a course, my analysis is that you should do as you see fit.

Eddie's screen went blank after that, and a slow, hesitant line of text ran across the screen. More company would be…preferable. With Creator Wily serving aboard SKYLIGHT over the past year, there has been little to do.

Light smiled. "Do you mean to say you're lonely?"

Loneliness is an emotion.

"Yes, it is." Dr. Light agreed, beaming at the eight year old robot.

Eddie's optics blinked once. Please attempt sleep at a decent hour, Creator Light. Your high doses of the stimulant Caffeine are not advised as a substitute.

"Night, Eddie." Light chuckled.

The Fliptop shut his lid and wandered back off into the laboratory to continue his stasis cycle, leaving his Creator sitting in the light of the living room.

By the time Eddie made it up to the laboratory counter and reconnected his charge plug, the light in the living room was off. Eddie closed his eyes again and resumed his stasis cycle, trying desperately to purge the last thought that refused to disappear from his RAM.

Loneliness is an emotion.

May 21st, 2060 C.E.

May 21st was like any other day. People woke up, people worked, they lived and they died.

Nobody fought, though, because suddenly violence seemed all too moot a point. The people of the Earth had been given five years to make their peace, and they had taken the opportunity well.

Aboard his ship, the Socrates, Oliver Xanthos stood at the bow and drank a glass of wine, remembering his wife and a life well spent.

In Alaska, SRHQ Director Paul Van Hostick sat at his desk with his fingers pressed together, waiting in the silence of his office for news, good or bad.

In Brazil, a young "Sergei" Cossack buried himself in his work, finding solace in circuit boards and programming code.

Around what had once been Kansas City, 350 members of Gehenna's End committed mass suicide by poisoned Kool-Aid. The paper cups were not provided by Representative Vinkus, in spite of his fiery speech.

For most of the inhabitants of the world, May 21st was a time best spent with ones' families and friends. No raucous parties were given. Those who could afford it laid out snacks.

And nearly everywhere, a television or radio or internet feed was the centerpoint of all this activity. Not knowing the fate of the world, the humans who lived on it listened in as SKYLIGHT continued a streaming broadcast.

It was the last day that the sun had risen on Earth before Epoch would hit.

It was May 21st.

Project SKYLIGHT

Command Center, Node 1

"Yeah, we're tracking it now." The Commander of Project SKYLIGHT answered. Timothy Zustrick, a native of New Zealand, had been given the command after years of overseeing the dismantling of war machines in the Asian sector. It seemed a weird fit at first, but the man had proven his intelligence was resilient.

SKYLIGHT carried an active crew complement of 30 human residents; that number had ballooned to 50 during construction, as engineers, weapons specialists, and architects swarmed the station to get it all ready.

Commander Zustrick glanced around the Command Center, the heart of the inhabited Node 1 at SKYLIGHT's center of mass. "All right. Just to review, Thatch, give us the rundown."

"Yeah." The man stationed at the radar tracking console refreshed his display and brought it up on the room's main holoprojector. In tinted green crossview, there was the Epoch swarm in all its glory. "Dr. Murges' solar cannon worked like a charm. It burned off nearly all of the remaining water and gas ice left on the fragments. We're left with a swath of meteoroids composed of iron, carbon, and a negligible amount of other minerals. The fusion generators sent up by Dr. Flynn and his associates are running at full strength. The storm's about 25 kilometers wide, with the bulk of its mass occupying the center. The exterior fragments are small enough that the atmosphere'll chew them up without any problems, so our focus is going to be here…"

He reached up and pointed to the dense center of the meteor storm. "This fifteen kilometer swath in the middle. And that's where the Buster Cannon comes in."

Commander Zustrick gave a focused look to Dr. Albert Wily. "That's your baby, Angry German."

Wily rolled his eyes. "Strange nicknames aside, the Buster Cannon is set to go. Since myself and the rest of the team responsible for the Buster Project still fear the misuse of plasma weapons technology, I'll gloss over the details…but in short, here's how it'll work."

He strolled up to the holoprojector's base and slid in a flash drive. The image of Epoch faded away, and was replaced by another image, this time of SKYLIGHT in motion.

"As this simulation shows, we've established the effective range of the Buster Cannon at SKYLIGHT's heart as being 150,000 kilometers; approximately one-third of the distance between Earth and the Moon. At the speed that Epoch's remains have been traveling, that means we'll have approximately one hour and ten minutes to blow it to pieces. That seems like a lot of time, but due to some last minute modifications we had to do on the cannon and our orbital position, we'll only have time for three shots. The rest of the time, we'll either be out of position or the cannon will be recharging."

"Three strikes and we're out, is that it?" One American astronaut piped up. "I didn't take you for a fan of baseball, Wily."

"Irony aside, no, we didn't plan it that way." Wily tapped on the side of his arm and the simulation continued. "The Buster Cannon essentially functions like a rifled shotgun for plasma. The charge begins at the base of the barrel buried inside of SKYLIGHT, and gains power and momentum as it bores down the barrel." The image highlighted the long tube within SKYLIGHT's central hub, and then flashed six rings around the barrel's interior. "It gets those from these six items right here: The Electromagnetic Acceleration, or EMA rings. Each ring gives the shot an added boost of power in precise sequence. These make it feasible for SKYLIGHT to house and power the Buster Cannon; without these rings, we'd need a direct feed from the sun's core to make this happen. When the shot is finally released, the plasma charges will be traveling at a comparable velocity to Epoch itself; a lack of particle resistance in the void of space gives it much greater force. Every 'pellet' within the plasma charge has its own unique electromagnetic field which keeps the shot intact and gives it form. That field will destabilize on impact with Epoch upon a hit, and cause an immediate explosion of released radiant energy…and vaporization."

The simulation ended in a brilliant flash of light and turned itself off. Wily glanced around the control room appraisingly. "Any questions?"

None came.

"Stations, people." Commander Zustrick ordered. "Establish a link to Cape Canaveral. I imagine Dr. Murges will want to know how his baby's coming along. Where's Epoch?"

The radar operator brought up his display again. "It's coming up on the far side of the moon. Three hours until it's in range."

"I could learn to hate waiting." Commander Zustrick remarked. He looked over to Wily. "Are you going to be ready if something goes wrong?"

"Relax." Wily reassured the New Zealander. "I've got a team of Suzys and Mets standing by in case something goes wrong with the EMA rings. It shouldn't, since we just finished the refit…but if it does, we're ready."

"Good." Zustrick still gripped his armrests tightly. "I'd hate to lose one of our three shot opportunities to an engineering foul-up. Especially considering your refusal to share project information with anyone else."

"Were you looking for absolution, Commander?" Wily demanded. "To be free of any blame if this blows up in our face? Fine, you're free! If something goes wrong, I gladly shoulder the burden of responsibility!"

Zustrick blinked. "Fiery rhetoric aside, SKYLIGHT is on all our heads , Doctor. My concern is that the damn thing works."

A hard glint, something between zealous fury and outright madness, sparkled in Wily's eyes. "It will work." The scientist swore. "Of all the inventions man creates, it is the weapons that always succeed. It. Will. Work."

Wily leaned up against a wall, and the fire died out as quick as it had come. The shadow behind him vanished. "As much as I wished it didn't."

Dr. Light's House

Tokyo, Japan

May 21st, 2060 C.E.

9:45 P.M.

Vinkus shut off his phone and clipped it to his belt. "Some mass suicides, but no rioting. No looting. No skirmishes between neighboring enemies. Hell, the troopers along the Congolese border are doing sing-alongs in Swahili."

"What did you expect?" Dr. Light asked him. They sat outside on Light's porch, and watched the starry night sky. Mostly, they glanced in the direction of the moon, waiting for the cloud of debris called Epoch to become visible. Eddie, forever close at hand, walked between the two men with a platter of pepperoni rolls balanced on his head.

"I expected the worst from humanity." Vinkus admitted. "But only a few have lived…or rather, died, to that expectation."

"You know, my father used to say something." Light told the U.N. Representative. "People will always find a way to surprise you. Right now, Dar, people are scared. They don't know if this is the day we die or the day we turn the last corner to rebuilding the world. And for as much as we believe it will all turn out well, only our triumph will convince them that the sun will come up."

"Heh." Darwin put on a sad smile. "Forever the optimist."

"I thought that you refused to believe the possibility of failure…"

"I refused to hear it." Darwin answered. He reached down and picked up a pizza roll. "It doesn't mean I never thought about it myself. And I saw a lot in the U.N. forces, protecting Japan during the Wars. Without people like you, Dr. Wily, and Oliver, I would have long ago given up my faith in our kind."

"That's a dangerous road." Light warned him, looking to his friend. "You can't put your faith in people. Put them in ideas, for those can't disappoint you, even if they do change."

"Words to live by." Vinkus agreed. He chewed his pizza roll thoughtfully and swallowed it. "If this doesn't work…if Epoch is the end…do you have any regrets?"

"Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention." Light hummed. The scientist exhaled after. "Honestly, there's only one regret I do have. I was never able to have children."

"You never gave adoption a try?"

"Be serious, Darwin. Al and I blew up our first house. What adoption agency in its right mind would let a couple of coffee drinking alcoholic nutjobs like us adopt a kid?"

"You gave up smoking. Why not give up the beer?"

"I still keep my pipe around, Darwin. No. I'm too old and too set in my ways to change now."

"You're only 47." Darwin observed.

"Yeah, and you're my age and you look like you're pushing 65." Light retorted with a grin.

"Well, at the rate I'm going, I figure I'll be a living husk in a decade. I'm not afraid to die, Dr. Light. I'm a walking corpse already." Vinkus looked up at the stars. "It isn't too late for you, you know?"

"About my regret?" Light clarified. "The only way that's going to happen now is if I build my children from scratch."

"Well, that won't happen." Vinkus raised his glass of water in a toast. "We are certainly not now that strength which in old days moved Earth and Heaven."

"Quoting Tennyson?" Light noted. "A classic bit of poetry there, but I think I'll reference someone more recent." Light lifted the tray of goodies from Eddie's head. "Eddie, access my music albums. Put Wings on shuffle."

The Fliptop opened his lid, and the first song on the playlist made Darwin smile as the robot's speakers blared out the intro. "Live and Let Die, Tom? You are a sadist."

Chuckling, Light let Paul McCartney do the singing.

And waited.

Unthinking, unfeeling, Epoch's scattered remnants swung around the far side of the Moon and received its last critical gravitational tug. The storm had been traveling for years, and was now little more than jagged pieces of iron, rock, and a loose collection of other minerals in combinations never fully seen.

As an inanimate object turned into a hailstorm of inanimate objects, Epoch could not fathom the course it had taken, or the devastation it would rain upon the blue planet growing larger every passing second. It was a mere act of astronomical chance that had brought it here from its comfortable orbit in the Kuiper Belt, and it had no control of its own destiny.

It simply was itself, as all things are. No more, no less. It could not be victimized or villainized. It certainly could not be ignored.

Fates such as the one it moved towards happened all the time in the vastness of the universe; planetary impacts were a given, by the sheer nature of gravitational interactions.

Had Epoch sentience enough as the last bits of trapped ice water and frozen gases peeled away from it into a hazy blue and red ionized shadow behind it, it might have thought that the planet it moved towards was rather pretty.

Those who had sworn to destroy it would have agreed with such an observation.

Project SKYLIGHT

"It's in range." The radar operator announced nervously.

"Start the countdown." Commander Zustrick announced coolly. He glanced to Dr. Wily. "All right, Doctor. SKYLIGHT's batteries are charged to maximum. Now's your chance."

"Then let's make the best of it." Wily said. He sat down in front of the weapons control panel and accessed the Buster Cannon controls. When the screen shifted to display the weapon at the space station's core, a low undertone of a hum ran through the station. Wily glanced up in surprise, and Zustrick chuckled. "It did that last time, too. Is that normal?"

"Well, yeah. It's the harmonic reso…" Wily caught himself, realizing he'd nearly blown one of the secrets involved with plasma weapons. He coughed loudly and smacked himself in the chest. "Yeah, it's supposed to do that. God, bad cough."

"Right." Zustrick rolled his eyes. "Anything we can do to help?"

"Yes. I'll monitor the Cannon's vitals, but I'd prefer it if someone more versed in firing big guns did the honor of handling the actual targeting. I never was very good with guns."

A chuckle ran through the tense room, and one of the other SKYLIGHT techs came up and took Wily's place. The scientist stood beside the console and kept monitoring the systems readouts.

"That's it. Bring it up slow." Wily coached the gunner. He glanced down at his datapad, and checked a few numbers. "Buffer circuits are holding. Whenever you're ready, power it up."

"Target locked." The technician announced. "Tracking's got a good bead on it. I'm aiming just to the left of its center of mass."

"Good, good." Wily encouraged him. "That storm's big enough it'll take more than one hit to knock down."

The humming inside of the station increased, and the Buster Cannon began its charge.

Deep inside the barrel, EMA Ring 1 started to charge up, as they all did. The others kept a static and low-level charge, but Ring 1 was the first…and the most crucial. It sat at the very base, and its charge would guide all the others. The damaged secondary power junction box, responsible for providing additional bursts of power as needed tried to draw power, but failed to do little more than spark helplessly. The damage from three months before had never been found; the power cable was destroyed.

It was enough to destabilize the shot.

Back inside the Command Center, Wily screamed in panic as warning lights flared up all over the weapons console. "Verdammt! GOT VERDAMMT!" While the stunned technician at the fire controls sat stunned, Wily quickly reached over and hit the emergency kill switch.

"What in God's name was that?" Commander Zustrick demanded, back on his feet.

Wily ignored him and quickly punched out a flurry of commands into his datapad.

"Doctor, what happened?" Zustrick repeated with a shout.

Wild-eyed, doing his best not to fall apart into a lunatic state, Wily whirled on the leader of SKYLIGHT. "The charge was destabilizing. If I hadn't killed it, this entire station could have been blown apart from the backlash."

"What? How?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Wily growled, focusing on the readouts he was receiving from the robotic repair teams that quickly moved towards the barrel and dove down inside. "It's got to be something with the Rings. Damnit!"

Zustrick pressed a hand to his forehead. "What do you want us to do?"

"Shut up and start praying." Wily snapped. "And bring up the Suzy live feed on the main projector."

Cape Canaveral, Florida

7:47 A.M.

Dr. Felman Murges may never have traveled to SKYLIGHT by soaring up into the vastness of space, but it had been his idea to begin with, and he'd done nothing but live and breathe the space station's existence for the last five years. Now with only one hour until the end of the world, the uplink to SKYLIGHT offered nothing but terrible news.

"Can it be fixed?" Murges asked. Panic and anger would do nothing, and he could hear Dr. Wily cursing up enough of a storm in the background to suffice for everyone involved.

Commander Zustrick gave him an apologetic shrug. "We still don't have a good idea of what went wrong yet, but we're working on it. The Angry…Sorry, Dr. Wily told us that it almost overloaded."

Murges dreaded speaking his next question. "Is it sabotage?" The word fell hard over the airwaves.

All he got response after the silence was a long and hard laugh from Wily. "Sabotage?" The German-American expatriate from Japan repeated incredulously. "Impossible. The Buster Cannon was entirely fabricated by the robotic workforce, working under my orders. If anyone else had gotten close to mucking with it or trying to put in other orders, my directives would have stopped the effort cold. No, it's not sabotage. Just rotten luck."

"Time's running out for the first window of opportunity, doctor." Murges warned him. "Please, do your best to hurry."

"I know, I know, all right?" Wily countered. "I've got Metool teams swarming over every inch of the barrel. Something destabilized the shot before it could get underway, and my guess is that it's at the base…Near EMA Ring 1, or the shot emitters."

"There's nothing we can do down here, is there?"

"Keep the world from panicking. I'm doing a fine job by myself."

An agonizing seven minutes passed before Murges spoke again to SKYLIGHT's command crew. "The first firing window just passed."

Only a nod of acknowledgement was returned. The unsaid sentiment hung heavy on them, as they waited for news of the Buster Cannon's reason for failure.

Strike One.

SKYLIGHT

Buster Cannon Core

The search for the cannon's anomaly was frustrating to watch, but the robots doing the on-site diagnostic were as cool and impassionate as always. After a cursory (But unfortunately, not brief enough) scan of EMA Rings 2 to 6, the bulk of the 20 robots descended on EMA 1 and the focal emitters.

There again, nothing seemed amiss. The emitters were aligned properly and EMA 1 was green to every resonance and visual scan that the Suzys provided. As flummoxed as the humans watching them, but certainly more controlled, the Metools and Suzys soldiered on.

In the midst of that storm of activity, RD-224 glanced up from his search every now and then to consider the others. During construction, RD-224 had given specific, targeted orders to small robot groups, increasing their efficiency. Outside of the humans in charge of the project, none knew more about the Buster Cannon's workings than he did.

That knowledge blazed furiously through his mind as the robot floated safe in his control bubble. It led RD-224 to consider the problem in broader terms.

The Cannon had malfunctioned, the records indicated, during the initial charge. An instability had somehow generated in the shot. But that was not supposed to happen. Unless…

Cold and rational, RD-224 calculated the source of the error 24 minutes after it had occurred. He ordered a Suzy to follow him and spun his capsule towards an unnoticed secondary power junction box. An initial deep scan revealed what optical along hadn't; The surface of the box had been warped by plasma discharge.

RD-224 opened the lid and he and the monitoring Suzy he'd recruited glanced at the true problem. The power cable, which routed additional energy to help stabilize the shot in its formation, had been burned clean through. The ends, a foot apart, sparked helplessly.

SKYLIGHT Command

"Mutter un Gott." Wily whispered. "It must have been burned clean through during the test three months ago." Watching the damage, the tense room was now hushed in shock.

"From a power overload?" Zustrick asked.

"No, no. The Metool there's indicating the damage was plasmic. One of the pellets must have escaped confinement during the charge build-up. And that junction box; We would have never found it. That thing's only active for a few seconds at the start of the cycle."

"Can we fix it?"

"Quickly?" Wily shook his head. "Another power cable install would take us minutes we don't have. We'd have to shut off all power to the Cannon, and recharge time…"

"Is another 5 minutes." Zustrick realized. "Which would close off our second window.

"Sir, SKYLIGHT's orbit is putting us back in range again. Four minutes to the target window for Shot 2!"

Zustrick bit his lip. "All right, doctor. What do we do?"

The whole weight of the world had crashed onto Wily's shoulders, squeezing the strength out of him with a whimper. No answer came to his tired mind. "I don't know." He said hollowly. "I don't…I don't know…"

Zustrick was on him in a flash, lifting him up by his white lab coat. "Doctor, if you don't figure out something now, we're dead! We're ALL DEAD!"

A burst of scrambled vocal binary code flashed over the radio, faster than the human ear could interpret. When Wily jerked his head around to determine the source, the translated message hovered above the holographic video feed.

First Law/Third Law Conflict. First Law Precedence. Solution identified. Do not disable the Buster Cannon for repairs. Prepare for the shot.

"Who said that?" One of the SKYLIGHT techs squinted at the message. "One of the robots?"

Wily freed himself from Zustrick's grasp and ran a trace. He almost didn't need to, for the talkative Metool moved into action soon after.

The ID number burned itself into Wily's brain, and the "Mad Scientist" realized it might be worth remembering. So he remembered RD-224.

The First Law was supreme. It drove every possible solution, guided RD-224 every step of the way.

All other solutions had been marked as unsuitable, because they would have taken too much time, decreased the chances of success. It was, RD-224 finally established with the greatest reluctance, the action most damaging to himself that was the optimal answer.

He hovered beside the damaged power junction box and disengaged the thrusters. One more command powered down the control bubble he and every other worker Metool used to get around the station. The lid opened up, and RD-224 pushed himself out.

It was only a short distance to the junction box, and physically the Metool had only enough time to spin himself around and line up with the foot-square portal. For a robot processing its last few moments, it felt like an eternity.

As his feet lined up inside of the box and began to scrape along the sides, RD-224 resolved the 4000th unsuccessful counter-argument of his own Survival—The Third Law—with that of the First Law.

When his body sunk into the cavity and the sparking trunk cable surged power through him to form a complete circuit, RD-224 realized that his curiosity and intelligence had made this possible, driven him to this fate.

And as his hardened, plasmaburst-proof helmet clanged home against the top of the open junction box to cover it, sealing him into his tomb, RD-224 had one final thought. As the lifeblood of SKYLIGHT melted him into a block of conductive slag…

RD-224 wondered if humanity was worth the sacrifice. He never finished resolving the query.

"That robot just…he just…" Another crewmember stammered.

"Killed itself. Gave up its life to save all of ours." Wily stared, unable to turn away from the sight. "And it worked." He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath to calm himself before he walked over to the weapons control station and checked the readout. "The secondary power junction box is fully active again. Somehow, that Metool knew his body could complete the circuit."

"Its, you mean." A technician spoke up.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"No, you said HIS." The technician accused him.

The news stunned Wily full-on, and it was a few moments before he shook his head with a weak smile. "My God, Tom, what have you done to me?" He whispered.

An impatient Zustrick ruined the moment. "Doctor, can we fire the Buster Cannon or not?"

"Yes." Wily breathed. "Yes! We can!" He punched in one last command, and the robotic task force fled the massive gun barrel.

Cheers erupted in the control room, and Zustrick wasted no time in his next order. "Time to firing window!"

"Three minutes!" The radar operator whooped.

Zustrick smiled. "Plenty of time. Charge up the batteries to full! We're giving Epoch everything we've got!"

When SKYLIGHT finished its orbit around Earth and was once more aligned for the proper angle, the station was brimming with power. An impassionate observer would have remarked that the metallic flower circling high above the planet seemed to flare its petals out even farther, and began to glow. The radiance that stretched around the station was the strength of a fully powered blast, stronger than the test three months before had even been.

A stream of unstoppable might lashed out from the center of SKYLIGHT and rushed for a newly appeared storm of stones, trailed by a faint blue and red cloud of gases. Traveling at speeds that easily dwarfed Epoch's own, the wave of plasma expanded out and soared for the storm. They impacted, and there was a tremendous explosion of light.

Only seconds later, with no atmosphere to be clouded by dust, the meteor storm emerged on the other side and kept going…

This time, with a massive hole that left only the tail end of its left side, negligible bits of debris, flying on. The blow had been struck, and Epoch, still menacing, had been left reeling.

The second blast, aimed twenty-seven minutes later on SKYLIGHT's next rotation, answered its forerunner with equal fury. A second gaping chunk of meteoric debris was vaporized, and a hailstorm of magnetically powered railguns and laser turrets tore into the surviving mass. What was left of the "Global Extinction Event Epoch" struggled on, continuing for Earth, while SKYLIGHT calmly orbited back around behind the planet and let the remnants fall.

Epoch had been demolished. All that was left of it now was a meteor shower…

The brightest the modern world had ever seen.

Pacific Ocean, 475 Kilometers SSW of Hawaii

5:45 A.M.

Oliver Xanthos had purposefully guided the Socrates to the area of the Pacific Ocean that scientists had predicted Epoch would make seafall at. The meteor storm came.

Death did not.

The sky was only just beginning to lose the dark blues and blacks, and the faint light blue haze of dawn hung over a calm ocean. Oliver had stood at the bow of his ship, a glass of his family's wine in his hand, and watched the scene play out in the stars above. He had been able to see Epoch come in range with his naked eye, for the meteor storm, glowing with a haze of blue and red all around it, had seemed to be a very large star coming ever closer. Then there had been a blazing, brilliant blue and white light that pierced the sky with a soaring new star.

SKYLIGHT's attack.

Two shots it had fired over the course of forty-five minutes, and Epoch had been shredded apart. It had splintered further not long after the second shot; an attack that he couldn't make out from 17,000 kilometers below. What was left rained across the sky as streaks of fiery light. They kept falling, and they didn't stop. They were beautiful.

Oliver couldn't help but smile. "So we live then?" He asked the skies. "Is that how it's going to be, Jessica? You die, and the rest of us have to live?"

The remains of Epoch kept falling all around him, across the sky, blazing across the horizon. "No." Oliver said to himself. "No, we don't have to live. We get to live."

The billionaire who had reinvented himself finished off his wine and kept watching the sky. "All right." His eyes sparkled in the morning dawn. "All right, Jessica. You win."

Somewhere above him, Oliver believed with all his heart that one of the falling stars was his wife, showing him the way.

The guiding light showing them all the way.

Cape Canaveral, Florida

Cheers erupted all around them, both at ground control and over the uplink to SKYLIGHT Command. Dr. Felman Murges, though, was too old and too wizened to let such exuberance take hold.

Five years of constant work and strain had drained the astrophysicist to his utter limits. The tension of the last hour had been the breaking point, and it had been so close.

They had been that close to…

His phone rang. Felman opened his eyes again and glanced down at it.

Dr. Wily had sent him a message. Congratulations.

Dr. Murges looked up to the viewscreen showing them SKYLIGHT Command and sighted Wily, as exhausted as he was, smiling at him and nodding.

Murges pointed at him and mouthed his response. You.

Wily's smile split wider, and the "Mad Scientist" of the Second Rainbow shook his head. He pointed back at Murges. No. It was you.

Murges thought it over, and then waved a hand all around him, pantomiming his answer without a single whisper. All of us.

To that, Dr. Wily finally nodded. Stopping Epoch had taken all of them. Every member of the Second Rainbow. Every resource, every asset, drawn towards one singular goal.

They had perfected fusion generators. They had created artificial gravity, and a cannon housed in an orbiting space station that held the power of the sun in its heart. They had weathered terrorists, extremists, and dissenters. They had weathered failure and grief, and too many close calls for comfort.

Murges flipped his phone up and sent a reply to Wily.

We did well.

Wily's reply made Murges laugh in tearful happiness.

We did good.

CNN Broadcast, SRHQ

May 21st, 8 A.M.

"This is Marcel d'Whyste, your on-site reporter here at Second Rainbow Headquarters in Ewan Lake, Alaska. Many of you around the world either went home this evening, or stayed up late this morning to wait and watch. Those who had clear skies were able to see it all, with more clarity than I can provide.

I have covered the Second Rainbow since it was founded in 2047, and in those long 13 years, this is by far the moment that I will most remember. Epoch, that tremendous mass of metal and rock that had been aimed at Earth, is destroyed. The space station called SKYLIGHT, five years in the making, worked exactly as promised.

Two massive plasma blasts were fired from our world's orbiting defender. In the end, it was not five space probes, not the massed weapons of a world struggling to pull itself from war…

But two plasma blasts, tinted blue and white, sources tell me. We were promised a weapon that could never be used against us. A weapon that would vigilantly watch the skies, so that we would never again need fear extinction from space. SKYLIGHT has delivered.

This morning, the sun is rising over Second Rainbow Headquarters, bringing a tomorrow some never believed would come. The world is still alive. WE are still alive. And whatever God you out there listening might pray to, give thanks to him…or her…for we are alive.

This morning is a bustle of celebration, of jubilant praise to Providence and the strength of humanity's will to endure. The Second Rainbow, a coalition of the brightest minds in the world, had never before massed their collective intelligence on one singular goal. If this is what we, as a species, can accomplish when we put our faith, our resources, and our time to construct something that will live beyond us…

It leaves nothing but good tidings for what may lie ahead.

God Bless this world, and God Bless our protectors."

Second Rainbow Headquarters

Director Van Hostick's Office

May 26th, 2060 C.E.

1:47 P.M.

"Darwin! It's good to see you again!" Paul Van Hostick rose from his chair, all smiles as his predecessor and closest confidante walked into his office.

The wizened soldier turned pseudo-politician nodded briefly, then sank into the padded visitor's seat. Heavy bags hung under his eyes. "Good to be back, Paul."

Director Van Hostick made his way over to the counter where he kept a carafe of chilled water. "How's the jet lag treating you?"

"Not very well. Flying in from Japan isn't hard, but going all the way to New Amsterdam?"

"Yes, I caught your "State of the Rainbow" address." Hostick poured out a glass of water and walked it over to Vinkus. The man accepted it and drank it all in one go. "I'm surprised that the General Assembly hasn't forced you to tender your resignation yet. You're becoming more acerbic all the time, even when you're heaping praise."

"Those worthy of praise receive it." Vinkus explained. "But humility is always a more precious commodity. Untempered praise does more harm than good." He set the empty glass aside, more awake after the liquid. "As for my speech…Those nuts from Gehenna's End were going to off themselves whether I suggested it or not. Besides, if I was fired from my post as U.N. Representative for the Rainbow, do you think anybody else would want to take over my job?"

"Me, perhaps?" Paul suggested lightly. The offer made Darwin laugh.

"Tired of this place already?"

"Oh, it does tend to drag on a person after a time, but I've found ways to keep myself from losing what little sanity we have left around here." Paul put on a whimsical smile. "It does help that I'm constantly reminded of why we all came here. These people have come to be family."

Vinkus shrugged. "In many ways, the Second Rainbow certainly is one. But, I think, a family without direction now."

"Oh? How so?" Paul sat back down and set an arm across his desk.

"The last five years, we have been united under the banner to do everything we could to stop Epoch. Well, we stopped it. We're alive, and tomorrow is ours. So what is there left for us to do?"

"You know as well as I do that this world is still rebuilding. There are areas of polluted land, abandoned cities struggling to pull themselves back up. Our help in bringing life back to those places is invaluable."

"Yes, yes." Darwin waved him off. "The usual problems. We averted the beginnings of a new war in 2047. We resuscitated the ozone layer. Now, we have stopped spaceborne calamity. But the world has a short memory, Paul. When there is nothing left for us, what will the Rainbow do then?"

Director Van Hostick blinked. "I hadn't given it much thought."

"You may care to soon." Representative Vinkus stood back up and bowed ever so slightly. "Eventually, this world will have no need of miracle workers who exercise emergency powers. It will have no need of humans, really. We're becoming obsolete."

Paul laughed. "No need of humans? Don't be ridiculous. Do you mean to say that robots will replace us? That's impossible."

"Is it?" Darwin raised an eyebrow. "You surely saw the reports from Dr. Murges, the same as I. SKYLIGHT almost failed because of a broken power conduit. It was not humanity that made that incredibly expensive piece of technology work. It was one of Wily's worker robots, at the last precious minutes, that restored power to the Cannon."

"You worry too much, Darwin." Paul berated the man. "You're probably just very tired right now. Go get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow morning. We can talk more then."

Darwin's head shook steadily as he wandered to the door. "Robotic trees. Robotic workers. And always more on the way."

Director Van Hostick rolled his eyes when the door had slid shut behind the departing Vinkus.

"Robots support us, Darwin. They don't replace us."

Dr. Light's House

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve, Tokyo, Japan

June 2nd, 2060 C.E.

9:21 A.M.

Eddie had been riding the house vacuum cleaner around in the living room when he heard the jingle of keys at the front door. The Fliptop shut off the cleaning device with a press of his left foot and hopped off to waddle towards the door.

It didn't surprise him when Dr. Albert William Wily, his second co-Creator, opened the door up and stepped inside. The scientist, alert and looking very healthy, glanced down at the robot's movement.

"Ah, Eddie. Cleaning the house up?"

Eddie bobbed his cylindrical head and torso up and down once.

Wily closed the door behind him and glanced around. "Is Tom up yet?" Eddie shook his head. "I see. Still sleeping, is he?" Another nod. "Well, have you tried my usual wake-up routine?"

Eddie popped his lid up and flashed a message across his screen. Dr. Light disabled all my alarm programs three months ago.

Wily harrumphed and rolled his eyes. "Marvelous. Very well then. I'm going to go start on breakfast. You can come along and help if you like, but keep that head of yours shut, will you?"

Eddie closed his head back up and followed Wily into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, the smell of sizzling bacon and black, black coffee roused Dr. Light from the tomb that was his bedroom. Scratching his backside and yawning, he meandered out. He glanced over to the stove, where his old friend was cheerfully cooking up a pan of bacon.

Wily looked over his shoulder and smiled, and the wrinkles on his forehead stood out even more starkly. "Fat and caffeine. Never fails to wake you up, Tom."

"You're home early." Light rubbed at his eyes. "When did you…"

"Oh, not long ago. I hopped an early shuttle ride back from SKYLIGHT, once we finished the last bits of maintenance. Commander Zustrick and the rest of the regular crew can handle things from here on out." Wily turned the stove off and shoveled the bacon onto two plates, already loaded with toast and eggs. "Feels like it's been forever since I've been here at home."

"It has been a while, yes." Light answered. He walked over to the counter and poured out two cups of coffee. "But I'm glad you're back. We missed you around here."

Wily didn't protest when his friend sat the coffee down in front of him and squeezed his shoulder. "So, how've you managed without me?"

Light sat down opposite his friend and speared a fried egg. He set it on a piece of toast to make an open face sandwich. "Oh, well enough, I suppose. Watching over LightTech's kept me busy."

"You mean bothering Titus kept you busy." Wily surmised.

"Ha! Am I that transparent?"

"You've never been much of a liar, Tom. Your honesty's always been refreshing to me."

"Ugh." Light took a bite of his open faced egg sandwich and grimaced. "It'sh too early in thuh day for philosch-ofizing."

"Early?" Wily guffawed. "Tom, you overslept again and Eddie just told me you disabled all his alarm clocks? It's the middle of the bleeding morning and you're wasting daylight!"

Dr. Light swallowed. "You seem awfully cheerful, Al…Did you get laid while you were up in SKYLIGHT?"

"There weren't exactly many opportunities." Wily rolled his eyes. "No, Tom. But consider that we're alive when we should be dead. The Buster Cannon worked as planned, and the Second Rainbow has triumphed. Every day here on out is a blessing, a gift! I'm not about to waste it."

Begrudgingly, Light found himself smiling at the brave statements. "Hm. Well, all right. I can agree with that." He drank some of his coffee, and slowly his mind began to wake up. He remembered a question that had been lingering on his mind for some time, and found the courage to ask it. "Al?"

"Yeah, Tom?"

"I heard that the Cannon was malfunctioning to begin with. Is it true that one of the Metools salvaged it?"

Wily swallowed a bit of bacon and looked up. "You heard about that, eh? Yes, it's true. The Metool climbed out of its control bubble and sank itself into the junction box while the power was still on. Melted itself into a pile of slag, and the helmet kept its shape. Now there's a Metool helmet protecting that junction box. In a sense, it became one with SKYLIGHT."

Light nodded and looked back down at his plate.

"What else did you want to say, Tom?"

"How did you know I wanted to say something else?" Tom asked.

Albert Wily leaned back in his chair, and his hard eyes looked over his wild mustache to scan the round genius. "Because I know you. You wanted to ask me which Metool it was, didn't you?"

After a moment's consideration, Light nodded.

"The designation for it was RD-224." Wily said. There was no hiding the sharp inhalation of breath from Light at the mention of the number. "That was the one I called you about six months ago, wasn't it?"

Light shut his eyes. "Yes. RD-224 was the Metool you were concerned about. I sent you my E-Mail about it, didn't I?"

"You did." Wily nodded. "It was a bit short, though."

"I said he was like Eddie." Light glanced away from Wily to hide the shame in his eyes, and smiled when the Fliptop waddled into the room. "And there's nothing wrong with Eddie, is there?"

"Anymore, I'm not quite sure myself." Wily pursed his lips. "That Fliptop of ours is full of little quirks."

"None of them harmful." Light promised, chuckling.

"Still, if nothing was wrong with RD-224, why are you so upset about it?"

"Because even though there was nothing wrong with him, he was different." Light explained, meaning every word. "Besides that Metool, only Eddie's ever shown that same sense of curiosity. Now, we'll never know just how much he could have advanced."

"Tom…" Dr. Wily put a concerned look on his face. "They're robots. They just run programs. That's all they do."

Light breathed silently for a few moments, then nodded and turned back to his breakfast. Wily seemed glad to let the subject drop and return to more pleasant, less important aspects of their lives.

Light counted his lucky stars that Al hadn't asked him whether he'd ever discovered what caused RD-224 to have such a curious streak.

Given how his friend could read him like an open book, and given how Al had seemed to develop an over-reaching worry about mankind's growing dependency on robots…

The truth, and the failed lie, would have both been too painful to say.

U.S. Robotics Headquarters

New Denver, Colorado

June 14th, 2060 C.E.

3:20 P.M.

They made for an ill-matched pair, Trenton Corbun and Steve Wilcox. The head of United States Robotics checked his suit one last time in the mirror, not once ever ceasing to smile. "Cheer up, Dr. Corbun. This is a fantastic day for you."

"Really?" Trenton countered, dressed far more glumly in one of his company's laboratory smocks, left open to show a button-down shirt and tie underneath. "You don't need me to make this announcement. You don't even need to bring Sennet into this. Just take the credit and do it yourself."

"Well, that wouldn't be very honest now, would it?" Steve exclaimed. "This was a collaborative project. When news of this historic cooperative endeavor is made, Sennet's market share is sure to rise. And you want Sennet to do well, don't you?"

Trenton gave the man a grim stare in reply.

"Well." Steve exhaled. "You just follow along behind me and wait until I announce you. Somehow, I'm getting the impression that you'd prefer it if I did all the talking."

"This is the last time you and I will ever work again." Trenton vowed, following after him as they left the changing room and approached the press conference.

"Well, that's perfectly fine, Trenton." Steve replied offhandedly. "I got what I wanted the first time."

He left the dumbstruck Trenton behind and wandered out into the press conference, all smiles and friendly handwaves. "Welcome, welcome! I'm glad all of you could make it out here today. Now if you'll all take your seats, we can get this started. Please, save your questions until I finish up."

As flashes went off from still image digital cameras, a U.S. Robotics employee came out and handed Wilcox a wireless microphone. The CEO clipped it to his lapel and continued out to the middle of the stage. "Now, I've heard all the rumors about why you're here today, the same as you have. And yes, you're here to get the first look at U.S. Robotics' brand new, top of the line robot. As you're all aware, our planet has passed another key moment of difficulty. Thanks to the contributions of the Second Rainbow, a space station now orbits high above Earth, keeping us safe from spaceborne threats with the most powerful weapon ever devised: The plasma-based Buster Cannon. Now, details of how exactly that device works are sketchy and incomplete, due in no small part to the paranoia of certain members of that weapon's development team. But today, ladies and gentlemen of the press, I am happy to announce that we at U.S. Robotics have cracked the secrets of plasma weapons technology! The same power used to keep the planet safe can now be used to keep mankind safe here, in much smaller settings."

Steve Wilcox gestured to a curtain behind him, and the screen parted to reveal a very human-seeming mechanoid, gunmetal gray and black with a large adjustable tread underneath its torso. Its appearance reminiscent of a robotic shock trooper from some hackneyed science fiction television show of the previous century, the most pronounced feature it held was also the one that caused the most consternation in the crowd.

Its right arm was nothing but a long, ring-banded barrel from the elbow down.

Wilcox held a hand up until the shouting and confusion died down, then continued. "Something that was made abundantly clear during the terrorist attacks on Second Rainbow facilities during the last few years is that 'traditional' ideas of security no longer cut it. We call this specimen PR-1; Police Robot Model 1. As you can see, PR-1 is nothing like the feared GAIDN mechanoids of old. That isn't its purpose. PR-1 was designed to operate in combination with existing law enforcement units. Unlike a human, PR-1 cannot be threatened. Its armor plating makes it resilient enough to withstand small arms fire, and even medium grade explosives without complaint."

Wilcox's eyes flickered up momentarily to take stock of the room, and he continued speaking as the PR-1 powered up and began moving. Two glowing purple eyes shone out from the confines of the helmet-head it had been given, and the robot also watched the room.

"PR-1 can adapt to every situation. It has a sensor package allowing itself to see images in infrared, regular, and even ultraviolet spectrums. Your first impression upon looking at this robot is that it has one purpose; To kill. Yes, it is armed with a plasma cannon, and yes, it is a permanent fixture. But a weapon need not always kill, and plasma weaponry has far more uses than other tools. A bullet can only kill. But a laser beam can be used for surgery, for welding, for countless other beneficial uses. So, too, can plasma be more than a weapon of destruction. In a search and rescue role, PR-1 could fire tactically placed shots from its 'arm cannon' to vaporize sections of rubble trapping citizens. Its durability, sensors, and weapon make it perfect for the first line of scouts after an earthquake or a terrible explosion. In a setting with a wild-eyed, possibly drugged gunman threatening innocents, PR-1 can advance without the dangers of risking further injury or captives, as a human police officer might. Using its arm cannon, this robot would be fully capable of disintegrating a section of a wall for quick approach and capture of a suspect." Wilcox hesitated for a moment before he added, almost in sotto voce, "And if need be, PR-1 can incapacitate or neutralize aggressors as well."

The U.S. Robotics prototype came to rest again and powered down. Wilcox clasped his hands together and smiled out over the crowd. "All right, I'll take some questions now!"

One reporter was quick on the point. "Mr. Wilcox, your company has a past history of exclusive military contracts in your products. Will the PR-1 be slated for use as a war machine?"

"Yes, a derivative version we've labeled the MR-1 will be available for purchase in a few days. The military version will have an extended battery life and will feature bipedal legs in place of tank treads, as well as an enhanced Combat Reaction package."

A second reporter from the European Union spoke up next. "Steve, the braintrust behind Project SKYLIGHT's "Buster Cannon" included the noted inventors Dr. Wily and Dr. Light, formerly of the United States. How was U.S. Robotics able to duplicate their work and miniaturize it so quickly?"

Steve laughed at the question. "Well, the prospect of plasma weapons technology was first given credence back in 2052, back when Dr. Light and Wily first demonstrated their versatile and now omnipresent "Metool" at a conference, and its miniaturized plasma welding torch. I could tell you that we simply expanded on the principles over the last decade, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. We did have some help in collaboration with another famous robotics firm…Sennet Robotics. The PR-1 is, in many ways, the product of a cooperative effort made between my company's own engineers and that of the inventor and entrepreneur, Trenton Corbun. As a matter of fact, he's here with me today. Trenton, come on out!"

Reluctantly, and to scattered applause, Trenton Corbun walked out from where he had been seething out of sight

"Mr. Corbun, does this mean that Sennet and U.S. Robotics have joined up to become a joint venture?"

"Will your two companies be merging?"

As Trenton moved to stand beside Steve Wilcox, he reacted quickly to the questions. "No. Sennet Robotics remains a proud and independent entity. There are still three major robotics firms. This project was a one time collaboration."

"I firmly believe this will stand as one of the truly historic moments in robotic development." Wilcox added proudly. "Years from now, people will look back on the MR-1 with the same sense of nostalgia as they do the Metool."

Trenton saw Steve Wilcox kill his microphone, and spoke softly to the man. "Metools never killed anyone, though."

"Give them time, Trenton." The CEO replied, continuing to smile and wave to the reporters. "Every machine can kill."

Mauna Kea Observatory, Hawaii

June 15th, 2060 C.E.

6:45 P.M.

Briefcase in hand, Dr. Felman Murges made his way into the lobby of the observatory he called home. Once the fanfare of humanity's continued existence had died down and all the congratulatory accolades had been awarded, the astrophysicist had returned to the duties he had held before Epoch entered their lives. For Felman, it was a welcome reprieve. Let Light and Hyrmue and Vinkus bask in the glow of the Rainbow's public attentions. His place was here, where the dark of night allowed him to see everything clearer than the rest of the world could.

A warm smile came to his tired and wrinkled face when he saw who the security guard was. "Kelly!"

The young man, now years older, stood up and beamed in return. "Doctor Murges! Welcome back, sir!"

Kelly made his way around the desk, and the two exchanged a warm hug.

"My God, I've missed this place." Felman laughed. He pulled back and held Kelly by the shoulders. "And look at you! You've grown a beard! What does the wife say about it?"

"Well, it itches a bit, but it gives her something to scratch when I wake her up in the morning." Kelly joked.

"Aah, young love." Felman picked up his briefcase again. "And tell me, how's your daughter doing? One year old? Stacy, isn't that her name?"

"Close, sir. Stephanie, and she's two."

"Aah, Stephanie, that was it. And?"

"Well, she's battling the croop right now, but she's a fighter. She'll pull through it and be screaming through the night soon enough, I'm sure of it."

"Well, you be sure to take care of them." Felman told the young father. "It's a man's responsibility to not only provide for his family, but to be a positive, reassuring presence in their lives."

Kelly smiled gently and nodded his head. "I'm happy to. It's my turn, after all. Doctor, you kept the world alive when all of us had given up hope."

"Now, now." Dr. Murges cautioned him with a wagging finger. "Project SKYLIGHT took a lot of people. Many hands make light work."

"It was still your idea." Kelly pointed out, respect shining in his features. "You proved something to me these last five years, doctor. One man really can change the world."

"If one believes, Kelly, they can do anything." Dr. Murges concluded. He patted the young man on the shoulder and headed farther into the observatory, for his office, and then for the mighty telescope that always filled his nights with joy.

Just another member of the Second Rainbow who had answered the call of duty, Dr. Felman Murges returned to his quiet and simple life, and was happy.

All was as it should be once more.

Dr. Light's House

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve, Tokyo, Japan

June 21st, 2060 C.E.

4:22 P.M.

Trenton had tried calling. The phone had rang unanswered at first, and then been blocked. Letters had been mailed back, or in the case of E-Mails, suffered "Inaccessible address" returns. Every attempt to route a message through the other members of the Second Rainbow Trenton knew and had worked with over the years had similarly been ignored, or treated with cold indifference.

Trenton Corbun knew why it was happening. He only wanted the chance to talk to them, to explain why he'd done it…

To apologize and make amends.

It was for that reason he'd found himself on a plane for Japan and then on a railcar that took him to the small station adjoining Shugoya. From there, it was a brisk, but picturesque walk through the Treeborg forest on Tokyo's outskirts before he reached a house he had spent so much time in…ages ago, it seemed. The house, sorely out of place in the Asian nation, stood proudly as a ranch-styled dwelling with a somewhat taller and reinforced addition that served as the laboratory.

Trenton walked up to the porch surrounding the door and front face of the house, noting how every step up creaked under his weight. Apparently, it had been a while since Light had looked into making home repairs. He took another deep breath to steel his nerves, then rang the doorbell and waited.

No noise came from inside at first, but then a quiet shuffling sound grew louder when it approached the door.

Trenton took a step back and waited for the door to swing open. To his surprise, only the smaller pet door carved into the bottom portion of the front door opened itself up.

A small, broad-eyed red robot, little more than a squat canister on legs pushed through the pet door, righted himself, and glanced up with an empty stare.

"Eddie?" Trenton asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where's Thomas and Albert?"

In response, Eddie popped his lid open and fired a large projectile at the visiting inventor with a solid thhhunnk of compressed air. Trenton recoiled, faintly seeing stars as whatever it was slammed off of his lower jaw with blinding pain.

"Augh! Son of a…Eddie, what are you doing?" Trenton stumbled backwards and shook his head as he clutched at his sore jaw. He looked down and blinked when he saw that he'd been struck full in the face with an orange, which now rolled along the deck innocently. "You're chucking fruit at me?"

In response, Eddie fired another round with an even louder shhhhhooooomp and caught him in the gut. The blow made Trenton double over in pain as the air was forced out of his lungs, just in time to receive another citrus round to his forehead.

Through the sea of pain he'd been forced into, Trenton was vaguely aware he'd been forced backwards to the stairs; More lumps and bruises resulted as he fell down the Treeborg wood planks before collapsing into a groaning heap on the grass below.

Curled up in pain, Trenton looked up and saw Eddie standing at the top of the stairs, head still opened and ready to fire yet again. "Please, stop! Enough!" Corbun wheezed.

Eddie slowly rotated his head and body left and right, and prepared to fire another round. Only divine intercession, or the closest human equivalent, saved Trenton from even more orange-flavored bruises.

"That's enough, Eddie." Came Wily's tired and gravelly voice. Only then did Eddie close his lid again, turn around, and waddle back towards the house.

Grunting in pain, Trenton pulled himself back up to his feet and looked up. Wily had taken Eddie's place at the top of the porch steps, arms crossed over his chest. The "Mad Scientist" had reverted to his familiar getup of blue jeans, a white lab coat, and a button down shirt with a red tie.

"And what possessed you to come back here?" Wily asked coolly.

"Goddamnit, Wily!" Trenton rumbled. "Your robot's gone berserk! It's attacking people!"

"No, just you." Wily answered. He didn't budge from his spot. "We gave Eddie orders to shoot on sight if you showed up. Just be thankful that Eddie downgraded his ammunition to oranges on account of the First Law. I wanted him to fire potatoes."

"Unh." Trenton winced and held a hand to his stomach. "You're mad at me. I get that."

"Masterfully written understatement." Wily snapped.

"I need to see Tom. I have to tell him that…"

"That you're sorry? He doesn't want to hear it." Wily cut in brusquely. "I don't want to hear it, either. We had taken every precaution to make sure that plasma weapons technology would begin and end at SKYLIGHT. There were only a handful of us on the project, all of us sworn to secrecy. You took that oath, Trenton, same as we all did. There's a reason Tom and I live here in Japan, left the United States behind! Eight years ago, they tried to hold us hostage, rip the secrets out of us! Only extraordinary intervention from people better than you kept the secret safe back then. You know why we did that. The world can't be trusted with another new weapon! EVER!" Wily threw his arms up in the air and screamed the word. "And then we found out that you went behind our backs? While Tom and I and all the others were busy fighting to build SKYLIGHT and keep the world safe, what did you do? You ran to Steve fucking Wilcox and GAVE him everything you knew! Now plasma weaponry is in the hands of a Machiavellian idiot who profits off of death and suffering through robots that were supposed to help humanity!"

"You don't think I'm upset about that?" Trenton yelled back. "He promised me that it wouldn't see military use! He promised me!"

"And you believed him?" Wily spat on the deck angrily. "I knew Wilcox back when he worked at the Institute. Hell, I fired the bastard. There isn't an honest bone in his wretched body, Corbun. He was never going to rest until he got what we had, and you gave him exactly what he wanted. We never took out a patent on plasma weapons technology, remember? If we'd done that, then everybody, Wilcox included, would be able to duplicate it."

"Not right away." Corbun growled. "It would take them years to pull it off on their own without patent infringement. He was going to get it one way or another. You don't think that some of the SKYLIGHT astronauts would eventually figure out how that Buster Cannon worked, pass the information back to him?"

"That might have been the case, but at least then it wouldn't have been on our heads." Wily stabbed a finger in the air towards Trenton. "But now we don't even have the benefit of waiting for it to happen, because it already has. Plasma weaponry is in the world now, Trenton, and it's because of you. I hope you're happy with having that distinction, because you're going to have to live with it for the rest of your life."

"Who came up with the idea, huh?" Trenton demanded, pointing back at him. "Who first decided that plasma could be used as a feasible weapon? YOU! Don't you dare point the finger at me for unleashing plasma weaponry when it was you and Light that offered it up in the first place!"

Seething, Wily pulled his arm back and held it at his side, hand balled up into a fist. "Enough. I've vented all the rage I have left for you. Get out of here, and never come back. Here on out, LightTech and Sennet go their separate ways. You can build all the warbots you like with U.S. Robotics."

"I came here to apologize." Trenton reminded him firmly.

"And I told you that I didn't want to hear…"

"No, but you need to!" Corbun cut in bitterly. "My company was dying, Albert! The Big Mouths contract was washed up, the Bullets we sent to stop Epoch had ended up making it worse! Nobody was buying, and nobody was willing to give us a loan! Wilcox promised me he could get the Big Mouths contract with the U.S. government restored, and he did. Fact is, he'd had it under his control the entire damn time. He used me, Albert. I know he did, and I'm ashamed of it, but it happened."

Wily's glare softened, and rage was replaced with regret. "And you didn't come to us?" He asked. "Tom and I, we could have helped you. Hell, we know people. Xanthos, or Hyrmue, or anybody else we've worked with. We could have kept Sennet going. So why didn't you ask us for help?"

Ashamedly, Trenton looked away. "I couldn't ask for help. Not from you."

"Pride, then?" Wily clarified, and scorn returned to his tone. "The world burned because of pride. Wars have started because of pride. I am sick and tired of pride. All it ever seems to do is get people killed."

Wily turned around. "Go home, Corbun. I never want to see you again."

Stunned, Corbun watched as Wily walked back inside the house and closed the door behind him. Only when he heard the deadbolt lock did the inventor's brain spark him into action again. He rushed at the door and pounded on it. "Damnit, Wily! What about your pride? Where will your sense of superiority take you in the years to come, huh? You're my friends, Goddamnit! How many of those do you think I have?"

No answer came, and Corbun only grew angrier. His eyes misted up, and he pounded on the door again. "Did you think I was going to let Sennet Robotics curl up and die? Did you? It's MY company! My last chance at making a difference! I could never let it go!"

Still, Wily did not speak to him. A shuffling at the pet door prompted Corbun to glance down, and Eddie poked his head out. The Fliptop blinked once, popped his lid open, and stared up expectantly at the man, as if daring him to keep going.

Crying bitter tears, Trenton waved the robot off. "I'm going, Eddie. I'm going. You don't have to shoot at me again."

The screen on the underside of Eddie's head flickered. You have ten seconds to vacate the premises.

Trenton Corbun wiped his tears, turned around, and walked off of the porch and back the way he'd come. He would never visit the house of Light again.

Inside, Wily took a moment to compose himself. He'd known Corbun would try and do something rash like this, but he hadn't expected that shouted diatribe at the end.

He hadn't expected Trenton to yell something that would make him doubt himself.

Eddie marched back inside and looked up at Wily expectantly.

"He's gone, then?" Wily asked the robot. Eddie bobbed his head up and down. "Good. Eddie, can I ask you something?"

The robot lowered its entire body down to the floor and raised it up again to shrug.

"Do you think I have too much pride?" Wily asked. "Like, I'm too proud of my accomplishments? That it's going to get me into trouble?"

Again, Eddie shrugged. Wily snorted and shoved the questions deep into the back of his mind. "What am I doing, asking a robot for psychological help?" He marched for the laboratory, and let the questions die away.

Wily's pride, unfortunately, was all too powerful for him to even recognize. His problems and worries went unspoken to those who would have been able to help him deal with them.

Inside the laboratory, Dr. Light was staring into a microscope, working on soldering a circuit board under high magnification. Accustomed to the faint smell of ozone and burned metal, Wily walked up next to his friend and set a hand on the counter. "Busy again, Tom?"

"Just…about…done." Light answered. A faint sizzle filled the air around them, and Light pulled away from the apparatus. The bearded scientist smiled at Wily with a knowing expression. "That was Corbun, wasn't it?"

"Hmph." Wily pointedly glanced away. "We won't have to worry about him coming around here again."

"Good." Light said, no venom in his voice. The response surprised Wily.

"I would have thought you'd be angrier than that, Tom. He betrayed plasma technology to the one robotics company who will see it used to cause even more destruction."

"That may be, yes." Light admitted. "But lingering over it will do us no good. If we want to make a difference, Albert, we must create a world where war machines are no longer needed. When that day comes, it won't matter how many PR or MR-1s U.S. Robotics puts out. They'll be obsolete."

The tension of the encounter drained completely away, and Wily let himself be encouraged by Dr. Light's determined words. "I suppose so. That's always been the difference between us, Tom. You do what should be done, and I do what needs to be done."

"In this case, my old friend, I think our two divergent paths are parallel." Light winked.

Wily folded his arms. "So what are you working on, anyhow?"

"A working hypothesis." Light explained. He got up and wandered across the laboratory. "I think I have an idea on how we could improve the base AI from a Core Module robot."

Wily lifted an eyebrow. "You do? Just came to you?"

"Well…I did have some help by studying Eddie." Light offered in way of dismissal. "Something I've noticed is that every Core Module robot we put out builds up an enhanced neural network. They lay down peripheral pathways through their positronic brains as they age. Sort of the same thing we do in growing neurons in our own brains, Albert. It speeds up processing and memory storage. And if I'm right, I think we could replicate that process in a robotic brain; give them an enhanced ability to learn, develop, and evolve."

Wily stared at him. "You're kidding."

Smiling, Light shook his head. Wily laughed. "Ha! Oh, you're kidding me!"

Light remained steadfast, and Wily sobered up quickly. "You're not kidding, are you? You're serious about this?"

"It won't be easy, and it's probably going to take us a lot of years yet to pull off, but yes. I am serious, and I'm sure that we can develop a smarter robot…An Advanced robot, you might say."

Wily pulled a workstool out and sat down. The "Mad Scientist" twirled the end of his mustache thoughtfully. "And will it make the world a better place? Or will it just be another technological advancement to be used and never fully understood?"

"What was robotics ten years ago?" Light asked his partner. "Robots kept this world alive, Al. Treeborgs, Metools, SKYLIGHT…All of them beneficial. People still have trouble understanding robots, but that'll never change. If we do this, we can give rise to a new generation of mechanoids. Robots able to better serve humanity. Robots that don't need weapons to make the world a better place."

Still, Wily hesitated. Light added one more statement, knowing it was the one which would bring his friend in line.

"And besides, Albert…After SKYLIGHT, I could use a challenge that doesn't involve making a better gun."

Wily threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, fine, you sold me. We'll do it. You want to get the rest of the engineers at LightTech in on this, or do you want this to be just another you and me thing?"

"Let the boys at our company worry about doing business as usual." Light chuckled. "We're old men, and we deserve our fun."

"This is fun?" Wily jokingly asked.

Light reached down and picked up a screwdriver. He twirled it in his fingers and smiled, lost in some distant place. "It's different."

Eddie walked into the room, and Dr. Light turned his view to the small, unassuming red robot…The only one of his kind left, after RD-224's sacrifice. The world had survived catastrophe, and looked for a compass to guide it into the future.

In Eddie's blank stare, and his snowflake-like mind, Dr. Light saw a road worth traveling by.

"And different could be good." He whispered.