The alarm went off, and the voice of a news reader boomed to life. "…traffic on the Cross-Node interchange is backed up, authorities estimate it'll take at least a microsecond to clean up."

Wayne MacHewlett, M.D., jerked awake with a gasp all out of proportion to the traffic report. His dog, curled in a snug ball at the foot of the bed, lifted his head and wagged his tail lazily. Wayne blinked, then shook his head and reached toward the nightstand. "Sorry about that, Roscoe," he told the dog as he shut off the radio. The sprite swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He stared off into space for a moment, absently running one hand from the back of his neck up over his bare scalp.

Roscoe, an animal of indeterminate breed but blessed with uncommon good sense, poked his nose under his master's arm and whined softly.

Wayne snapped back to attention and rubbed the dog's ears. "Yes, breakfast. Come on." He rose, and took the three strides necessary to carry him into his kitchen. The apartment had been described as "cozy" by the landlord, and "cramped" by everyone else who'd visited it, which wasn't many people, really. Wayne poured some dog kibble into a bowl for Roscoe and some cereal into a bowl for himself, and sat down to eat by the one distinguishing feature of his apartment—the picture window. The window looked out across several sectors of the bustling Supercomputer; there was always something for a tired sprite to lose himself in watching.

That same window had looked out on Daemon's arrival. Her reflection had glided across the glass just like the traffic did now…

Wayne jerked his attention away from the scene outside and focused on his cereal. He left the dishes in the sink and took Roscoe for his morning jog. If the dog noticed that the pace Wayne set was a bit quicker than usual, he didn't complain.

"Dr. MacHewlett?" The intern's voice was respectfully inquiring, not the least bit threatening, but Wayne started anyway.

The intern, who could have passed for someone's kid sister visiting the Academy, blushed. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but—"

"It's time for my rounds," Wayne finished. He glanced at the clock. "Almost twenty nanos past time, actually." He smiled at the intern in the doorway. "Thanks for the reminder, Katie." He closed the file he'd been scanning and rose. The intern, turning to go, didn't see the worried expression that flitted across the doctor's face.

The patients in the Ward kept Wayne occupied for the rest of the morning. He'd earned his position and his reputation. He kept a close, professional eye on the sprites under his care, and interns flourished under his tutelage. No matter how outrageous the injury or how severe the infection, everyone at the Guardian Complex trusted that Wayne had either seen something like it before, or would come up with something that would somehow beat all the odds and save the patient. There was at least one perennial rumor among the cadets that "Doc Wayne" had learned his skills from an ex-Codemaster who'd since disappeared. It was a fine story to tell in the bunkrooms during break time, but it had only the faintest aroma of truth to it. Dr. Wayne MacHewlett drew most of his diagnoses from fifteen minutes of experience dealing with Guardians. The others were the result of dogged perseverance mixed with a little luck. He enjoyed his job, most of the time. He had never married, and the reason for that, according to most of his former girlfriends, was that he was already married to his work.

The afternoon had given way to evening when Turbo came to the lab. The Prime Guardian leaned on the doorjamb for a nano or two, watching the lone occupant of the lab scan a binary file that appeared to be mostly gibberish. Turbo lifted an eyebrow and grinned, then reached out and tapped on the open door. "What's up, Doc?"

Wayne turned in his chair, and blinked when he saw his friend and boss standing in the doorway. He matched Turbo's grin, and gestured him to a seat. "Only you would bring up that ancient line."

"Don't make me feel any older than I am," Turbo answered as he repositioned the chair.

Wayne noted the move, and observed, "Still watching doors?"

"And windows, and every com port in the system. It's my job." Turbo straddled the seat of the chair and folded his arms across the back.

"Seen anything interesting lately?" Wayne asked.

"I see lots of interesting things, old friend. I hear even more. It's what I've heard that worries me."

Wayne lifted an inquiring yellow eyebrow.

Turbo explained. "There've been some strange reports from all over the Net lately. Weird stuff. Take a look." Turbo flipped an organizer pad out of his belt and into the air.

Wayne caught the pad with a gesture that belied his gentle physician's manner, and skimmed the first few files. "These are criminal reports, accidents," he said, puzzled. "Why are you bringing this to me?"

"Because I've got a hunch that you'll figure out what the connection is," Turbo answered.

Wayne looked at the files again. "This isn't my protocol, Turbo. I'm a doctor, not a detective."

"Exactly," Turbo said. He sighed. "Look, I know you've already got enough to do, with the new cadet class coming in. Just look at it for me, will you? Maybe you'll see something I've missed."

Wayne sighed, and put the pad beside the samples on the work table. "You don't miss things, Turbo, but I'll look."

"Thanks." The Prime Guardian changed the subject. "So, what are you doing? That doesn't look like light reading." He gestured at the binary readout.

Wayne turned back to look at the procession of numbers. "That's what's left of Daemon."

Turbo stiffened. "You're working with viral material? In the open lab?"

"It's not viral," Wayne answered clinically. "These are code samples from the interns."

Turbo sighed. "OK, Wayne, what're you doing?"

"I'm trying to figure out how we beat Daemon, so I can create a vaccine. That's my job," Wayne turned back to the screen.

"We've got the cure already, Wayne. We don't need a vaccine."

"We don't know where that cure came from," Wayne answered.

"It came from Enzo Matrix, over in Mainframe. Bob's cadet."

Wayne turned back to Turbo. "Right. A cadet. He had a field-copy version of a standard Guardian protocol. Daemon infected him just like she infected everyone else. Somehow this one cadet managed to fight off an infection that even the Prime Guardian couldn't hold out against." He shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Most of the time, nothing that comes out of Mainframe makes sense," Turbo said dryly. "That's one strange little system."

Wayne lifted both eyebrows and cocked his head. "It certainly is. It's so strange it saved our lives. I want to know how that happened." He turned back to his screen, brows furrowed.

Turbo sighed, and dropped his head for a moment. "All right, Wayne. I won't argue with your medical judgement." He brought his head back up again. "You still having nightmares?" he asked suddenly.

Wayne's eyes slid toward Turbo's face, but jerked back to the readouts before meeting the Prime Guardian's gaze. "It's a common aftereffect of major trauma," he answered.

"Huh," Turbo said. "Me, too." He rose in one smooth movement. "Keep me posted."

"Always," Wayne answered.

The next cycle had already begun by the time Wayne got back to his apartment. There were several messages waiting for him—all routine. The neighbor kids had taken Roscoe out for a long afternoon romp. The rent was due in three more cycles. He'd been invited to another conference. Wayne deleted the first two messages and saved the third for later. Preoccupied with the binary code still glowing in his brain, he carried the dishes into the shower with him, and stood holding a plate in one hand while soap ran down his face into his eyes. He left the plate precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, and went to bed, more out of habit than anything else. He was asleep before Roscoe had finished his customary pre-sleep circling.

Wayne started his rounds on time the following morning. He was demonstrating radical magnet therapy to an awed group of interns when a breathless cadet skidded to a stop in the hall, then tumbled into the room, windmilling his arms and knocking Katie into the delicate magnet unit.

There were several gasps and a scream as the magnet swung. Katie curled into a tight ball in the corner, clutching her face. The cadet hit the floor and scrambled under the patient's bed. The interns huddled toward the door. The patient, out cold, was the only one in the room who was unruffled.

Wayne reached, and caught the swinging magnet by its business end. There was a brief angry buzzing from the machine, then a sigh of powerdown. Wayne let go and flipped a few switches on the machine, cutting all power to it. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should never touch anything but the control surface of a medical magnet unit," he said, shaking his fingers. "The shielding will prevent accidental erasure, but it will give you a nasty shock, and the emergency protocols will shut the unit down."

He crouched and looked under the bed. "You have some explaining to do, Cadet. And an apology to make."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," the cadet said, sliding out from under the bed. His blush had turned gold skin to copper, which clashed violently with his blue hair.

"I'm not the one who's going to be sore for a decacycle," Wayne said mildly. He helped Katie to her feet. Her skin was rapidly going from its usual light lavender to a bruised purple.

"Sorry," the cadet said quickly to the intern as he rose. He turned to Wayne. "I'm really sorry to interrupt, Doctor Wayne, but there's been an accident and the people downstairs said to come and get you as fast as I could."

"All right, I'm coming," Wayne answered. He turned to the interns. "Cody, you and Ana take Katie to the break room and get her some cold packs. Selene, Rudyard, you're with me. Cass, you stay here and keep Argus stable. You," the pointed at the cadet, "go to the nurses' desk and have them page Dr. Frances. Try not to run anyone else down." He spun on his heel and was out the door with his chosen interns hard on his heels.

Wayne forgave the cadet a little when he arrived in the emergency room. There were nearly two dozen victims, all partially scrambled from a cadet training error . The disfigurements were stomach-turning to look at--Rudyard hurriedly excused himself to the washroom—and potentially life-threatening if not handled properly, but with treatment the entire group would soon be back to normal.

Turbo came by as the pandemonium settled down to the ordinary bustle of a major hospital. The Prime Guardian went from bed to bed, checking on everyone and leaving a trail of reassured cadets. He found Wayne in the second-floor break room, again surrounded by interns. Turbo caught Wayne's eye and jerked his head toward the hall. Wayne nodded shortly, and rose.

Turbo waited until Wayne had closed the break room door behind him, then said, "Busy cycle." He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms.

"Most cycles are busy around here," Wayne answered. "You usually are, too."

"What do you know about what happened to those kids?"

"You mean the cadets? They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something went wrong in a simulation."

"That's not the half of it," Turbo said abruptly. "Those are first-level cadets."

"What?" Wayne's brow furrowed. "What were they doing in third-level sims, then?"

"No one seems to know," Turbo growled. "I talked to every one of them who could talk back, and none of them has any idea how they ended up in that room, who hacked into the simulator controls, or how they managed to beat the sim without so much as an energy shield."

"Shock does that," Wayne replied. "They'll remember the details more clearly in a few cycles, when their code's sorted out again. Maybe it was someone's idea of a prank."

Turbo shook his head. "Have you looked at that file I gave you?"

"I haven't had a free nano since breakfast, Turbo."

"Add this incident to it, then. There've been freak accidents like this happening all over the Net, and I'm beginning to think they're not accidents."

Wayne gave his friend a hard look. "When was the last time you took some time off?"

"Probably around the same time you last confused zero and one. I know how it sounds, Wayne. Just read the file, OK?"

Wayne heaved a deep sigh. "If you keep your cadets out of my emergency room."

Turbo grinned. "You got it. I'll nullify the next batch myself."

Wayne relaxed enough to smile. "So next you're going to ask me to come up with a cure for nullification?"

The siren went off, interrupting the tests on the new protocol. He grunted, more annoyed than concerned. Emergency drills kept the interns on their toes, but the wail of the siren really got on one's nerves after a few minutes in the Ward. He locked the lab door and climbed up on a lab stool to disconnect the power to the siren. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, he climbed down and went back to work.

Then the pounding started. The door jumped against its hinges, then burst inward.