\chapter{}
Joe Valone left work late that day.  Drivers where mapping out a new crop of winter potholes on the NY streets.  The Sun repair shop was busy, but Joe wouldn't rush.  He resisted the the presure to keep pace with the tide of walk-in repairs.  Joe's boss had begun to differ work to other repair shops and had asked him to stay late out of frustration with missed business.  Joe reluctantly agreed, noting that he felt he must stop after his current car.

Auto undercarriage work can be dirty and unpleasant, but it had potential be exceptionally dangerous for Joe.  An array of high power springs, shaved metal edges, high pressure seals, prybars, and a 2 ton car held over your head with what amounts to compressed air could slow any mechanic who thought about it.  Most of Joe cohorts were reasonably careful, but he was especially so.  One mistake could kill him,  if he got so much as a one inch gash or bruise.

Being alone in the garage was not a good idea, but Joe had plenty of good ideas to compensate.  He had made a padded sleeve he used reach into hot engine compartments.  He built a telescoping rod with a tiny infrared, visual, and ultrasonic cameras at the end out of old palmtop parts.  He even had a full robotic arm to the shoulder adapted from an early flawed robotic prosthetic his aunt rescued from a trash heap.  Often his coworkers wanted to borrow the now stronger and metal plated arm when pulling pressed control arm or gearbox components.   

Not that his gear protected him every time.  About a two years ago Joe had folded back a thumbnail while working on The Combatant, a robot he and some friends where working on for a contest.  It was subtle, just enough pain to alert him to the damage.  He told his teammate Lucy about the injury and they decided to drive to the hospital just in case.  It's a good thing, because his thumb had grown to the size of a golf ball by the time they got there.   The doctors there immediately began transfusion and drug therapy and eventually drained most of a pint of blood from his swollen thumb.

Joe's Aunt Teressa was there that day.  She didn't stay with him long, she told him, because she was due in surgery.  She made some adjustments on his chart, and told him to call her "in the marow".  He called her at home the next day.

"Hello, Aunt Teressa."

His aunt replied,  "Hello Joe, how nice of you to drop by.", sounding a little sarcastic.

"Thank you for being there for me."  Joe said almost grumbling in his deepest voice.

"How is you thumb?"

"Better.", Joe lied a little.

"Joe you are headed for trouble. Why? You are smart Joe, there are plenty of hobbies that don't endanger your health.", any hint of sarcasm was gone.  Dr Graceland continued, "If you want to design machines, fine.  But why continue build them yourself.  Your friends know how to work a wrench. No?"

"Yes."  Joe whispered.

Joe knew a few things about himself.  He liked being athletic, liked building things, and when he has a good idea, he has lots of trouble expressing it.  This didn't bother him, except at times like this.  Speaking a bit to fast Joe said, "They can't do things like I can.  I can't explain how things fit together.  They just do."

"I am not your mother, but if you continue to do this type of work yourself then I see no choice.", she uttered in a condescending almost prissy tone.

Here comes an ultimatum, Joe thought.

"We had a difficulty obtaining the right blood for you yesterday, we gave you half plasma.  If you came in for your coagulent shots every week, I't wouldn't have been so bad.  You need to be here the Tuesday after next to donate blood to yourself, and every week for your shot.  I'll be here after six."

Joe breathed again.  He was off the hook for now.

His father and aunt bombarded him with extraneous reminders of his illness.  His case was pretty severe.  Simple things that people who's blood clotted normally took for granted.  Acme could be an all day afair.  Nosebleeds were frequent and endless.  Hemophilia could easily kill Joe, but he focused his attention on matters more important to men of 22, as often as his health could stand.  As far as Joe was concerned, that was all anybody could ask of him.  

Joe thought about the money overtime would bring him as he ran a small winch he mounted to the transmission crossmember.  It's steel cable was taught as the hook on the end slowly pulled the muffler toward the passengers side of the charcol gray car.  Joe operated the winch from a wired remote, at a distance of three feet, just enough to see what was happening in the dim worklight.

While pressing the winch remote, Joe saw the tailpipe shift.  He reacted as fast as any human could, thumbing the toggle switch on the remote control.  A rusty bolt had snapped.  The muffler swung to the side and down under stress from the winch line.  A steel pipe holding the muffler to the car was under just enough strain to tip with and in the direction of the muffler.   The top of the treaded tube shot toward Joe.  He leaned back lifting his left foot and pivoting on his right.  It was to late.  Joe's quick action had thrown his body and leg clear of diving pipe, but it caught the wire for the winch remote.  The sound of smashing remote was barely audible over the loud clang of the steel pipe.

"Wow, that was close.", Joe reverberated to the silent garage.

Breathing heavily, Joe walked to the nearest wall switch and lightly flicked it on.  He tossed his shop jacket on the floor. He pulled his shirt off and examined his bare upper body.  Joe physique was lean and muscular.  After spending several minuets examining his arms, he determined he was not bruised or scratched.  He did discover he was covered with goosebumps.  

People at work new of his condition, but had no idea how severe it was.  Two years had passed working at this garage and he managed to avoid a single incident.  He needed no special attention and built his gizmos after hours.  While his behavior was a curiosity, vague knowledge of an illness was enough that he could do things his way.  

Nervous that to much would be revealed, Joe walked to a desk in the corner and scribbled a hasty note for his boss that he had a family emergency.  He was done for night, his nerves were shot.

Joe was careful about what he said, he liked his job and a good job was hard to find.  Times were tough, but not all bad.  Joe barely remembered the roaring 90s, he was too young to appreciate the spoils of the time.  He did remember his mom and dad being to busy for him with all the work they were doing.  His father likened the following hard times to the depression Joe's great grand father lived through, sarcastically calling it the endless recession.  

He lifted the phone receiver and dialed a thirteen digit number. held the receiver to his ear.  The sound of ring tone echoed in the vacant shop.  

"Hello", the phone answered in an light Indian accent.

"Hi Mark, how's it going."

"Hey what's up.  Are you hanging out tonight?",  Mark replied.

"No... Well maybe what are you doing?" Joe sputtered.

"Don't know yet, I'll call you when I do." 

"OK, I made a mess here it gunna be a half hour before I can leave.", Joe was still a bit dazed by his near miss.

"So I'll see you in thirty five minuets then.", Joe could hear Mark smirking on the phone.

"I don't drive that fast.", Joe grinned,  "It will take me at least ten minuets to get to Queens."

"What no jet engines yet?"

"No dammit.  No good scrap this month.", Joe was dripping with sarcasm too.

"Talk to you soon.", Mark uttered in his almost singsong accent.

"Later", Mark began to walk away as the phone fell in it's cradle.

Joe walked towards the pile of tools and broken parts on the floor.
\chapter{}

Why as Mark in a silly mood?  Perhaps Mark has good news about entrance into the next cyborg wars. Joe walked out the shop door scanning for strangers.  Satisfied that no-one as lurking in the shadows, Joe's mind began to wander.  The name cyborg wars was inaccurate, even funny he though. The main factor differentiating the cyborg war from other robot battle shows, was the two legged, two armed, nature of the machines.  Not that these robots actually used the legs though, they usually had tracks for oversized feet.  Joe noticed that the key he inserted into the door refused to turn.  Clearing his mind of competition, Joe examined and inserted a different key.

Joe had to be careful.  Joe Vallone was physically large and even intimidating, but if he were attacked he would be in trouble.  Ambulances responses were slower than ever and he had a bit of a baby face.  Joe walked in slow motion through the fog his breath created toward his classic Camaro.  The barely stock 1973 Camaro looked a bit strange with it's red door, sliver body and charcoal black hood.  The air intake system stuck up through a hole in the hood, hinting at the power it might conceal.  Joe thought it was probably a good thing it looked like a junk heap, otherwise it might not stay in the parking lot.

The suspension groaned as Joe climbed in the car.   Joe started the engine, and whole neighborhood knew it.  It's good to be a mechanic he thought, it about the only way this thing will pass inspection.  He turned on the stereo, loud, but then reached up and shut it back off again.   He reached under the seat and strapped on his computer, fitting a pair of Clark Kent's on.  Clark Kents, as computer savvy liked to call them, were thick framed non prescription glasses.  They weren't just any glasses.  They had typically had a projected computer screen visible to the wearer and a pair of cheap color cameras at the edge of either lens.

Hitting the lone button on the small bland square computer activated the binocular Heads Up Display Joe's model was equipped with.  Some text flashed by as the computer booted and synchronized with the computer Joe had retrofitted to the old Chevy.  Up popped semi translucent tachometer, speedometer and NOS gages.  Joe preferred the style of gage used in the elderly game Wipe Out, it matched the graphics on his LCD stereo readout.  Sensors on the cars hood and doors fed information into his HUD to visually enhance possible obstacles.  Most modern cars had HUDs built in, but Joe couldn't justify the windshield projector since he had the pair of clarks.

Joe looked around a the wireframed objects on the street scanning for cops.  He attracted alot of attention with his Chevy so a little patience was advantageous.  Joe tapped the screen on computer and made an arching thumbs up motion to his computer in the range of his clarks.  A symbol shaped like a double clef flashed by.  He turned the black knob on his 80s car stereo and on came static followed by a few clicks and then the Rolling Stones.  Joe Mashed the gas and he HUD tach shoot up to red.  He couldn't hear the tires squeal over the music and his exhaust.

Joe scanned for cops as he drove.  He was cranking along the Southern state parkway at about 75 mph.  The backward pitches designed into the road had made the Southern State only local parkway whose speed limit was not raised from the once mandatory 55 mph.  Speed traps were more common, the local police were harder to fund since the SOB Railroad line was opened.  Lots of people use mass transit locally now, so the police have to work harder to meet once reasonable quotas.  Blue blobs occasionally flickered as the car HUD computer looked for bush covered reflectors, cb traffic, or radar signals on the roadside.  

Joe always enjoyed taunting the turns with his old Chevy.  Hearing the engine revolve as he drifted around the turns was a another world from his job and his worries.  It as the fact that he built this car that really did it for him.  It was the feeling of a job well done that made the grease and sweat worth it.

Joe's horizontal and mental drift were interrupted by the double beep of his cell phones ringer.  Joe straitened the wheel, and reached for his phone and the radio at the same time leaving no hands for the wheel.   When pinning the phone between his head and ear Joe lost part of his HUD view as he stared around the edge of his glasses.  Joe answered the phone.

"Hello, I'm driving here"

"OK, here's the deal."  Mark Blurted, "We are going over Amans house.  Lucy is meeting us there"

"OK" 

Joe saw a blue blotch flicker in his lens, his driving knee twitched as he hit the brake with his other foot.

"You mean your crazy cousin?", Joe asked sounding a little worried.

"He not crazy...", the sound of Marks voice fell out of range as Joe let the phone drop to the seat.  He reached for the wheel as drove by the shiny black car parked on the roadside, very slowly.  

"Mark Hold on, cop."  Joe uttered through his teeth as he tried to look casual in his loud multicolor muscle car.  "Mark what hell are you hanging out with that guy for.  You know homeland security has gotta be watching him"  Mark drove around a turn out of and sight of the cop as if he were a hundred and three.  "I don't really feel like being watched.  I'll get busted for something."  Joe reached down for the phone and lifted it back to his ear.  He heard Mark fade back in.

"...just because he is a physicist from Iran doesn't mean he's a bad guy.  He showed me this great little computer he been writing programs for and..."

Joe cut Mark off, "Mark wooa I have no idea what you said hold on, hold on tell me when I get there.  98th right?" 

"Yea" Mark sounded a little hurt that Joe missed his rant.

"Alright I'll see you..."

Just then a loud bang.  Joe lurched forward and back.  The steering wheel lurched and Joe straitened it.  A second bang as the camero's rear end passed over the Gapping pothole launching Joe off his seat a second time.  Looking in the rear view mirror, Joe saw the monster.  It was four feet wide and at least one deep.  Joe's heart was pounding and Mark was yelling.  Joe glanced at his face in the rear view to check for damage and none seemed obvious.  "Holy crap!"  Joe exclaimed to Mark, "That was a pothole."

"Are you alright?  Holy crap I heard that here."

"When are they going to fix the frigging roads.", Joe said sarcastically.

"I'll get off, see you later", Mark said.

"OK later.", Joe pushed the button on the phone and lowered it to his seat.  Joe's heart as still racing.  He almost smashed his head on the wheel, that was too close.  Joe felt embarrassed and angry.  He felt embarrassed that Mark must have heard that fear in his voice, and angry that the condition of NY was deteriorating.   Weird that the object of his anger, was something his employment very much depended on.  The damage the poor roads inflicted on people's cars was vital to his lucky livelyhood.  Shouldn't he feel differently about it?   He was profiting from the decade of lackluster government budgets, but the unemployment rate did not make him feel any less frustrated.

Joe unmuted the volume and heard "Another one bites the dust" by Queen.  The perfect music for his car, he thought.  Same era, same attitude.   Joe shed his fear and accelerated again.  He began to dream of his latest creation, looking for ways to shave it's weight down.  He thought about drilling three 4 inch holes in an over-engineered torso support.  He could compensate with a triangular cross brace.  It would work but it would be ugly.  But would it clear the hip servo?  Click.  Maybe not... click.  Joe suddenly realized the click was not part of his daydream.  Joe recognized a familiar fear, the regret of facing another repair on this old car.  Oh damn, Joe thought, I must have damaged the car.  Click, click, BANG.  The car lurched.

The steering wheel was no longer responding.  Joe easily heard the sound of scraping metal and screeching tires.   The wheel was hard steering back and forth as remaining tie rod tried to convey Joe's counter steering to the other tire.  A strange calm came over Joe as he tried to compensate for the random action of the loose front tire.  The Camaro swung sideways with the horrible screeching noise all four tires make.  Joe looked for headlights or headlight markers but just got a red X on his clarks, the cars computer didn't know what to look for when sliding sideways.  Joe looked out the drivers side window and saw another giant pothole.  Then a crunch and bang simultaneously, the unforgettable auto accident noise.  Joe felt himself smash into the window as the rear of the lifted in the air.  He knew he was done for.  The car was beginning to roll.

Joe woke up coughing black smoke out of his lungs.  A small flame flickered out of the hole cut in his hood.  He knew he hadn't been out for more than a few seconds, because he had woken up at all.  Blood was running into his eyes.  He had only seconds.  He moved his legs and arms, they still seemed to function.   He unbuckled his shoulder harness, and climbed under the buckled roof and out the missing passenger door.  He felt the broken glass cutting his hands as they scraped along the seat, trying to push him out of the burning car.   Staggering away he pulled his broken clarks off.  "Where is the phone.." he mumbled to himself scanning the ground.  He absently reached in his back pocket, then his coat pockets.  He couldn't think strait anymore. Joe collapsed to the ground.   He knew he was going to die.

\chapter{}

I smell glass cleaner.  No wait, not glass cleaner, ammonia.   Joe stretched his arm to scratch other.  Why are my sheets itchy?  Who's cleaning around me?  Joe listened.  It's really quiet.  I hear a machine, maybe a computer?   Joe reached across his chest to scratch again.  A bandage..  

Joe remembered everything. The accident came back to him in more detail than when it happened.  The song, the clicking part about to fail, the pair of giant potholes.  Joe remembered all the blood running in his eyes.  How long have I been out?

Joe wiggled his toes and his fingers.   I don't seem to be paralyzed he thought.  My limbs respond, if they aren't phantoms that is.  Wait, I walked away from the car.  It was on fire.  Oh crap I loved that car, it was demolished.  Joe began to try to visualize the damage to the car.  Joe began to take stock of the damaged parts and how he would begin to fix them.  Oh wait, he thought, what if I'm blind?

Joe opened his eyes.  The light was intense.  He squinted and tried again.  His vision was snowy but at least his eyes worked.   He was afraid the broken Clarks might have damaged his eyes.  Joe's vision began to come into focus.  Everywhere he turned his eyes his vision was speckled with pepper.  Little gray spots.  Joe heard voices in the hallway.  One was his aunt.  In a childish moment, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"You don't have that right.  Life and death, is subject to a higher morality."  it's not like any damage was done."  Joe recognized his aunt's whispering voice.

"This hospital participates under a specific auspice." Joe heard a man say not so quietly.  The man had a southern drawl.  "Our research effort counts on the limited funds alloted to this project."  

"Don't cry poverty to me." His aunt shot back, "You people have more money than you know what to do with.  That boy is like a son to me, you would have done the same thing for your daughter.  The need was real and immediate."  

Their talking about me Joe thought.  He immediately felt a little anger towards the man who spoke to his aunt like that.

"OK, OK I believe",  the strange man paused, "I believe I can convince the committee that any risk of exposure is a risk of a public debacle."   "I think that they will see that as far to risky to end the project here. What you do need to disable them immediately, and you do need to be far more careful with other people's property."

The man paused and then said, "I will expect full analysis and data.",  as his voice faded and echoed.  He was walking up the hall.  Joe heard a shoe squeak.

"You foolish child."   Dr Graceland whispered startling Joe, she was closer than he thought.  His aunt saw Joe's eyes blink open.  "You're awake."  She proclaimed, suddenly ecstatic.

"Yea barely" Joe mumbled.  

"I have to call your father"  Joe's aunt was brimming. 

"I'm glad I'm alive too... I though I would die for sure."

"How do you feel?"

"Lousy, and my eyes are grainy.  You aren't going to give me a speech are you?"

Dr Graceland chuckled.  "No Joe not this time."

Joe thought about the accident again.  He grimaced a little.

"How did they find me?  I don't remember finding my cell phone."

"The explosion."

"The explosion?"  Joe began internally erasing any hope or repairing his car.

"I guess you passed out before it happened.  You're car sent a fireball into the sky."

"The explosion?"  Joe repeated in a gravely voice.  "Oh wait it was on fire."

"A state trooper up the road saw the explosion from his speed trap up the road."  Teressa said.  She drew close to his face and looked very worn.  "If your car hadn't exploded you would be dead."

Joe stopped worrying about his un-fixable car.

"Do you think the explosion damaged my eyes?"

"It's possible."  His aunt reached for her pocket flashlight.  "What can you see?" She shined the light in his left eye.

"I see little pepper specks everywhere."

"It might be....hmmm"

"It might be what?"

"The nanites."

Joe looked briefly confused.

"I have nanites in me, cool!", Joe almost shouted, his eyes widening.

Joe felt excitement and fear at the same time.   A huge fear campaign had aired on TV over the past year.   Government commercials talking about the unprecedented risks of unbridled nano-size machinery in the hands of terrorists.  On the other hand they are tiny robots, which are right up Joe's ally.  Really, Joe thought, who cares about the three letter agencies anyway.

"You'll be sad to hear, I have to shut them off daredevil.", Dr. Graceland said with a strait face.  She reached for a wheeled machine and pulled it toward her.  She flipped a switch on top.

"They're still on?"  Joe asked in amazement.  All of sudden it all snapped into place for Joe.  The nanites must have some responsibility in Joe's good fortune.  That conversation in the hall with the angry man was about the nanites.  It seemed Aunt Teressa must taken a big chance to keep him alive.  Joe's smile faded.

"I'll be right back, I need another machine." Joe's aunt walked out of the room.  
Joe pushed his guilt aside, and began to frequently search around for something to save some blood.  I have to get these to the guys, Joe thought.  He heard his aunt's shoes coming back.  He layed strait in his bed again. His aunt was carrying what looked like a small old laptop with a cable dangling from its hinge.

"We have never had a conscious subject before with active nanotech.  That might be what is causing the distortion of you vision.  The nanites are more dense than natural blood components.  There may be other side effects too."  She plugged the laptop into the device on a rolling cart and a small light flickered.

"So what do the nanites do?", Joe asked hoping to keep things in the present tense.    

Joe's Aunt continued plugging in a few wires and booting the laptop.  She pulled Joe's clipboard off the end of the bed.  She faced him and tried to look serious.  "You need to rest now, I'll tell you more later."  With that she turned, and left the room.  It didn't sound like she wanted any more questions.

Joe head was starting to swim, but he was determined to save a little of his own blood for later.  He spotted his cell phone on the nightstand.  Joe groaned as he reached behind his head.  He pulled the phone to himself by the extended antenna.  The phone beeped off as Joe clicked the cover off of the rear of the phone.  He flipped it and poured the colorless alcohol fuel cell contents under his pillow.  The alcohol smell was making him sleepier. 

"I hope this works", Joe mumbled to himself.  He held the empty cell container to the wound on his other hand.  he pulled the bandage away and aggravated the gouge with his fingers.  I must be loaded up with coagulants, Joe thought, as a few small drops slowly dripped into the cell.  

Joe quickly clicked the cell back into his phone and reached behind himself dropping it on the stand.  Joe let himself feel the pain as he pulled his arm back to his side.  He was tired.  Joe lay still with his eyes closed, waiting to hear his aunt return.
\chapter{}
"You can't wake him up."

"Why not, he's already been awake.  They let us in here."

Was Joe dreaming? He heard middle eastern accents all around him.

"Do you want to make him sicker?"

I know that voice, Joe thought.

"No, I guess you're right", Mark uttered.

"Where am I? Pakistan?", Joe wasn't going to let his friends have one more moment of sympathy and pity for him.

"No New Iraq, and you're our prisoner.  Moo ha ha!", Mark claimed with his best announcers voice.

"I though so. I wake up hearing all these scary accents, and I wasn't sure what I did last night."

Another voice said, "Mark you don't even sound scary." 

Joe recognized the voice.  The other person in the room was Aman.  Joe looked through the doorway for feds.  Obviously they didn't arrive yet, Joe thought sarcastically.

"Hey how's it going Aman."  Joe blurted out his voice wavering a bit.  

"How are you feeling?"  Aman said.

Aman was in his late twenties.  He was shorter than the unusually tall Mark.  Perhaps a little nerdy looking.  But his dark skin, and deep accent gave him away as a Iranian or at least someplace close by.

"I feel worse, than yesterday."  Joe said.

"Oh so you were awake.  Why didn't call man were sunk without you.  It took me two days just to install the new hip servos."

"Two days?" Joe mumbled.

"Yea what you think everybody is some kind of mechanical superman?  The program for the servos is tied to..."

"That's not what I mean. I was out for two days?"  Joe sounded confused.  "What day is it?"  

"Tuesday."

"How long has it been?"

"A week and five days."

"What?  I felt fine two days after."  Joe started sounding angry, "Why the hell have I been asleep for a week."

"You're aunt said you are very bad, and that you almost died, twice.", Mark was talking in an even calm voice.  He seemed to think Joe was getting to agitated.

"Twice?", Joe mumbled.  His head was spinning.  He definitely felt worse than the other day.

Joe was staring at Mark when he realized his head was no longer surrounded by grey flecks.  I almost died the second time when they shut the nanites off.  Wait, the phone... Joe snapped his neck back and forth and saw the discharged phone sitting on the end table.

"Some complication.. what do you need?" Mark said, watching Joe.

Joe reached up to grab Marks arm, but stopped short when he yanked the tube in his arm.  Joe grimaced when he saw a little blood drip from the needle in his arm.  

Mark figured that Joe was beckoning him closer and cooperated.  Mark's eyes widened in an involuntarily sympathy as he dipped his head.  

Joe hardened his resolve beyond mere pride, he leaned up and whispered in Marks ear.  "My cell phone, take it home and store the blood in the cell in the fridge.  Don't mention this to Aman." Joe relaxed his raised neck and looked relieved.

"Huh?  Do what?  What are you delirious?", Mark looked deeply concerned.

"He probably is.", Teressa Graceland said as she strode in the doorway.  "Perhaps it was too soon for you boys to see him."

Oh no, Mark cummon do as I told you. Don't say anything about the phone. Joe as practically projecting his thoughts. He stared intently at Mark, trying to look as stern as possible.

"Why don't you let him rest and come back tomorrow.", Dr Graceland grabbed the tablet from his footboard and was glaring at Joe's vitals.  The graphs were moving erratically.

Joe felt his heartrate going through the roof.  If his aunt knew about the extra blood she would surely make it worse for both of them with her honesty.  Just take the phone, Joe thought.

Mark walked past Joe's aunt and grabbed the cell off of end table.  Dr Graceland gave Mark a strange look.

"Joe asked me to please check his messages.  I need the password off the scratch pad.", he plunged the phone into his pocket.

Dr. Graceland and Joe's faces relaxed.  "Oh. Ok.", she said.

Joe let himself feel the exhaustion creeping in.  Looking at his friend he said "Thank you Mark.", and closed his eyes to sleep.

Joe's vital waves slowed their pace.
\chapter{}
"Dad, I'm going over to Lucy's.", Joe announced as he strode through the spartan kitchen to the table where Joe's father was sitting.  

Joe's father looked up at him through a smoky sunbeam.  His brow furrowed, deepening the lines on his forehead.  "You sure you're up to it?"  He asked in a deep scratchy voice with a slight Brooklyn accent. 

Joe was staring at the smoke whisping up from the cigar sitting in his fathers ash tray.  Joe snapped out of his trance, and said, "Yea I am.  I have to go out again sometime."  Joe was staring at the long ash on the cigar again. "I can't be afraid to live."  

"I may not be here later.  I expect you will call me if you have any trouble"

"Do you have an interview? or work?", Joe asked.  He knew his father wasn't sensitive about unemployment.  He was hardly alone being jobless.

"No, I going down to have a beer.  I've had enough today.", his father eyes looked as if he had.  "Sometimes you can just feel when you are wasting your time, in your gut."  Joe dad put his hand on Joe's bicep, "My gut tells me good things about you.  You're tough as nails."

Joe replied in a deeper voice,"Thanks Dad.", He turned and walked from the room.  Joe did not see his dad look after him though his cigar's growing cloud.

Joe clicked the screen door shut behind him.  Joe loved his dad but could not spend to much time with him.  It was not in his nature to provide the level of emotional support his dad needed.  Joe wondered if his dad would ever get over the death of his mother.  I know I won't, he though.

Joe had arrived at the near by house.  Joe reached up and knocked the wrought iron door knocker.  The metal clank piercing the silence around him.  The wooden door creaked open an inch. 

"Oh hi Joe.",  Lucy uttered groggily.  She rattled the chain and pulled the door fully open.  "I fell asleep.", she said pulling her dark brown frazzled hair from her face.  She stumbled back inside and Joe followed her.  She turned around and hugged Joe, "I'm so glad you're OK."

Her warm body distracted him from his earlier distressful thoughts.  Joe thought it felt good to be touched.  He had not felt a woman physically comfort him since the crash.  He returned the hug.

"I'll be right back and then we'll go.", she made sure to let go of Joe before talking to him.  

Joe sat down and watched her leave the room.  Lucy was 27 years old, not that you could tell.  She was a convincing teenager, of medium height and athletic build.  She carried herself out of the room in a femine lighthearted way, swimming a little in her light loose shirt.  Joe knew better, she was a focused mature woman.  Joe was sure he would never let himself have feelings for her other than friendship.  She wouldn't want it any other way.

 A minute later, she strode in the room donning her blue "The A Team" shirt.  The shirt was read "The Team A" on the air, after they officially changed the name after cyborg wars producer got a nasty call from a lawyer claiming trademark infringement.  They ended up sarcastically correcting the announcer every interview.  As a cheap shot, the announcer read the words in order every interview.  The truth was they were to busy to print more T shirts.  Their elaborate plan turned into Team A's very own trademark of sorts.  Joe was surprised they hadn't been told to stop.  Joe said half aloud, "We had better keep winning, or we'll have to make new shirts."

 Lucy fumbled in a desk drawer by the door.  Gritting her teeth she pulled some keys on a stretchy chain out the overflowing drawer.  "OK lets go." 

 "Were you planning on going to the shop?", Joe said a little perplexed by the shirt.

 "No, we really need to go soon though.", she glanced the A on top of her breasts, "Cyborg wars have been pretty accommodating but they can't keep us out of the lineup past next week."

"Crap" Joe muttered.  He began to recall his train of thought in the carthree weeks ago.  He began to imagine the cross member supports again.

Lucy saw the telltale idle stare. "Worry about that stuff tomorrow.", she said.

Lucy was being sensitive or motherly.  Joe couldn't decide.  He tried to snap out of work mode.

"Lets go.", Lucy suggested.  

"Where is Filly, isn't she comming?", Joe looked at Lucy out of the corner of his eye.

"I left her at her grandmothers last night.  I need a break."

Joe thought it was a little strange.  The crew like answering Filly endless questions, and she liked watching the the team build stuff.  She wasn't a troublesome kid.   Mopeing a little Joe lead the way out the door. 

Lucy clicked the button on her key chain and the lights blinked on a black van across the street.  Joe heard the engine start.  They climbed in the shinny windowless van.  Lucy clicked on her broadcast radio.  A love song came on the radio.  Nothing Joe recognized or cared for.  Lucy began driving, and Joe flipped through the stations. "Damn I hate the radio.", Joe muttered "Internet stuff is better."  

"Then why do you turn it on?", Lucy asked.

"I dunno.  Hope maybe.", Joe remarked.

Joe clicked the tuner button and stumbled onto the weather.  "Today it will be sunny and 41 a little cool and clear tonight at 32 degrees...  ...In Seattle, 46 unruly protesters were arrested today, 12 were held on charges of disrupting a police investigation into potential terrorist activity."  The voice changed "When we tried to arrest the suspects for breaking and entering, 35 students attempted to physically block the law officers..."

Joe drowned out the quiet radio.  "The radio announcer can't even count today...", he sounded frustrated.

Lucy looked over at Joe and smiled "I wonder...", and suddenly slammed on the brakes.  

Joe looked up to see a man in front of the car tight dirty clothing staring right at Lucy.  The man tried to look surprised, but looked too calm for belief.  The tires finally stopped screeching a few feet before the man.  

"What are you trying to kill me?", the man yelled.

"Uhh .." Lucy was speechless.

"What do you think this is buddy?  Huh.  A free lunch?  I saw the look on your face."  Joe knew it was an attempt at a insurance scam, abet a painful one.  The man may have even wanted to steal the van.  It was not uncommon.  He leaned out the semi open car window and stared the man down.  His eyes widening and his knuckles turning white.  

After a moment assessing Joe, the man stormed away.  Joe continued to stare at him as he quickened his pace to a jog.  Joe had learned to communicate physically in way he could not with words.

"Quick! what where you thinking?"  Lucy asked.  "You could have gotten us killed."  Lucy was clearly shook up, rarely called him by his nickname.

"There were two guys behind the shrubs around the corner, and the look on his face was just not right.  I thought it might be an ambush.  If I called more attention to us I thought we would be a harder target."

Lucy looked at him briefly.

"Lucy, I could be wrong, but I had to trust my gut.  If I'm wrong no big deal but if I was right..."

"OK.", she was convinced.  "I'm glad you were here."  Lucy pulled away from the intersection. 

"There have been a lot of desperate people lately.", Joe was trailing off.  "Lucy"

"Yes", Lucy was busy getting onto the parkway.

"Why did you decide for us to form a team.", Joe was thinking aloud.

"I guess it was my gut.", Lucy emphasized the word my, "You seemed focused on the mechanical aspects of robotics."

"You mentioned something about men, ambition, and competition.", his voice sounded weak and unsure.  "How do you see me.. as a friend?"

"Sure Joe.", Lucy was relived he didn't say something awkward.

"No really." 

"Really Joe.  If you want to quit the team, I understand.  This is risky business for you.", Lucy tried to look sincere.

He paused.  Joe hadn't even considered quiting the "A" Team.  Not only did he need the creative output for his mechanical abilities, but it was was less dangerous than his day job. 

"Thats not what I meant.  I need the money, and it's easier than Sun Auto." Joe paused, I have to trust her.  What choice do I have, he thought.

"Would you drop the team for me?"

"Why?", Lucy was immediately shocked. It was obvious she felt unwanted.

"No, it's not like that.", Joe paused. "I did something crazy." 

"Yea you flipped you car, blew it up and almost died twice."

"No.... Yea... That last thing.  Don't you wonder about that?"

"What?", Talking to Joe was as non-productive as usual.

"That I almost died twice." Joe muttered sheepishly.

"Your aunt said it was complications."

"The complication was they shut the nanites off."

Lucy eyes widened.  "They put nanites in you?  They have medical nantites? I thought they could only be build for a vacuum."

"So did I.   This guy told my aunt to shut them off.  But before they did I stole some by draining my blood into my cell phone."

Wide eyed, Lucy paused and then asked, "...where's the phone?"

"Mark has it."  

"Holy crap." 

"Yea."

They both sat and soaked in the repercussions.    

"Mark's gunna flip.", Lucy started.

"We have to be careful.", "Aman is crashing with him.  I don't trust him not to actually start some Jihad with them."

"No me either. He needs to much acceptance.  He isn't sure of himself.  Like he might say to much if he opens up."  Lucy paused again, "Quick you rock!"
\chapter{}
The door to marks apartment opened. "Holy shit, Joe you are the coolest Guy on the whole planet." Mark exclaimed.

"Cool right.", Joe shared in Marks amazement.   Mostly Joe was amazed that Mark knew already.

"What are you guys talking about?" Lucy asked hesitantly.

"The nanites.", Mark exclaimed smiling.

"Uh how did you know?", Lucy asked pointedly.

"Impressive, I never told him.", Joe said to Lucy.

"I've seen them.", said Mark.

"What? How?", Lucy asked.  

"A microscope, duh."  Mark said childishly.

"How big are they?", Joe asked.  

"About a tenth the size of a red blood cell in a ball shape.  They look really far out."

"Wow cool." Joe exclaimed.

"Do they do anything? I'm not even sure why they were in me."  Joe said.

"Why don't we go inside instead of broadcasting this to your neighbors?", Lucy half whispered.

"Oh right yea", Mark said sheepishly.  

Joe and Lucy followed Mark in.  The living room was decorated in tan and red colors.  There were many rugs and intricate carvings in the furniture.  A grey stone budda looked over them.  After Mark closed the door, Lucy turned to him. "Mark, where is Aman?"

"He is over at the shop..."

"Thank God.", Joe exclaimed.

Lucy sighed, "Good than we can talk about this now."

"He knows.", Mark said, "He is at the shop trying to bring them to life."  

Joe and Lucy looked at one another.  Joe reached up and held Marks shoulders, "Why did you tell him?"

"He's cool Joe.", Mark uttered. 

Joe couldn't even tell if Mark believed himself.  Lucy and Joe were staring at mark.

After pausing a second Mark turned to Joe, "I know you guys don't trust Aman.  He pretty mysterious about things we share, but I believe he is a good hearted guy.  We would have been up the creek without his knowledge.  I told him what you said, and he stopped me.  I wanted to put the blood in the fridge and he suggested that was not a good idea until we knew what we where dealing with.  He looked under the microscope and thought we were looking at a gigantic virus.  He called somebody and we pick a ST Microscope out on the Island to look at them"  Mark began to lose his composure.  "It's so cool, the nanties have these little recessed squares, they have to be..."

"I'm still not seeing how he saved us Mark.", Lucy was less intent, but still didn't look convinced.

"He stopped me from following Joe instructions.  We experimented with a few nanties and put them in the fridge.  It's great for blood cells but it destroys the nanites."  Mark looked at Joe, "They break into about 15 pieces. Looks like they were designed to fail if they get to cool.  We've been keeping them at 98 degrees ever since."

"Oops.", Joe was turning red again.  "In my defense I was a bit delirious." 

"Point taken", Mark said.  Mark looked at Lucy.

"OK well I guess we can't make him un-know.", Lucy turned up the corner of her mouth in a half smile.

"One small problem.", Mark said, "They don't do anything, maybe they were just being used for data collection?"

"Even then they would need to be powered and to communicate..."  Joe stared blankly for a some seconds, suddenly he looked up.  "I think I know why.",  Joe returned to his catatonic state, trying to recall his faded memories in the hospital...

"OK want to share?", Mark asked sarcastically.

"No.", Joe matched Marks sarcasm.  "I think my aunt turned them off.  That's why I almost died."

"Oh...", Mark paused "How?"

"A Machine.", Joe muttered staring intently.

"And gee I thought it would be a sacred dance.", Mark was smiling.

"Hey why not.  Doctors definitely don't have enough fun.", Lucy said.

They both looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"It could be done that way with.. nanties.. in.. the. eyes.  What?", Lucy stumbeled

Joe cut in, "There was a paddle... attached to a wheeled machine with a screen, and a laptop."

"A defibrillator on low power!", Mark exclaimed. "Who's the man. Who's the man"  Mark began do dance around the room.

"Watch out, you'll turn them on.", Joe laughed.

"So lets see them.", Lucy said smiling.  

"OK we need to get over to the shop.  Wait let me call Aman and tell him how to turn them on.", Mark changed direction three times.  He walked out of the living room and emerged with a phone.  "Hello Aman.  You turn them on with a low power difiburlator and some kind of laptop signal current control thingy.... Yes I'm sure... That's what Joe saw from his bed.  OK we'll be there soon."  Mark hung up the phone and proclaimed.  "Aman is going to try some basic signals with current.  This is going to be so cool."

"Don't you think you might fry them if you send to much power out?",  Lucy asked.

"Na, Aman's been separating them one or two at a time to experiment with.  We must have ten thousand in that sample.", Mark sounded confidant.  "Lets get some lunch."

"Sounds good to me, I'm starving.  Joe said."

Lucy looked deep in thought.  "You know, I think you are a little off Mark."

"Yea so?" Mark reached for his keys.

"A difibulator is still way to powerful and to simple to turn down the current down that much."

"Should I call Aman back?"  Mark put his keys back down.  He walked toward the phone.

"No. But will need to stop at the store on the way.  We need a chip and probe.", Lucy uttered.

"What did they use on me?" Joe asked, tring to read Lucy's face.

Lucy touched her stomach.  "One paddle, not two right? And a big screen?"

"Yea, that sounds right."

"It sounds like a ultrasound machine."  Lucy lead them out the door.

\chapter{}

Joe looked at Lucys troubled face as they drove.  It was obvious to Joe Lucy was concerned about Aman, but could they do?  They could ban him from working with the nanites, but who is to say he didn't stow some away for later.  No they would have to let him play around and watch him.  Mark's dedication to his family seemed outside common sense.  Mark lacked the emotionial quotent or imagination to realize the anger the people of Iran must have with Americans and America's most recent war.  Aman came here out of anger and/or the instinct to survive, not to satisfy curiosity and a thirst for adventure like his Indian cousin Mark and his parents. 

Aman is exactly why the Feds were started their witchhunt on public use of nanotech, thought Joe.  Allah must not be allowed a perfect bloodless vengance on that scale.  I must be really selfish, Joe imagined.  Taking a risk with a world full of lives so I can play with yet another robot.  Joe felt ashamed.

Joe looked up and noticed the sun was gone, obscured by endless clouds.  Joe was gazing up into the gray sky as the black van pulled through the ten foot fence.   The sight of the drab warehouse on the endless blanket of concrete felt good to Joe.  It meant independance and prestige.  Lucy parked the Van and shut it off.   With the moist cool air weighing on them, The A's started their march towards the the main door.

A nuron fired in Joe's brain.  He had seen movment out of the corner of his eye.  Joe whipped his head around peaking the interest of Mark and Lucy.  

"What?", asked Mark.

Joe stared at a distant building beyond the fence, "I could swear I saw somthing move over there."

"Probably a tumbleweed, that warehouse is very out of business, missing a roof, lacking windows...", Mark said sarchasitcly.

"It's somebody having sex!", Lucy joked.

"It's still daylight.", Joe mumbled.  Distracted and serious he turned on his heel.

Joe began to run.  His team looked on as he ran top speed toward the building.

"Damn he's fast.", remarked Mark in his jovial Indian accent.  He turned to Lucy shrugging,  "I guess he really wants to see live sex."  They turned and walked toward the shop door.

Joe was quickly approaching the building.  He ran through a weed covered parking lot, losing sight of his friends.  He slowed as he approached the far corner of the delapitated concrete and brick building.   Peering around the building Joe saw a distant figure wearing jeans and a dark jaket.  The figure was hustling toward a newish Black Lincoln Towncar.  He squinted as the large man opened the drivers side door.  As the man got in the car his jacket lifted, he was wearing a gun.

Joe's moderate breathing hushed to a whisper.  He pulled his head back around the corner, and stared to stare into space. Joe reasured himself, it must be an ordinary police car on an unercover patrol.  He looked around the corner and did not see the tell tale siren lights.  I had better get the plates in case I need them later.  Just then the Towncar started and it's wheels began to spin.  Joe turned around the corner but it was to late, dust and smoke from the cars tires obscured the licence plate as it sped away.

Joe jogged into the shop.   His eyes adjusted to the lower light and he could see the vast clutter and equiptment lining the walls.  He scanned through equiptment and half finished 5 foot robots for Mark and Lucy.  He spotted them by a computer at a small desk near several tall black servers.  Aman was sitting at the computer.  Aman was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and his large beard stuck out either side from behind his head.

Hearing his footsteps in the silent room, Mark turned around.  "Oh hey Joe feel better?  Where they doing it or just kissing?"

"Ha Ha very funny.", Joe said in his Brooklyn accent, "It was a guy with a gun getting into a Towncar."  Joe realized just how casual he sounded.

Marks face dropped, like he suddenly realized somthing.  "What?, Was it the cops?  Did the he see you?"

Aman turned to face them.  The muscles in Amans face flexed showing his age. 

Joe regreted saying somthing so hastily.  

Aman spoke solid english but with a heavy arabic accent,  "That sounds like every taxi driver in New York city."  Aman looked at Joe as he said it.

Joe began to speak as if he could not stop himself,  "Anyone you know?" Joes face visably turned to a grimice.  He just thought of a hundred reasons he shouldn't have said it.

Aman said sarcasticly, "So Joe, should I ask you that too?",  "How did you get these?  Is it legal?  Did you build them yourself?"  Aman knew it sounded rediculous.

All eyes turned to Joe. "The're probably not totally legal, but they've gotta exist to be illegal right?"  Joe grinned, acting proud of himself.  He was tring to change the mood.

Aman kept a strait face and continued to stare at Joe.  "How did you get the one thing that everybody wants but are impossible to build?  Where did you steal them from?"

"My aunt asked me to look at them.", Joe still wore a hopefull but fading smile. 

"That's why they were hidden in you're cell phone?  That's why you don't even know how to turn them on?", Aman looked little angry.

"Who asked you anyway?"  Joe's venomous look began to creep over his face.  The two men glared at each other.  Lucy's eyebrow was rasied.  Mark looked nervous.

"What shocks have you tried?  Any luck?", Mark's accent sounded jovial compared to Aman.  He was looking nervously between the two other men.   Joe decided it wasn't worth the risk of seeding the gurillea army of Aman's choise and turned away.  I need coffee, Joe thought.  He walked to the far side of the shop.

Aman turned to Mark.  "I believe you were wrong.", Aman said matter of factly.  "I did the math on voltage not harmful to the host and I believe few nanites would be reached this way.  I tried many patterns of signal with plain DC current but no reaction occoured.  Most non-vaccum nanite plans I found on the net use ultrasound to talk.  I need an audio transmiter and microphone to continue.  I found a program that might work with some changes."

A stone faced Lucy dropped a white plasic bag on the table.  "Used ultrasound paddle."  She turned to Aman but spoke loudly to indicate Joe as well "Bought with cash for the extra parinoid."  Aman looked at her as if she had sprouted horns.

Joe turned his head from the coffee machine and smiled.  He was cerain Aman was not used to being admonished by a strange woman.  Welcome to Long Island, he thought.

Mark began quietly discussing the poor choise in molecular bonds in plans Aman had found on the Internet.  Lucy strolled over to Joe as the discussion accelerated into long strings of letters and numbers.  She recognised it as molecular bond technobabble.  

Lucy grabbed her mug from the sink nearby.  "Joe you have to cool it.  He's in now don't make him crazier."

Joe looked curled his upper lip inward to indicate he understood.   He poured water into the top of the dirty instant coffee machine.  Joe whispered, "We're screwed, he's going to turn around and kill us all with this stuff."  Joe lowered his eyebrows.  "I understand some simple physics and chem, but I won't be able to keep an eye on him.  Even Mark doesn't understand half of what he says."

"Maybe we need to tell your aunt.", Lucy suggested.

Joe was clearly stressed. "No way Lucy, you had to hear the way this guy told my aunt to shut them off.  She would defiantly be fired and then nobody will have money comming in.  My pops still can't find work and I can't help him enough."

"Which guy?"  Lucy asked, pausing. "Oh right you told me about him with the southern accent."  Lucy's face lit up.  "Well why don't we mix it up then?"  Lucy paused, "We need to bring someone else in."

They both stared into space listening to Mark babbleing.  "How about Kento? err I mean Bob." Joe suggested.

"Are you sure he would be cool with it?"  Lucy asked.  "I haven't talked to him in a while."

"Lucy are you kidding? That guy could talk to me for 2 hours about one 2099 comic."

".....O..K", Luck indicated confusion.

"There have been lots of refrances to nanites in 2099, and I just talked to him a couple of months ago."

"He's a processer designer right?", Lucy asked

"Well last I checked a laid off one.  Not alot going on in chips at his pay.  He should be able to keep up with Aman.", Joe shuffled to the nearby filthy window and peered out the corner.

"We should ask Mark first.", Lucy stated.  Joe nodded his head.  

Joe looked Lucy in the eyes, "Lucy, my clarks were destroyed the crash, can I use the house glasses?  With my pc?".

"Joe you don't have to ask me every time you want to use something that doesn't look like scrap.  I wouldn't have funded the team if it had to be like that."

"Don't worry, you guys are gunna make us rich.",  Lucy smiled a crooked smile.  "How are you feeling?"

Joe was feeling a little weak but did not admit it. "I'm fine now that I have clarks again."  He smiled,  "I was going through withdrawal."  Joe looked over at Mark,  "We need him alone."

"I'll get him", Lucy vollentered.

Joe paused, "Wait, I'll get the clarks and show him the latest Kamakaze plans."

"Won't Aman want to see them too?"  Lucy wondered.

Joe looked over at Aman and Mark.   Aman was squinting and furiously typing and Mark was sitting on the bench next to him disecting the ultrasound wand.

"Naaaa."  Joe smiled widely.

Joe poured himself coffee into a green mug with the faded name of a long dead .com.  He wanted to let Lucy know he was serious about the man with the gun outside, but he decided it would be better to save it until Mark was there too.  

He walked over to the bench next to their robot testing area where the clarks were resting.  Joe donned the clarks and connected them to the computer he still had in his jacket pocket.  He pulled the small computer out and strapped it to his arm.  After touching the screen the LCD on the units body lit up and he was back where he was at the crash.  He pulled case out of his pocket and removed a pencil like wand.  He ran the cord hanging from it through the wrist band of his watch and plugged the end into his arm PC.  He twisted the wand and small air flow and mercury sensors indicated, combined with the input from the clarks cameras indicated the movement to the computer.  He much prefered the wand when his hands were free because it was far more accurate then the mounted cameras estimations of his commands.

The clarks screen lit up and displayed a classic 2d web browser on 4 sides of a 3d cube.  He spun the cube to choose a side and locked it in place with another movement.  He droped the wand and began to type in the air directly in front of him.  Not nearly as many characters appeared as finger movement indicated.  He would have spend some time on a tedious typing calibration with these clarks later.   Frustrated, Joe clicked on a series of links and began to read.  

Satisfied with the page, Joe picked up a small box from the top of the monitor on the bench beside him.  It had the image of red lips printed on one side.  He the lips to the LCD screen on his arm PC.  Grabing the dangling wand Joe made a swift hand motion and the monitor lit up with the latest revision of plans of the kamakaze rocket.

"Cool" Joe delieberatly spoke a bit louder than before.  He looked over at Mark and he was looking in Joes direction.  Aman was not.  "Mark check this fuel pump design on kamakaze."  Mark stood up and predictably walked away from Aman and toward Joe.  

Mark looked at the schematic for a minute, and said "Joe, you hadn't seen this?  It's three weeks old.  Oh wait, I guess you wouldn't have."

"I must have missed it before I had the wreck.", Joe lied.  

"I don't think it's any better and it uses point three amps more juice.", Mark declared.

"It saves 2 pounds in heat sheild weight.", Joe offered.  Joe looked over at Aman as Mark stared in to the monitor.  He saw Lucy had strolled over to them with her coffee.

"Hi guys, Kamakaze again?", Lucy asked.

"Yea, catching up."  Joe lied.  

Mark looked up at Joe and Lucy.  He cocked his head.  "Somthing's not right here.", He looked right at Lucy.  "Why are you interested in the Kamakaze?"

Lucy stared at Mark trying to read him.  "Fine be that way.", Lucy smiled to hint she might be joking.  "Mark we want to bring our friend Kento in on the nanites."  Lucy choked on the last word.

"Who is Kento?",  Mark quiried in an unusually flat voice.

"He's a Buddy of mine from school."  He's older than me, he's 24.  "He was a senior in my freshman year, we had shop together..."

"Ok but why him.",  Mark asked.  "What is in it for us?"

"He's a jobless chip builder..", Joe started.

Mark jumped in, "OK sounds good too me, but I want to meet him before I agree first.  I want to make sure I can talk to him."

"Uhh errr OK."  Joe was surprised, "That was easy.  You think Aman will be OK with it?"

"Does it matter?", Mark shrugged.

Maybe Mark noticed Aman's anger more than Joe thought.  He saw Lucy smile.  Joe looked back at Mark and saw Aman over Marks shoulder glancing their way.  He absentmindedly uttered, "No... I guess it doesn't."
\chapter{}
Joe was walking through the hall of a hospital wing.  An assortment of patients were strewn about the floor moaning and wailing.  Many of them looked pale, almost bloodless.  Joe walked over crawling patients towards an open door a light flickering from it.  There was a pile of bodies.  Doctors and nurses, clearly murdered were still in there blood stained work uniforms.  A single florescent light dangled from the ceiling flickering.

Joe heard a rhythmic pair of sounds both ticking and rumbling.  He looked at the source of the sound.  The far wall of the room had full size windows, but nothing was evident in the night.  Actually nothing at all was evident at all through the windows but a perfect blackness.  Joe wanted to get a closer look but was afraid of the growing noise.

The window wall exploded.  Glass flew all about and the flaming concrete structure fell into the room and then back out again.  Daylight streamed in framing the silhouette of a helicopter.  The dark green Apache attack helicopter hovered in place, missile launchers nearly full.  Joe's heart stopped in fear.

Joe turned and ran up the now empty hall, reaching an open daylit window at the end of the hall.  Joe wanted to jump out it.  He knew he would be safe if he jumped. Yet Joe couldn't take the plunge.  It was too crazy for him to jump out of a 20 story window.  A phone on the wall near Joe began to ring.  Joe stared in confusion, not sure why the phone didn't belong there.  He reached for it..

In a start Joe woke up.  Sweating.  The phone next to his bed was ringing.  After it rang a few times Joe picked up.

"Hello", Joe asked in a hesitant gravelly voice.

"Joeee, I got your messgae, how are you holding up?", a strange voice asked across the phone.

"Uh, uh, OK... Considering everything.", Joe began to gather his thoughts.

"What, you you alright man?", A boyish man at the other end of the phone asked.  "I haven't seen you on NYN in a month.  Cyborg Wars is nothing with their A team.  Those bastards didn't kick you off because of the whole A team thing.  You think Hollywood would move on and not harass you guys!  All that's left is lawyers and some guys making geezer movies.  I read that their total connection rate was down this month." 
"No not yet.", Joe replied smiling.

"So what is this everything of which you speak.", the gleefull sarchasic voice asked.

"Do you have an interview today?",  Joe asked.  He felt his stomach sink as he thought about how awkward this sounded.  He looked out the window of his room in his fathers house, feeling embarrassed and childish.

"Na nothing lined up... so be it.", he sounded no less chipper.

"Can we meet for some coffee?", Joe asked.

"Cool man lets do it.  I'd love to catch up." 

"OK how about today?", Joe was nervous he would say no.

"Sure but I've got to shower, I've been training and boy do I stink."

"What are you up to now?", Joe asked.

"5th degree, and brown in karate too, but your so quick you probably take me anyway."

"Don't wanna try Kento."  Joe replied.

"I can meet you in an hour at our cafe on Sunrise Highway.", Kento suggested.

"Sounds good.  See you there.", Joe said.  

"Goodbye for now ha ha ha.",  Kento did his best to imitate a maniacal laugh as he hung up the phone.

Joe sat listening to the dial tone. He didn't usually have bad dreams.  What as that all about anyway.  Dead doctors, opaque windows, explosions, pale zombie patients were an unusual setting and cast for Joe night show.  I have stop taking afternoon naps, Joe thought.  His thoughts were interrupted with instructions on how to use a telephone blaring in his right ear.

Joe pressed the button on his receiver.  He dialed quickly while glancing at one of his band posters hanging from the slanted ceiling.  Joe stared at the musicians leaning against a wall under a bridge.  

"Hello?", Lucy's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hi", Joe said sheepishly.

"Joe hows it going?  Are you comming down to the warehouse today?"

"Maybe later?", Joe said uncertain.

"Did you talk to Kento?", Lucy asked.

"I need to borrow the van."  I'm meeting him over at the cafe.", Joe stated.

"Oh.",  Lucy said squarely.

"I won't crash it Lucy.", Joe said as seriously as he could.

"Are you sure your ready, I could drop you off."

"How would I get back?  He rides, remember?"

"Oh", Lucy repeated herself.

"I guess I could work from home today.  You had better get him on board."

"Hey, I talk smooth.", Joe joked.

"Yea right." Lucy wasn't impressed.

"I'll see you in a few.", Joe said smiling.

"OK Filly we be happy to see you." Lucy said.  Her smile could be heard through the phone.

Joe hung up the phone and quickly put some sneakers on.   He husseled downstairs anctious to see Filly again.  His father was sitting in the living room with his checkbook and a calculator.  

"Hey Joe", His father said in a gravelly smokers voice.  "You owe me three hundred dollars. I'm sorry to ask now, but the taxes are due."

"No problem Dad.  I'll have it for you next week.", Joe stated.

"I need it tomorrow."

Joe began to wonder when he became more responsible than his dad.  If his dad drank his sorrows away less, perhaps he wouldn't need to lean on him.  Three hundred was so little nowadays,  maybe it would pay for one night at the bar.  Oh, Joe thought, his heart sank.  His dad was totally gone.  Joe felt anger building up in him.  Joe was glad it was time to leave.

"I might be able to get it tonight.", Joe lied.

Joe headed for the front door, frustrated he couldn't tell his dad how bright his future looked right now.  Joe felt a little lonely.

"Good night son.", His dad looked distant and heart broken.

Like his fury wasn't bad enough.  Joe's personal emotional roller coaster took a dip of guilt.
\chapter{}
Joe zipped his coat tight as he walked through the chilly evening.  He shuffled past a small strip of stores as he transversed the blocks to Lucy's house.  Joe thoughts wandered to Kento's experiance.  He worked on the final generation of general purpose computing chips at Charles Peterson United, before Morre's law broke down.  Joe had no idea what Morre's law was before it's end was widely predicted.  Anyone who followed business or science news quickly learned, learned the hard times were directly the fault of those ambitious projections.  It funny though, Joe thought, those same channels praised Gordon Moore just a few years ago.  If only they could fabricate chips beyond the safe harbor of a vacum.  Joe walked wide eyed thinking of the depth of their discovery.  He was in it now...

"Sir do you have a fifty..",  A strange mans voice called to Joe.

Joe looked, it was a homeless man hidden in shadow sitting beside the last store.  Perhaps he was squating in the dark boarded and abandoned 2 story house next door.  There was a conspiqous hole in the six foot fence between the properties.  The man looked clean but scruffy and old.  The reminants of his jacket and dress shoes and slacks looked worn 3 years to many.  

Joe thought, perhaps that was his house at one point.

Saddened Joe walked toward the man.  Making sure to keep himself in the light in case it as a trick.  Joe couldn't face his aunt if he got hurt in an attack.  Joe pulled out his wallet and handed the man a twenty and seventy dollar bill.  The man took the money and smiled graciously.

"Thank you. I can eat tomorrow."

"Every day counts", Joe said smiling.  Joe asked "What happened?"

"It's those Iranian bastards.", "They killed my son in the war.  They ruined me, our life.",  The man said.  Anger was changing the shape of his eyes.  "What do you care you look like you got easy.  You think this is easy?  Where was your family?  Huh?" 

The man began to stir and straiten like he might confront Joe.  Joe began to back away.  He turned his back on the man an hussled away, ignoring his furious rant.  That was a mistake, Joe thought.  Sobriety isn't always sanity.

Joe arrived at Lucy's in a another minute.  He opened the door and called inside. "Lucy you home."

A pair of small eyes peered around the corner.

"Did I see somthing?", Joe wondered aloud.

Joe heard a child laughing.

The eyes reapeared, disapeared just as quickly.

"What was that?  A troll?  A goblin?  A toad?", Joe mused as he walked inside.

More laughing.

"Boo", Finny jumped out.  

"aaahhhhh", Joe yelled "It's you Finny.  I was scared!"  

"No you weren't.", Finny laughed some more.

Joe walked over and picked Finny up kissing her on the cheek.

"Hi cutie."

"Hi, I missed you uncle Joe."

"I missed you too."

"Hi Joe", Lucy walked out in her nightgown.  Her form was accentuated by the silky nightware.  She pulled a tericloth robe over her shoulders hiding her breasts and slim waist.

Joe couldn't totally hide his subtle attraction to her.

"I'm doing laundry.", Lucy said.

"Oh right.", Joe turned away embarased by his own boyish ways.

Finny noticed all this going on from Joes hip and was delighted.  She was grinning from ear to ear.  "Joe can you stay and play."

Joe went to open his mouth but Lucy interupted.

"No honey, he has stuff he needs to do.", Lucy shot Joe a sly look.

Finny stuck her lip out and hugged Joe.  She looked him in the face.

"Mommy is right.  I have to meet another friend.  I promised him I'd play today."

"I don't call her mommy anymore."

Joe looked confused.

"I call her mom.",  "I'm a big girl." 

Joe thought about telling Lucy about the run in with the homeless man.  He decided against it.

Joe kissed her cheek and put her down.  Lucy grabbed the keys from the top of the night stand.  "Joe you know how weird this whole thing can get.  Be careful.  Don't just spill it."

Joe grinned. 

Lucy frowned.

"Bye kiddo.", Joe said.  

"Bye Uncle Joe.  We have to play sooon.",  Finny was restraining herself.

"I promise.",  Joe smiled back at them and walked out the door.

Joe walked toward the Team van.  Man, I have remember to date, Joe thought.  I'm turning into such a nerd.
\chapter{}
Joe noticed Kento's motorcycle as he pulled up the the cafe.  It would have been fluorescent, being bright yellow, were it not covered with scuff marks and dirt. It was a five year old touring style bike, looked a bit like a cruiser, but with a more hunched over position for the rider.  Joe couldn't help thinking Ken was worse off than he let on seeing the vehicles apparent mileage.  

Joe parked Lucy's van in front and walked inside.  The cafe was a diner converted into a coffee shop.  It was dimly lit and had comfortable mismatched chairs and couches scattered all around.  Joe tapped the screen on his arm computer three times and the clarks blinked the driving HUD off and a series of colored arrows pointed to every visible person in the room.  A small green triangle pointed to Kento's figure.

Joe smiled at a waitress as he walked toward the back of the cafe where kento was sitting.  Kento was tall and slender.  He had dirty blond short hair that he wore long in the back.  He was wearing loose blue and red clothing that looked a bit like silk and his collar was sticking up.  A slender arm band computer and a pair clarks were laying on the table.  Kento turned his head.

"Joe! Long time no see."

"Kento. You're fashion has improved.", Joe joked in a gravely voice.

"And you're mastery of expression in the English language has not.", Kento smiled.  

Joe pulled his clarks off.  He was blushing.

"So what's the new robot going to look like?  I heard on the net Cyborg wars might disallow spinners and wedges.  You'll need a more humanoid design."

"Where did you here that?", Joe's jaw hung as he mumbled.

"I have my sources."

"I have to kill you now.",  Joe smiled.  That is hardly my biggest secret, Joe thought.  "Nice computer."

"Oh yea a genuine unreported CPU perk."

"Figured you stole it."

"Hey I helped design the thing I should!", Kento was indignant.

"I guess I'm kind of lucky I don't think they'll have a waterproof case for out for another year.  Designed the prototype myself.",  Kento looked proud.  Perhaps dramatical so.

"Remember when you stole Baker's tire filling gage from auto shop?  He freaked out.  How many times a day did he say it was rare?", Joe said with a big grin.

"Yea that was nothing.  How about the time you wired the windshield washer pump to the interior light of that old Cadillac.", Kento retorted laughing.

"He was completely soaked." Joe was roaring with laugher.

"I thought that vein on his forehead would explode.", Kento tried to compose himself.

They both laughed for a minute. 

A young brunette waitress took their orders.  Joe ordered coffee, Kento ordered tea.

In a low voice Joe said, "Kento, I need your help.  My team is working on something."

"So you need robot help from the Kempo master.",  Kento was clearly still feeling silly.

Joe looked Kento in the eyes delay serious and whispered.  "We stole some nanites."

Kento chuckled in a loudish voice.  "Nanites?  So did Indonesia and the Philippines, big deal.  Don't look so serious..."

"Joe patiently waited for Kento to stop smiling.  He did.  Joe whispered, "Non-vacuum nanites."

Kentos smiling eyes straitened.  "They don't need a vacuum?  Not even temperature controlled?"

"Not only that.  They're blood nanites."

"What?", Kento sounded seriously surprised, he was looking around and whispering.  "They exist?"

"They were in me."

"In you?"

"Alot of them."

"How? Why? Joe this could be serious trouble.", kento's voice sounded different, more adult.

"If you want me to stop, I can.", Joe said.  What was Kento thinking?  Was he going to turn him in?  Perhaps he wasn't the same guy Joe went to school with.  Kento stared at Joe, eyes darting, mind racing.  

Kento's strait faced stare broke into a boyish grin.  Joe knew he was in.

"OK, How did you manage to get the one thing that Homeland security has effectively banned and every molecular physicist says is impossible for another ten years."

"I nearly died."

"That sounds about right."

"Well I destroyed my car.  It blew up.  I was almost dead.  My aunt is part of some project and injected them in me."

"Wow. Good thing you went to her hospital. When did this happen?", Kento was wide eyed.

Joe touched the emergency medical bracelet on his wrist.  He knew he would have to tell Kento, just not yet.  "It was about a three weeks ago."

"Can I see them?",  Kento inquired.

Joe decided to fill him in on the Aman situation. He told him about the friction between Aman and the rest of the team.  He expressed his fears about an ongoing Jihad. The waitress stopped at their table and dropped off their drinks.

"Don't worry.  I can run circles around a theoretical physicist."  

"I hope so.", Joe was sure he could, well pretty sure anyway.

"So are they in you right now?", Kento asked.

"I don't think so.  My aunt shut them off after she got a talking to.  I hid some blood." 

"Where?", Kento inquired.

"In my cell phone fuel cell."

"You slick bastard.",  Kento was grinning again.  He sipped his tea.  "You said you're aunt shut them off.  Have you turned them on again?  What exactly did they do?"

"We haven't turned them on yet.  We're not sure what they do.  They are definitely machines though."  

"How big are they?", Kento asked

"About one hundredth of a blood cell.", Joe answered.

"Wow, so..."

"Excuse me.", a girls voice asked.

Joe's heart jumped.  He turned his head and looked at the girl standing beside him.  She was about five foot six and had brown hair dyed blond with a blue streak.  She looked Indian.  Had she overheard?  What did she want.

"Are you Joe Vallone?", the girl asked with a with a weak Long Island accent.  She looked about sixteen.

"Maybe?", Joe choked a little.

"Well, she and I watch cyborg wars, and we always root for your team, and she likes you and thinks you are totally hot."

Joe looked over at her friend.  She was also about sixteen years old with strait black hair and looked halfway between Indian and oriental.  She covered her face.  Joe looked and was immediately felt attracted to the slender girl.  He felt goosebumps on his armhairs.  No, Joe thought she is way too young, at least mentally.

Kento was hunched back in his chair covering his mouth.  He was clearly laughing.  Joe was blushing.

The girl pushed a pen and pad in front of Joe and said, "Could you please, please sign this to Amy Sue from Joe Vallone."

"Uh OK", Joe grabbed the pen and signed the pad 'to Amy Sue from a completely embarased Joe Vallone'.

"Oh wow thank you so much, I can't believe you wrote her a personal message.  She's a chicken so here's her number in case you want to hang out or something, and I think you should because she is really nice."  The girl turned and said, "Oh and my name is Anna."  She smiled a broad smile at Joe and hurried back to her fetally positioned friend.

Joe looked mortified at Kento, he was laughing harder than ever.  "You always had a way with the ladies."  

Joe grimmiced. "You want to go to the shop tonight?", Joe asked changing the subject.

"Do I ever, I've been out of work for six months.  I'm going nuts.", Kento was still grinning.  "I don't know where it is so I'll have to follow you."

"No problem. It's on the north shore.", Joe replied.

"Actually, do mind if I drop the bike off at home?  It's getting pretty cold."

"No problem.", Joe replied.

Kento smiled at Joe.  Joe shook his head.  He wasn't going to live this down for a while.
\chapter{}
The sun was setting as Joe waited outside Kento's apartment building.  Joe watched nervously through the windshield of Nancy's van as a group of warmly dressed kids in their late teens and twenties, drank from bottles covered in paper bags.  Joe eyes danced between multi colored arrows indicating where each individual was and their direction and speed of movement.   The arrows where all pointed strait down, but Joe eyes would not be fooled if that changed.

A new color arrow appeared pointing towards the young men and Joe turned his head to include it in his view.  Kento opened the front door to the building and walked strait towards the youths.  One of the kids noticed his approach and alerted the others, their arrows stirred like warming molecules.  Kento also observed this and quickened his pace toward them.  Joe absent mindedly reached for the baseball bat he kept in the back seat in his old car.  Joe turned around and reached around the floor of the van for a weapon of some length.  He settled on a 2 ft socket extension jammed under a tool box.   I haven't seen my aunt for my clot shot yet, I can't get hit, he told himself.  I hope Kento can handle this, Joe confessed.  Joe leaned up and opened the door in one swift movement.  He looked up as his left foot hit the ground.  Kento was walking toward him, backwards.

"OK, thanks.  I owe you", Kento said to the kids.  The kids found this uproariously funny.  Kento turned and strutted toward the car.  Two of the larger young men waved.

Joe embarrassed sheepishly sat back down in the drivers seat.  Kento was kidding around.  Joe tried to subtlety wedge the 2 ft socket extension behind his seat as Kento got in the van.  Kento looked over and saw the weapon as he reached for his seat belt. 

"You thought I was going to fight them?", Kento looked amused.  

"Well, yea.", Joe said reluctantly.

"Those are guys from the neighborhood.", Kento said like a proud father.  "I thought them everything they know."  Kento observed Joe's frazzled look.  "You should come too Kempo too.  With your speed you could be very dangerous."

"It's not that simple.", Joe looked deeply distressed.

"It's no different than track.  You're strong and coordinated, it should be a breeze.",  Kento tried to sound reassuring.

Joe thought about how much he ached before he started running at school.  If he hadn't been a natural runner and athlete, he never could have succeeded at all.  He wondered how much faster and stronger he would have been without his weakness.  Right now Joe hated being alive.

"You always stepped up to fights but you don't finish them.  Why do you hold back?  You should be a natural.",  Kento said as a matter of fact.

Joe shot a look at Kento.  He was obviously angry.  Joe stuttered quietly, "I'll email Mark to be at shop."

Joe double tapped the LCD on his arm computer.   The Cube desktop returned in the center of his vision and Joe hand motioned to the email side and began to type in the air.

Kento sat in silence.  He watched Joe out of the corner of his eye.  In a few seconds Joe's rapid typing was complete.  He tapped his computer screen once again, and without saying a word, started the van and drove away.  Joe drove in silence for a few minutes, dwelling stonefaced on his misfortune.  I should talk to Kento, Joe thought, it's not really his fault.

While Joe as thinking about what to say, Kento spoke to Joe as he got on the Long Island Expressway.  "Joe I'm sorry, we're all different now.  We are different people now than we were then.  I was cocky bastard back then, I have learned alot."

"Kento that's not it. I'm different.", Joe looked sincere and remorseful.

"You always seemed like a normal guy to me.",  Kento said smiling.  

"I have a condition.", Joe mumbled.  Joe held his arm out to Kento, his medical wrist band dangling.

"What? You?", Kento asked.  Kento did not seem to understand that the medical bracelet was meant for him to read.

"Nope...", Joe's eyes darted to the side of the road.  His arm slowly reaching back for the steering wheel.

"What?"  Kento squinted as they rounded a bend.

An old pale blue Toyota was parked on the side of the road, it's parking lights where on and flames here flickering out of the open hood.  Two men looked scared and where yelling at each other.  A dark skinned man without a jacket lay on the edge of a bridge hill, cushioned only by decaying leaves.  He looked unconscious.

Joe suddenly flashed back to his accident.  "We're stopping.", he asserted.  Joe checked the rear view and mashed the brakes to pull over in time.

"Joe, I don't know if that's a good idea.", Kento said weakly.

"Call the cops.",  Joe didn't know if Kento had a phone, but he hoped so.

The van came to a halt.  Joe was reaching over to put the van in park.

"At least back 50 ft away so we can escape.", Kento said nodding eyebrows raised.

Joe looked at Kento with confusion.  He realized he hadn't even considered it could be a trap.  Joe tried to calculate the situation as he quickly backed the van up some distance.  No, Joe thought, we have to help in case it's real.  The view of jacket-less man was blocked by the burning car but still in his mind.

Joe slammed the gearshift into park.  Grabbing the keys, Joe followed Kento jog toward the two men.  Joe heard the two men yelling as they approached.  

"If your car wasn't such a piece of shit, I wouldn't need my phone.", The first man yelled at the second.

The second man, red in the face yelled back, "You forgot your phone you need to run for help!"

"He'll be dead if we don't find his pills!", the first man retorted.


"What happened?", Kento yelled as he jogged toward the lying man.  

"We think he's having a heart attack.", the first man said.  "When the car caught fire he grabbed his chest and fell over."

"Wave a car down.", Kento said looking strait at the second man.  "I don't have a phone."  Kento pointed at the first man, "You find his pills."

Joe jogged up behind Kento.  The man on the ground was in his late thirties and fit.  That's strange, Joe thought, he looks to young.  Joe crouched over the man and held his hand over his mouth.  "He's still breathing", Joe said.   

The man opened his eyes.  Joe saw him swing his arm up to grab his shoulder.  Joe rolled backwards over his shoulder and stood up as the man jumped to his feet.

"Still quick.",  Kento said to Joe grinning.

"You ain't given me no C.P.R.",  The dead man said to Joe.  He had a deep Spanish accent. "Give me the key to your ride."

Joe's heart was beating hard now as he crab walked for a better position.  He asessed the other two men.  They where of moderate build, in poor shape, and unarmed.  Kento stood strait and calm giving nothing away.  He was about two feet next to the pill man.   Joe smiled, they didn't have a chance.  "You and what army.",  Joe said in his usual gravelly deep voice.

Joe heard a loud whistle and turned his head toward it.  Six figures appeared at the top of the hill.  They were all larger than the other five men.

"That army", the dead man bragged grinning.  He threw his fist at Joe.

Joe easily leaned back avoiding the telegraphed fist.  Everything was moving in slow motion.  He saw Kento out the corner of his eye.  The Pill man lunged at Kento.  Kento moved aside and used his hip to pivot the man head first into the car's bumper.  

Joe saw movement out of his left eye.  The man must be throwing a second punch, Joe thought. As he swung his body the other way to avoid it. Joe felt time slow even more.  The adrenal gland in the top of his spine began pumping out chemicals.  Joe felt fury overcome him, as the adrenaline charged through his veins down his back and arms, small hairs standing up along the way.

Joe was pissed.  Really pissed.  You bastards, he thought, I won't die because I tried to help you.

Joe moon leaped backwards a step as he saw the phone man change direction and hurdle towards Kento looking at his comrade.  The dead man reached out some distance to hit Joe.  A wicked smile came across Joe's face, eyebrows pointing down and lips curling up.  Joe hunched down and spun on his right foot.  His left foot swung through the air.  First hovering fully extended just above the ground.  Eventually his foot pulled up and in as arched up through the air.  The heel of his right boot stuck the man in the temple.  Joe felt the dead mans head give as his roundhouse kick made contact.

His momentum not slowed by the mans skull, Joe pumped his right leg in to accelerate his rotation and jumped in the air.  He pulled his left boot up just in time to strike the mans head.  Blood spattered out the mans mouth as he and Joe fell to the ground.

Joe broke his fall with his bare hand on a patch of grass.  Joe felt the pressure as his hands absorbed his full momentum.  Joe feet cleared the man and landed beside him.  Joe pushed himself up onto his feet and looked around.  The men were running down the hill in slow motion.  They were mainly looking in Kento's direction as they ran, puffy winter jackets swinging.  Several of them had knives and threaded pipes brought to bare.

Joe turned toward Kento and saw the phone man lying atop the body of the pill man.  Joe smile turned crooked as he imagined the second man falling for exactly the same hip throw into the bumper.  Scanning the car, Joe saw somthing through the open door.  A bat tucked under the drivers seat of the burning car.  I'm not ready to die, he thought.

Joe hopped over the body of the victim and sprinted as only he could toward the side of the little blue car.  He reached in and grabbed the bat that must have been meant for him.  He spun to see the men closing in on the ever calm Kento.  Joe reached his right hand across his shoulder and double tapped his computer switching his clarks to human vector mode.  Meaningful arrows appeared pointed this way and that.  An arrow pointed strait down on the victim.

He wasn't getting up.

Joe swiftly crab-walked around the mob now stabbing and swinging at Kento.  He swung his aluminum bat full force at the biggest mans head.  The man's head gave but he didn't stumble.   He swung around wielding a knife and bleeding from the ear.  He started towards Joe as Joe backed away easily keeping the distance.  The men swung and stabbed at Joe trying to circle him, but Joe was quicker, backing off and maintaining a bubble with his bat.  

One of the men swung at Joe with a pipe.  Joe felt it tap his rib through his leather Jacket.  Joe suddenly realized his own mortality.  A single bruise could immobilize him for a week.  The adrenaline was beginning to wear off.  Joe scoped a clear path back towards the hill where it all started.  I have to get some distance, he thought, I'm going to get hit again.

Joe took a swing towards the man closest to the road forcing him back.  Joe sidestepped to his left and ran back towards the hill where it all started.  Joe looked at Kento dodging and weaving his assailants.  One of the three was laying motionless on the grass.  The other two looked tired and moved very slowly. 

Joe heard a horrible noise.  A series of rhythmic tire screeches and thumping.  Joe turned to ruckus as he ran to see an eighteen wheeler screeching to a halt on the opposite side of the road.  Two cars leaned on their horns and screeched around the huge truck at the last minute.  As the truck bounced one final time the door swung open.  At large hairy man hung out the door wielding a shotgun.

"What the Hell is going On HERE?", The man yelled in an ear-busting crescendo.  He pumped the shotgun, aimed it in air, and let one shot ring.   

Joe was dumbfounded, he stopped running and turned to see the distance he had put between him and his attackers.  They had stopped running and turned as well.  Looks like they don't know what to do, Joe thought.  Neither do I.

"Let's go man.", one of the men yelled turned running.

"Cummon lets get out of here.  He's crazy man.", another ran toward the trees.

"Were gone man.", another turned and ran for the hill.

The trucker calmly surveyed the fleeing assailants from the perch of his trucks cab. Joe looked at Kento and Kento shrugged.  Joe and Kento walked back toward the van. stepping over the unconscious bodies of their felled enemies.  Joe looked back to the trucker to yell in thanks and saw him close his door, apparently satisfied.  Joe yelled thank you to the trucker but he was already pulling back into traffic.  He didn't seem to hear.

Joe grabbed Lucy's keys from his pocket and then noticed the gravel indents in his hands from his fall.  His hands did not bruise this time.  Joe pulled his shirt up as he walked he looked at the rib grazed with the pipe.  No bruise there either.  Joe sighed. as he opened the van's door.

Joe looked at Kento as he closed his door.  "I thought you had a cell phone.  I was crazy to rush in there.", Joe said apologetically.  

"Are you all right?  You were great back there.  We had them dead to rights.",  Kento smiled.

"It was stupid.  I got mad, stopped thinking.",  Joe wasn't smiling.  He started the van.

"You had total control.  You had them running in circles.", Kento was recalling the fray.

"I could have been killed.",  Joe said distracted, anxious to get away from the scene. Joe put the van in gear and inched up to merge into traffic.  He looked over his shoulder, then looked Kento right in the eye.  "I'm a hemophiliac.  We probably should have called the cops.",  Joe started pulling away.

"I did.", Kento said, looking at Joe, "They never came."
\chapter{}
Mark was new to the drive to beat the other team, before joining the A-team that is.  Rewriting the small driver to read their robots gyroscopes was not about self image or pride.  He programmed to expand his understanding of accomplishment, not for the accomplishment it's self.  Competition had always seemed a bit barbaric to Mark.  He had lead a life of moral privilege, and desired to continue it as long as he could.

His mind began to wander off his task.  He much preferred the smell of incense over machine oil.  The stew of olfactory chemicals seemed to pull him from inner peace.  He loved his work with the A-team, but he did it for the experience and money, not for emotional stimulation.  Mark dwelled on his childhood vacations in India.  His family could create a whole other world, and Mark would use to escape and learn about himself.   

When did Aman start trying to beat me, Mark thought.  When did I indicate to him that I would crush, insult, degrade, or otherwise ostracize him if I activate them first. Perhaps Joe is right, Mark thought.  What hell keeps a man focused for three days strait?  

Mark glanced over at Aman's now scraggy beard.  He was hunched over his borrowed computer terminal and several pads of paper.  Mark wanted to contribute more to the process, but every time he tried to cooperate with Aman he grew impatient.  I need to get another one of those microscopes, Mark thought.   He wished his cousin would rest and give him a shot at cracking the nanites.

With his brain sufficiently relaxed from his mental break, Mark walked to the cyborgs naked base.  The base consisted of to tank style treads and a mess of wires, batteries and motors.  He flipped a switch in the mess of wires and the base sprung to life.  It wiggled left, right and left again to indicate that all as well.  Mark walked behind his bench and typed a command at a strange blinking prompt on his screen.  The base began traveling around a blocked off area in a seeming random fashion.  Printing a matching pair of fractional decimals on the screen with each turn.  

As the routine drew to an end, Mark felt his spirit lift.  He had done it.  Two gyroscopes down, one hydraulic to go.  Mark couldn't hold back the grin.

Joe and a strange skinny man burst in the door.  Mark felt the cold draft as the wind swung the door shut.  So this must be the chip guy, Mark thought.

"Joe, I see you have brought the man with the power.",  Mark said in an announcer voice with little accent.  Mark shuffled to the door, tying to hide his excitement from Aman.

"Mark, meet Kento.", Joe grumbled in his usual deep voice.

"Nice to meet you", Kento spoke as if on a job interview.  He reached out to shake Marks hand.

Mark shook his hand.  He seems well adjusted, Mark thought.  He seems confidant.  If there were such a thing a chi, he'd be brewing with it.

"Joe I got the gyroscopes programmed.",  Mark felt the grin returning to his face.

"You have to see this.",  Joe cut mark off.  He started walking toward his workstation.

The smile lept off Marks face.  Was Joe obsessed with the nanites as well?  Mark didn't think he could cope with any more super competitive people.  His internal emotional damage control as already at full throttle. 

Joe saw the look on Marks face.  "We were attacked."

"Holy crap again.  It's getting crazy out there.  People are so desperate.  What the hell do they do with our money?",  Mark stumbled.  What was I thinking.  Joe doesn't want to beat me.  I must be losing control.  Mark heard a clang as Aman got up.  He was staring at them.  He walked toward the group.

Mark felt embarrassed, he distraction damaged his concern for Joe.  "Are you you guys OK?"

"Yea.",  Joe mumbled.

"I called the police,  but they never came.", Kento stated.

"They may come now.", Aman stated, almost unintelligible between his thick accent and his scratchy voice.

"I doubt it.", Kento looked somber.  "One of my students is jailed for murder in a fight the police never responded to.  His only crime was effectivly defending himself.  The prosecutor insisted his fleeing the scene proved intent.  None of us make the mistake of subscribing to a cell service anymore.  I use disposables and pay with cash."  He pulled a cell phone the and separated fuel cell from his pocket.  He tossed them in a nearby garbage can.

"You are smarter than these two.", Aman said with as little scorn as he could muster.

Joe stopped typing into the keyboard on his desktop computer, and stared Aman in the eye.  "What'd you say?"

Oh shit, Mark thought here it comes.  Mark went to say something, but Kento jumped in first.

"He's right Joe.", Kento said coolly.  "You act with too much haste.  Control your temper and revert your anger into improving your restraint.  Victory is in the mind."

He's pretty cool, Mark thought.  I think I like this guy.

Joe looked surprised and defeated, his shoulders slumped.  He turned and typed a few more keystrokes.  His monitor blinked and the roadside battle from his clark-eye-view camera began.

The men all watched with rapt attention.  

Kento's words rang in Marks head as he watched the fight.  I wonder if Kento knows about Joe's disease.  He watched Aman out of the corner of his eye.  I guess they will have to find out if we ever want to use these things.  "Joe you are so quick, we should put this to a hyperbeat song. All I see are those guys reacting."

"I'ts four frames a second.", Joe said. "See Kento's pile of bodies."

The truck screamed into view, and the trucker fired his gun.  The men ran off.

"Wow", Mark's mouth was open.  Mark reached over Joe and paused the recording.  He shuttled backward until the trucker was in plain view.  "Wow what a great guy.  Shotgun trucker.", Mark paused looking lost in thought. "Send me this video."

"OK", Joe said staring at the image of the mystery trucker.

Aman walked away from Joe's bench and toward his messy pile of papers and the microscope.  Kento looked in his direction and then followed him.  Mark caught Aman glancing over at their absent gaze.  He can't think we are watching him.  Mark turned to Joe, "Now, will you checkout the gyroscopes I just hooked up?", Mark purposefully sounded a little childish.

"Yea OK.  I should work.",  Joe absentmindedly uttered.

They shuffled over toward the pen containing the robot base.  Mark hit a couple of keys beginning the sequence once again.  Mark strained to hear the conversation across the shop over the whining motors.  The routine stopped, leaving Mark with nothing to say.  Mark was relieved when Joe chimed in.

"I have an idea.",  Joe said, looking tired.

"OK?", Mark said.

"How about a second pair of arms?",  Joe hopefully suggested.

"What about regulations?", Mark said.  "Aren't we supposed to be getting closer to a human form?  Isn't that the point of the new rules?"

"I think it's legal." Joe said.  "The rules say only human style arms, and tracks or wheels for feet."

"So it's legit because it's a human part, there are just more of them.", Mark sounded excited, "Joe you're a genius.  Two could grapple and two could attack!  But what if they disqualify us?"

"We can make them detachable.",  Joe seemed to be expecting that.

Marks brain was whizzing with possible attachment points and remote control changes when Aman passed by.  Mark was so distracted he was briefly shocked by Amans proximity.

"I'm going home, Robert's in charge.", Aman mumbled in poor English to Mark. He was visibly exhausted.  He went to the back of the shop to get his coat and keys.  Kento was reading through Aman's numerous disorganized notes.  

Aman has completely lost it, Mark thought.  He's imagining people.  I guess sooner or later he had to give up.  He has been going for 3 days strait.  Mark and Joe walked toward Kento as Mark pondered Aman's strange statement.

They cautiously slid over to Kento, afraid to encourage further domination of the microscope and ultrasound panel.  They looked over Kento's shoulder at Aman's cryptic notes at they heard him close the door.

"I think, Aman is losing it.",  Mark said with some uncertainty, "He was talking about somebody named Bob."

"Oh that's me.", Kento sounded amused.  "I got the name in high school."

"Robert?" Oh that was dumb, Mark thought.

"The dumb kids could say Kempo", Joe smiled, "I think they thought they were clever."

"Oh.", Mark sounded relieved, "So what did they call Joe?"  Joe grimaced, and Kento smiled.

"You don't want to know.", Kento grinned looking at Joe.

Joe stared Kento dead with his eyes, and Mark couldn't help but smile too.
\chapter{}
Nathen Jones, hated groups trips to the gym.  He appreciated the virtues of a good work out, but that's not what usually happened. He and several of his coworkers would stand around and patiently wait for the menace to finish his work out.  The menace would boast and brag as he benched the same hundered twenty pounds as he did every week.  Noone dared best him in athletics, so the whole thing was a giant waste of time for the larger men like Nathen.

After the usual awkard shower experiance, the men would silently reflect on the egotism that ruined their lives 6 days a week.  Scott Conner, the menace, insisted on being naked in the locker room as long as possible.  Strutting around and standing in a pose that seemed almost meant to jut his flopping member further forward than anything attached to his body could be.

The the other men in MI Robotics seemed to suspect homosexuality, but Nathen knew better.  Scott did this to intimidate and unnerve the other men.  Surprise, shock and deprevation, presented the best opportunities to instill fear and loyalty in other men.  The menace shouldn't need time in the service to recognise singluar aspect of surprise. Yet, while continully unerved, nobody was caught off gaurd any more.

Nathan and the other men followed Scott to the check out counter at the base gym.  Scott bragged to the young woman solder manning the desk. 

"Two hundred and sixty pounds. That's how much I could bench in the service days.", he said in a southern drawl.  He murmurred, "If I didn't spend so much time in pointless meetings I'd be bettering that right now."

"Yes sir.", the woman stated coldly.

"You know my company is very important to the service.  We have brokered over 12 major contracts and earned the marines 14 billion in patent revenue alone."

"Of course sir.", The engaged woman replied.

Scott continued as the men dropped their towels in desk mounted hamper.  "That uniform you're wearing was paid for by one of MIR's carbon catylist patents.  You'd be naked without us."

Nathen grimmaced.  Only a civilian could get away with such talk.

"Thank you sir.", the belegered woman remained resolve.

"Well I have to go chat with the joint chiefs", Scott said with a twang.  "I hope we can talk again soon."  Scott quickly walked away.  

Nathen missed his daughters and longed to be home.  After a sleepy morning of Saturday cartoons, they would be playing outside with the neighbors or their mother.  If he was back home in Chicago, they would be throwing snowballs or making snow angels.  Nathan was lost in thought as he walked.

"Ciselly, you and Laurance go to the shop and payrole the new design from DCR.  Give Michaels a call and get his ass over here.  Jones you're with me for the chiefs."

"Yes sir, we're on it", Ciselly said sounding releaved.  They immediatly walked toward the parking lot.

"Jones go change and meet me at at thirteen hundred hours and fourty five at their office."

"Yes sir", Nathen stated weakly.

Nathen walked toward his temporary quarters.  When he arrived he changed into formal business wear.  Nathen looked at his watch and decided that he had time to call his wife.  He walked to the nightstand and dialed the phone.  As the phone he stared out the window at the base as it rang.  The machine picked up and four voices sequentially answered.

"Hi you have reached Luise, Emmly, Malinda, and Nathen.  Were not here right now, but please say whatever you like at the beep."

"Hi everybody, I miss you.  I'll call you again tonight.  Somthing came up at work and I won't be home tonight. I'm going to try for tommorow.  Hope you're having fun.",  Nathen did his best not to sound as disapointed as he was.  He was mostly successful.

Nathen hurried out of the apartment to meet Scott at the chiefs office.  Nathen arrived and Scott was waiting.  He was standing in the back of the room reading a legal sized paper.  The spacious waiting room was empty other than the two men.  Scott looked angry.  He walked to Nathen's side and talked to him quietly as they waited. Scott moved his face as close to Nathen's as he could without touching it.

"This breach is you're responsiblity.  This is by far our most ambisious project and you're security framework sucks.  If the chiefs realize how poor you're contingency plan is there wil be hell to pay.."

"But sir I had advised that you initially...", Nathen responded weakly..

"When I want to hear what you think, I will ask.  Now I have to think for you, and who's fault is that.",  Scott's growing vocal anger worsened his now almost unintlligable accent.

"Yes sir", Nathen automaticly repressed his anger and desire to speak.

"I expect that a suffeciently effective quaritine program is ready in case the chiefs so order it."

"Yes sir", Nathen grew more angry every second he couldn't wipe Scott's spittle off his face.  His distant hand gripped into a fist.

"Sir the chiefs will see you now.", a womans voice drifted in from the door to the waiting room.

Scott moved naturally away from Nathen changing to a broad smile, "Thank you mam." He began to walk toward the large double doors.

The office was comfortable and sparce.  It was decorated with wood furniture and moderate colors.  Two large american flags addorned the far wall.  Four men in uniform were waiting at the oppisite side of a large wood table.  As Nathen entered the room the woman closed the door behind him.  

One of the chiefs looked to Scott, "Counsel Conner, what brings you here?"

Scott straitened and did his best to look stateful.  "Hello generals.  MIR has a problem."

"Weren't you starting new trials systems in New York?", The last general asked.

"Yes, a civilian gained conneciousness durring an unplanned trial."

"Unplanned?",  The first general asked.

"His aunt, a doctor, used the oxygen nanites durring an emergency procedure."

There was a brief pause, "So you think he knows what happened?", a general in the center asked.

"We don't know, MIR does not have those resources.", Scott admited grudgningly.

"How long was he awake?", The youngest General asked.

"About a half an hour according to the doctor in question."

"We should not act with haste.", The oldest middle right general said. "This sounds like a non-detremental event."

"We are deeply concerned about the breech.  We do know the man has a technical mind.  There is the remote possiblity he understands what was done to him."

"So we may need to discredit him.", The last general asked.

"Prepare a varity of legal actions against him, council.  But do not act until we can confirm carnal knowladge.", The first general suggested.

"Your permission to treat the subject as a enemy combatant.", Conner stated almost robotic like.  "We would be able to avoid spreading the leak on detention"

"Make sure to focus the charges on somthing else.  Or he may spread the contamination on the way to guantanimo."

"We will prepare a case.  I am anticipating your results."

Nathen was not shocked at what he heard.  He even understood the need.  He was appauled tough.  It was shameful how depraved and indifferent the world had become.  Damn them all for not helping America isolate their enemies.  How many innocents needed their lives disrupted or destroyed, because their was no cooperation to be had.  
\chapter{}
Mark's Toyota was sputtering again.  Why did I have to buy a Japanese car, Mark thought.  At least it's not German.  It's cheaper to get the broken piece referbished while you wait than buy new one.  My dad is livid about the cost of parts for his beamer.

Mark scanned the the parking lot as he aproached it.  He noticed the van was gone but it looked as if a light might be on inside.   Mark pulled the sputtering Toyota over.  He watched the distant activity light on the alarm as he opened the gate.  It failed to blink as he pushed.  Sombody forgot to shut the lights off and to turn the alarm.  Aman went home late last night and his car wasn't here so he couldn't be back yet could he?  There's no way Joe slipped in, he doesn't do mornings, then again neither do I.

Mark pulled his car inside and hurried to the door.  It swung open as he pulled.

"Damn", Mark said aloud.  Frustrated with sombodys lack of care.  

Mark's optic nerve flickered with movement.  He look to his side and nearly jumped out of his skin.  Kento was sitting on the floor indian style with his shirt off.  He was wirey and slim.  He looked powerful despite his light frame.

"Hello", Kento said in a matter of fact fashion.

"Wow, oh, hi.", Marks heart was pounding.  "You still here?  Did you sleep?"

"For about 4 hours on the cot",  Kento said.  "I was just finishing my morning forms."

"K.",  Mark was returning to his groggy morning mode.  "Are you hungry?"

"Nope.  Joe and I ordered in last night.  I saved some rice for breakfast.", Kento sounded awake.  He began to stand up and grabbed his shirt.

"Right, rice for breakfast.  I prefer doughnuts myself.", Mark was amused.  "Did you decipher Aman's notes?"

"Not exactly, but I've done one step better.", Kento donned his shirt while he talked.  Kento walked to the microscope.  Take a look at the two molecules I have focused on.  Kento pointed at the Microscope.

Mark was really excited, but he tried not to act to childish.  He looked at the screen on the side of the microscope.  There were two blobs with a few triangles sticking out of the blobs pointed here and there.  The larger blob on the left was brown.  The one on the right was alternating between blue, green, and red on the edges.  The triangles on the right blob were matching colors while triangles on the larger lefthand blob were seemingly random.

Kento reached down and pressed a play shaped button on an ajacent touch screen.  The blobs started shimmering and wiggling.

"See the blob on the right, that is a simple sugar.",  Kento spoke simply.

The image suddenly zoomed out and sevral more distant glucose molecule blobs were visable.  Then a number blinked into life at the top of the screen and the shimmering slowed to a crawl.

"I slowed it here so you can see the whole thing happen.", Kento was grinning.

Suddenly the triangles in a small section of the brown blob appeared to apear and disapear.  A nearby glucose molecule snapped into the side of the giant brown blob.  Suddenly the triangles stopped shifting, then moved again and then stopped.  They waited for a few seconds and then the glucose molecule was sucked violently into the big blob.  It looked positivly mechanical.

Mark started to understand what he was looking at. "Did the nanite just eat that sugar?"

"It sure did.",  Kento said.

"So you turned it on?", Mark asked?

"Nope, it does it on it's own.  About ten times a day per nanite.  I'm going to need a new set of heads for the microscope.  I had it scanning constantly all night.  The nanites are huge compared to a single molecule."

"Wow.", Mark was truly impressed.  "Does it do anything else?"

"Not yet", Kento lamented, "But this is definatly signifigant."  

"Why?",  Marks brain was moving quickly.

"It means these nanites were meant to run indefinatly.", Kento looked somber.

"...and...", Mark was trying to think why he would nanites to run indefinatly.

"Not exactly the one time use emergancy oxygen suppliers they appeared to be in the hospital.", Kento was speaking patiently.

Mark was frustrtated with his own slow responses.  I'm not awake. "I think I need some tea.", Mark uttered aloud.

"How long can you swim under water if you don't need to breath?", Kento said "How much faster can you run if your heartrate accelerates half as fast?"

Mark looked a little afraid.

Kento looking a bit mad looked Mark in the eyes.  "How long can you be dead before it actually starts to hurt you?"

"Holy crap.", Mark's jaw was open.

"Well said", Kento turned to stare out the window.

They both stared into space for a while.  Shocked by the enormity of Joe's prize from his trip to hell and back.

Mark walked over to the electric teapot and filled it with water.  He focused on the simple task of preparing a mug while the back of his mind processesed the implications of such a find.

"Kento", Mark half shouted across the shop.  "You know whoever this belongs to is going to figure out we have it, soon or later."

Kento paused and said, "Mark, somthing this important can belong to noone.  We are all surely damned."

The door burst open as Lucy and Joe, and Finny shuffled inside.  Joe looked positivly catatonic.  But Nancy and her daughter seemed chipper and alive.

"Kento whats up.",  Lucy asked affectionatly.  She walked over to Kento and gave him a hug.  "You smell.", Nancy grinned.

"What kind of workshop doesn't have a hot shower?", Kento smiled.

"Yea you smell.", Finny chimed in.

Kento looked from side to side, pretentding he did know she was talking to him.

"Hey Joe" Kento yelled.  "You look like you need some coffee."

"uhhhhhhh.", Joe responded.  He trudged toward the coffee machine.  

Mark looking for somthing to do and began to prepare some coffee for Joe.  He was still reeling, thinking about whoever these nanites belonged to.  They would come looking for them.  What was Joe's aunt mixed up in.  What kind of shadowy underworld figures could sneak somthing this advanced around under the govermnents nose in a hospital none the less?

Mark watched as Lucy busied herself settling Angie into her play area.  I don't think I could handle that kind of responsibilty, he thought as he poured hot water in his mug.  He absent-mindedly grabbed a teabag out of it's box next to the kettle.

Lucy has got to see the fight, Mark thought.  Finally Mark had thought of somthing to do other than dwell on his immanant demise.  He walked over to Lucy.

"Did Joe tell you he and Kento were attacked?", Mark asked.

"Reluctantly yes.  I heard he almost got my van stolen.", Lucy did not sound amused.

"I have it on video.", Mark grinned.  "He was amazing."

"OK.", Lucy sighed. "Lets see it."

She followed Mark over to his workstation by the cyborg base.  He played the video for her, Mark smiled and grimiced but Lucy just kept a strait face.

At the end of the video, Lucy looked perplexed.

Mark, unsure, asked, "What did you think?"

"I think I know that guy."  

"The victim?", Mark was confused.

"The trucker.", Lucy responded.

"From where?  We have to thank this guy."

"I don't know.", Lucy was lost in thought.

Mark rewound the the video and stopped it on the best shot of the truckers face.  They both stared for a minute.

Mark broke the silence, "Kento found somthing out about the nanites last night."  

"Really.", Lucy seemed interested.

"They eat.", Mark said proudly.

"What?" Lucy asked.

"Glucose.", Mark said.

"He turned them on?", Lucy asked.

"Nope."

"Wow.", She still looked perplexed over the face of the trucker.

"Hey guys come over here.", Kento shouted.  "I need your input."

Joe strutted over in a fasion that convinced Mark that his coffee cup was actually holding him up.  Lucy lead the way as Mark followed. 
"For Joe and Lucy, we now have reason to believe that the nanites never actually power down." Kento said in a business like fashion. "The nanites continually feed on nearby glucose, a superflous funtion for machines meant to fail in a short time.  I have come to believe that these machines have been made with the intention of enhancing a human to give them super strength and endurance.  Sombody very powerful is behind the devlopment of these machines to keep them a secret throughout their develepment, and we are now racing the clock with our very lives."

"Great.", Joe said sarcastily.

Mark cracked a smile.  You have to love Joe's style.

"If we destroy all samples and data, we may have a chance at creating plausable deniability.  We would have to continue our lives as if we never encountered these.  Any chance we had of working in any kind of legitmate nanoresearch is gone."

"Fine with me", Lucy smiled.

"If we choose to continue down our current path, we must expidite and accelerate the discovery process as fast as we can.  Ultimatly, only instant simoltanous disclosure of funtioning plans in the very near future will protect us from swift extermination.", Kento eyes bugged a bit and he squinted.

Huh, terrorists aren't going to come crashing through the door in the next five minutes, Mark thought.  "Kento you've gone off the deep end.  I know sombody would be pissed about the reproduction of these things, but we're just looking, and how would they know."

"So you think we should try to reproduce these.", Kento said deadly serious.  "This is a one way fork in the road, we must make right now.  Your whole life will be very different from here on in if we continue.", Kentos voice was soothing and very powerful.

Even Finny stopped playing and looked on.

"So you think our future depends on ending this here.", Mark stated.  Mark hated the idea of stopping, but the whole ruined life thing was very compelling.  I guess Kento read me right, I don't really care what the future holds if I have to let this go.

Kento turned to Lucy, "Are you prepared to give up your daughter?  To go to jail and not see her?  To run from sombody every day for the rest of your life."

Lucy looked to her daughter, to reasure her.   Finny didn't look upset, trusting her mother completely.  Lucy didn't answer.

"How about you Joe? Aman is right, this is no game."

Joe tired eyes looked more open now.  He paused and said, "I chose when I took them."

That's what Mark always liked about Joe, he defenatly knew himself.

"What about Aman?", Joe asked, "Can we trust him?"

"I don't know.", Kento seemed sincere. "He is very angry."

No way am I letting them speak for Aman.  "He has been through enough terrible shit.", Mark looked surprised he even spoke.

Everybody turned and stared at Mark.  Mark hated the idea speaking for Aman when he wasn't present.  He stood there silent, looking back at everyone.  Aman wouldn't want them to know.  Joe doesn't need defending, he'd always choose the adventure.  I don't know Kento.  Oh wait damnit, I don't have a choise do I.  They need to know everything.  Lucy and Finny need to know everything.

Mark went to open his mouth but nothing came out.
\chapter{}
Nathen dwelled on the Chief's words. "confirm carnal knowledge."  Those seemed to fit with Scott's version of what happened in the meeting.  Now Nathen needed to test their new legal loophole against the spirit of the chief's words.

Actually technically they weren't going against orders, since technically they weren't enlisted or contracted to do any of this.  But to be safe, Scott wanted yet another level of protection for MIR and mainly himself.  Nathen was expected to use an unrelated violation of protocol between a general and Homeland Security's intelligence to confirm the state of Vallone's net search in a round about sort of way.  Sort of a bureaucratic blackmail.

It really was a beautiful manipulation legally speaking.  The system is so inefficient, Nathen thought, It's time for the Pentagon to finally acknowledge the truth.  MIR's specialists are just better equipped at modern warfare.  In the age of the nanite, troops were never more effective than the nanites defending them.  Soldiers are for show, it's the machines that do the work.  No MIR, no machines, no more effective US defense against global terrorism.

He squinted to see time on his watch in the darkened makeshift office.  Nathen picked up the phone and dialed the chief of military cybercrimes division of Homeland Security.  The phone rang three times and he heard a young man with a squeaky voice answer the phone.

"Hello, cyber-ferrensics, chiefs office, Lieutenant Douglas Franklin speaking."

"Hello, Lieutenant Franklin, I am Nathan Jones, core operations supervisor at Municipal Integrated Robotics, I need to speak to the Chief.", Nathan said, knowing that would be impossible.

"What is this in regards to..", 

"Security Protocol 5b-42.6.  I am requesting a secondary review of procedure H on Joeseph Vallone."

"Please hold.", the squeaky man uttered.  The phone went silent.

One minute later, "What case was procedure Hanna being reviewed for, and under who's authority?"

"The authority of the joint chiefs...", Nathan said with certainty.  That as the beauty of it, Nathan thought.  Done in by their own hand with their own authority.  It suited them to drown in their own legal mire.

"Please wait, while I verify MIR's security status and lock down your location."

Nathan heard some intermittent rustling and tapping on the other side of the phone.  "According to our records, Vallone has been handled appropriately for a low confidence status."

So Intelligence thought Mr Vallone was no risk.  It won't be so easy to convince Scott, he thought.

"So you're certain all transmission types are covered?"

"Sir, I need you to call back on a secure line to tell you that."

Nathan was suddenly flush,  "I thought you told me that Vallone was a low risk."

"Yes sir", uttered the nervous Franklin.

"Then what is the problem?,  What could possibly require a secure line?",  Jones felt his pulse race as he imagined his conversation with Scott about this.

"Sir, I can only grant you the grade status of the case under that security protocol.  You need to be in the secure grid to receive any further detail on that case."

"I know what you are doing.", Nathan's voice began to raise, "you're hiding something."  Nathan words were a bluff but his tone was fueled with fear.

"Sir, I will be filing a complaint about this, If you do not cease your accusations immediately!", the lieutenant spoke with a new vigor, but still squeaked.

"Then why not tell me now, you know that you'll have to soon, despite your protests.", Nathan was sinking fast, this was not in his plan.

"Sir, use of the security grid is in place for a reason as is the 5b request for case status.  Your lack of respect for procedure shows a clear lack of understanding of the need for accountability or the sensitivity of the information involved.", Lieutenant Franklin's tone leveled off.

"Goodbye Lieutenant, I will remember this gross lack of judgment.", Nathan was angry about being out-argued. 

"Goodbye sir.", Franklin hung up the phone.

Nathan began to rapidly sift through his papers, I need some good news.  I can't face Scott with the minimum acomplishment.  I need more. He suddenly stopped at a folder marked "Dr. Teressa Graceland" with red ink.  We can't be sure without state of the investigation.   I'll force her hand.  I get her to arrange a meeting with Vallone.  One interview and we'll able to hold him.  Nathan began to smile.  He wedged the phone between his shoulder and chin and dialed.  

He tapped a pen nervously on the desk as the phone rang.

"Hello, intensive care and radiology", an annoyed woman answered the phone.

"Dr. Graceland please, it's urgent." 

"It's always urgent from that area code, many I ask who's calling?", now the woman sounded very annoyed and a bit sassy.

"This is Nathan Jones from MIR.."

"Please hold.", the woman put him on hold before he could finish talking.

Nathan ran through his script of the conversation.  He was tapping his pen faster now.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Graceland, this is councilor Nathan Jones from MIR.  I believe you already know my superior, council Conner."

"Yes, how may I help you, council?", Teressa inquired.

"I need to set up an interview with you and you're nephew, Joe Vallone.", Nathan stated plainly.

"Out of the question.", Dr. Graceland said swiftly.  "He has nothing to do with the administration of the nanites.  My report should illustrate that."  

She is very defensive, Perhaps she's hiding somthing.  Nathen slowly cracked a crooked smile.  "I don't believe that we have a choice doctor.  National security is at stake." Nathan was grinning.

"I will not submit him to any interviews.  He was mostly dead when they were activated.  He is not a terrorist, he is a hemophiliac, and that is the end of it."

"If you prefer we can begin with you.", Nathan asked.  Nathen had an idea, we don't need Joe, he thought.  I had better keep her going or I'll look weak.

Teressa began fume, "Why don't you end with me instead.  He knows nothing about what was done to him."

"So you say.  You forget the needs of the people around you.  You, your hospital, MIR,  and Homeland Security have specific interests that this information does not come out yet.  Did you forget the waivers and contracts you signed?  Did you not apply for security clearance just to be a part of this project?  Your lack of respect for procedure shows a clear lack of understanding of the need for accountability or the sensitivity of the information involved."

Nathen paused, but heard nothing but breathing on the phone.  "I would like to meet you both tommorrow."

"I am in surgary all this week.  The first time I can meet you is next Wednesday.", Teressa sounded exasperated.

"That is not acceptable.", Nathen souned cold.  His confidence was growing.

"Fine, I am out of the study.  I'll turn in my withdrawal papers tomorrow."

No wait, I can't let her out of that contract, not yet.  Nathen felt his desperation growing and his toes curl, I have to take control. "We can do without Joe for Wednesday."

Dr Graceland held the line.

"I'll need all your trial data for this quarter as well, I'll meet you at eleven hundred hours, before you're shift begins.", Nathan's voice revealed little emotion.  Finally a day off, he thought.  Scott will have to appreciate my initiative.

Nathan heard a man's voice across the phone.  "Dr Graceland, you're needed in ER now."

"Good bye Council Jones. I must go now.", Teressa sounded cold.  She hung up the phone before he could respond.

Just wait till Wednesday he thought. Nathen cracked a smile.
\chapter{}
Lucy was miffed.

Where the hell is Mark?  He is completely focused on those nanites.  He has huge dreams, but he needs to think more about the now.  He's not all that bad, he'll be a money making machine one day when he gets more focused!  Right now he's all id, off this way and that, completely unfocused and inconsiderate.

"What is he thinking?",  Lucy asked aloud to Joe.  "You're here, still fixing the borg an hour before we're live and he's nowhere to be seen!"

Joe looked up from the a mass of wires inside the cyborgs head he was fiddling with.  He looked at Lucy blankly and shrugged his shoulders, "Ehh he's Mark."  Joe looked longer at Lucy trying to read her.  

"You need to worry more.", Lucy uttered.

"I'll finish it.", Joe looked her in the eye as he talked.

"He still need to control the arms!", Lucy was feeding her own remorse.

Joe grinned, "You can do it."

"Oh real funny.  I'll probably rip one arm off with the other."

"They love that stuff.", Joe was still grinning.

Lucy stomped up the aisle past the other teams noisy repair cubicles in the back room of the studio.  She adjusted her tight Team A shirt so the logo was strait.  She had reluctantly agreed to show off her breasts, for A team publicity.  Apparently it worked, she always had lots of cheers and fan mail.  Pigs!

I suppose I understand why Mark is so interested in the nanites.  Holding the fate of the world must sound great to him.  But I wish they had thought more about me.  That's why I'm really angry right now.  I had the chance to build an empire here, and they blew it.  I have a daughter, I don't want her to have to live without me.  They can't understand that.

I guess I might just be being selfish, she thought.  Joe would have died from that crash.  I would have done the same thing his Aunt did in a heartbeat.   How did she get involved in this web of lies?   She's a practical woman.  She must have seen the damage this kind of work could do to her successful life.  I guess her life seemed less meaningful after her sister died.  It's funny how much Joe's father and Teressa have changed since I've known them.

Lucy pushed open the fire door leading to parking lot.  Holding it open, she paused, staring outside in to the wintry gloom.  Lucy squinted at a car coming around the bend through her foggy breath.  Suddenly she heard a voice behind her.

"Lucy?", a voice asked.

Lucy jumped away from the voice, turning around.

"Sorry.", it was Kento. 

"That's OK.", Lucy said catching her breath, "I was lost in thought."

"You thinking about what I said in the shop?", Kento asked in a pensive tone.

Lucy paused, "I've realized that Teressa saw that this was bigger and more important than her.  I definitely know it's bigger than me, I just don't know if I care."

Kento looked at her, attentive but unemotional.  He said nothing.

Lucy was frustrated.  He doesn't understand, she thought.  "Kento... my daughter,  I can't land myself in jail.  I don't have a lawyer.  This isn't a game.  How long have we been hearing this anti-nanite crap on the radio.  I'm in no shape to fight this battle."

Kento remained silent.  Nodding his head in perfect tune to signal he had heard.

"I'm too old.  All my money is tied up in properties and businesses.  I have too much to lose in an adventure like this."

"So what kind of future do you think Filly will have?  She'll be a slave.", Kento grimaced,  "I don't see that you have a choice."

Lucy walked back inside the door way shivering.  The door swung shut behind her.  "I'll help you guys any way I can, but if the shit hits the fan I'm out.", Lucy paused lost in thought.  She mumbled to herself, "I'd hate to lose the A-team."

Kento looked resigned.  "You're especially at risk, any time you feel the need and we are gone.  You are getting the worst of both worlds."

"I hope not.  Look how I got rich, economics and politics can turn around quick."

Lucy and Kento walked back to the A team booth quiet and reflective.

As they arrived at the booth Kento turned to Lucy and said, "Oh, by the way, you're never too old."

Joe looked up from the innards of the RC controller he was tinkering with.  "Hi Kento.", Joe turned to Lucy smiling. "To old for what?"

"Joe.. Hello, on the floor in an hour???!", Lucy appeared flustered, not totally from frustration.

Joe stared at Lucy and his smile grew.  He looked positively boyish.

"Hi!", Mark voice cut in.

"AHhhh!", Lucy jumped again.

"Why does everybody do that?", Lucy was talking a little louder.  Her heart was pounding.

"Sorry", Mark couldn't stop grinning, "I did it!"

"What?", Lucy had no idea what he was talking about.

"I know.", Joe was grinning again.

"I got the nanites to talk to me.", Mark exclaimed.  

What the hell, we're all going to go to jail, Lucy thought.  "Mark keep you're voice down.", Lucy said rasping.

They leaned in as Mark started whispering, "Oh right, so I was running this password cracker and trying all these different protocols across different media types and I was running this modified rsh login over a shortened IP/UDP protocol with a random username and password and it answered.", Mark inhaled "At first I thought I lost the connection to the ultra sound panel because at that range the signal was so strong it spiked the meter. Once I turned down the sensitivity of the meter I could see it was responding to me in a consistant way but kept disconnecting without returning a coherant packet, so I thought maybe I should try crafting a packet", Mark gasped for air, "just with a similar timed set of responses and with a little tuning I was getting the same few beats back, so I used the alphabet of digits I learned so far with a standard atm frame size and began running the cracker with the new alphabet", Mark inhaled, "in random combinations and suddenly open sesame, I had a standard telnet prompt strait to a shell over semi-standard ATM no login, it was actually a secret knock all along." Mark sucked down some air and began breathing deeply.

They all stared at Mark wheezing.

Joe broke the silence. "Cool!"

Lucy chimed in with a furrowed brow, "What?"

Kento stared into space almost talking to himself,  "We made some progress.  I thought we were going to have to mail them all over the planet, I really didn't want to risk it yet."

"Thought they'd use encryption.", Joe said aloud to himself.

"Yea that is kind of weird.", Kento said.  "Maybe the CPU isn't fast enough?.. or not broad enough bandwidth. Mark what rate was it pulsing.?"

Lucy cut Kento off, "Kento mail them to whom?", her voice was a little too loud.  A tech from a nearby cubical looked up from his robot and eyed them.

Kento looked at her sideways and whispered, "You don't think we're smart enough to analyze all this data ourselves, do you?  These things probably took years to develop, design and test.  Even if we were the top molecular biologists with the best gear, there aren't enough of us to document every molecule in a year with the three of us, much less understand how they work."

Lucy looked a little scared.  She wasn't ready just yet to send them packing.  Lucy whispered, "Kento, why didn't you tell us about this before?  Who else knows about this?" 

Kento raised an eyebrow and said, "Scientists."

Mark looked a little concerned now, "Kento, how many scientists?" 

"Six hundred and thirty two.", Kento said casually.   Kento alone, appeared calm.  Even the usually sullen Joe curled his lip.

Oh Lord.  Finny is going to be in foster care.  I'm going to be some guards personal servant at Rikers Island. Oh wait, no they won't send me to Rikers, they'll execute me for being an terrorist...

Kento saw the twisted look on Lucy's face, "Lucy it's OK. I know everyone of these people.  They spent their whole lives building up to expertise in nanotech. If they hadn't been strongarmed out by the feds, they would have cured cancer by now."

Lucy started reviewing every second of her interaction with Kento since she met him in high school. She thought about the class they first talked in, meeting Joe through him, seeing the bullied kids he helped.  She remembered going to lunch with mutual friends and later writing a recommendation letter for him for college.  She remembered visiting him in college, and three different professors came up to him to talk in a ten minute span!

"At school, the faculty all knew you by name.", Lucy mumbled.

"Teaching kempo in school, it all started there.", Kento looked her in the eye.

Mark looked at Kento, "You've been planning this all along."