MEGA MAN: GUIDING RAINBOW'S LIGHT

By Eric "Erico" Lawson

Chapter One: Hopeful Living

"The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom."

-Isaac Asimov


The National Institute of the Sciences

Redmond, Washington

May 20th, 2039 C.E. (Common Era)

8:49 A.M.

There was something humorous to be said about the location of the vaunted National Science Institute; Created during the short-lived "Green Living" movement of the 2010's, the building had been set in the picturesque landscape of the Pacific Northwest.

It was also a short drive from several of the world's major video game headquarters, regional or otherwise. The scenery was somewhat more pleasing, however.

An unfamiliar motorcycle raced up the road to the parking lot, swerving its way into a spot and falling quiet. Its rider flipped out the kickstand and climbed off of it, then reached to unstrap the fake leather briefcase that had been tied behind him.

After all that was done, he carefully removed his helmet and took a moment to stare towards the building with an appreciative nod.

It was a few decades old, but the structure had been built on solid architectural principles, along with a few eccentricities in the design. With lush foliage of Washington redwoods and gardens all about the perimeter, the white-walled complex was warmer and more inviting than he would have originally guessed.

"It looks like a mountain retreat." Dr. Thomas X. Light commented, setting his helmet on the handlebars of his 'hog and unbuttoning his leather jacket. "But it's the correct address." He checked his watch; Still a few minutes early, but all the better to make a good first impression. He had no intention of screwing this one up.


He didn't say anything as he walked through the building's revolving glass doors. Pristine marble floors and the wafting smell of carefully tended plants invited him in, seeming more like a museum than a building meant for scientific advancement.

It was also incredibly busy, with people running back and forward in all directions.

Dr. Light lifted up his rider's sunglasses and nested them in his brown hair. "I could get used to this." He mused. He dipped his free hand into his khaki's pants pocket and brushed the side of his black leather jacket back. "Nice ambience, good location…"

A fellow in a white lab coat came stomping by, and Thomas nodded at him. "Hey there. I was wondering if you might…"

"I'm busy, sorry." Came the brushoff, and the grim man continued on his way.

Tom winced. "Well, so much for friendly people."

He walked up to the front desk and leaned on it. The receptionist seemed quite busy, chattering over the wireless headset she wore and typing on her keyboard. "…Yes, I've confirmed your flight, sir. No, no I didn't check to see if they served mineral water. I…" She winced. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Have a good day, sir. We'll see you when…"

The person on the other end of the line must have hung up, because she stopped midsentence and let out a groan. The receptionist took a moment to compose herself, then whirled, none too happily, to address the newcomer.

"Can I help you?" She snapped.

Tom jumped a little bit, but managed a weak laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'm…"

"Deliveries are accepted at the back entrance." The receptionist interrupted coldly. She turned back to her computer and began ignoring him.

Tom frowned for a moment and gave his clothes a once-over; True, he wasn't in a full business suit, but he'd learned early to dress comfortably, and outside of a few very special occasions, never broke that tradition. Still, even though he wore a light blue T-Shirt, brown khakis and a black motorcycle jacket, he'd never been dismissed as a delivery boy before.

He tapped on her counter again and cleared his throat. The receptionist glowered at him, and pushed her glasses down to peer over their rims. "What?"

"I'm not here for a delivery, ma'am." He explained in his best drawl. "I work here. Starting today."

The receptionist blinked. "I beg your pardon?" She went to an old-fashioned paper timesheet and sifted through it. "I'm sorry, but the only person scheduled to report to us today was a Doctor Thomas…"

"Tom Light." He held out his hand and smiled at her. "A pleasure."

The secretary went red in the face. "I'm…I'm terribly sorry, doctor, I didn't know you would be so…"

"Few do." Dr. Light winked, knowing she'd meant to say young. "Now then. I've got an appointment with Doctor Randall Simdorn at nine, so if you could direct me to his office…"

The receptionist pointed down the end of the hall behind her, to the elevators. "The Director, eh? He's on the second floor, right corridor. Can't miss him." She shuffled behind the counter for a moment and proffered up a laminated visitor's badge. "Here. This'll get you around until you get your own."

Thomas fingered it, noting the magnetic strip along its edge. "Barcode entry, eh?"

"Welcome to the Institute." The receptionist smiled again, giving him another nod.

He smiled back and excused himself, then walked to the elevator, punching the button.

He stepped inside and pressed the button for the second floor, then took a step back.

"Hold the door! Hold the door!!" An insistent woman's voice suddenly exclaimed. Running on instinct alone, he shoved his arm out of the elevator's entryway and stopped the doors from sliding shut.

His first look at the twenty-something year old woman would be the one which would stay with him the longest, through all the rest of his long years. There would be other images of her, from other times when she meant more and was more, but first appearances truly were the enduring ones.

Her golden blond hair was tied back with a braid done for convenience's sake rather than looks. Bright green eyes were held wide and captive behind her glasses, and her unbuttoned white lab smock revealed a smooth red blouse and green skirt. She was casual without being slovenly, and flushed from the dash, holding a pile of papers against her chest to keep them from falling apart.

Somewhere in that prime glance, Tom realized he'd fallen in love.

"Thank you." She breathed, when the elevator doors shut and they began to rise. "I didn't think I'd make it."

"In a hurry to get someplace?" He asked, giving her a genial smile.

"It feels like I'm always in a hurry to get someplace." She smiled back, beginning to sift through her papers. "But today's worse than others. I've got a presentation to make to my superior in ten minutes, and I feel like…"

"Like you're totally unprepared for what's behind those doors." He summarized, seeming to read her mind. The woman paused and looked at him carefully. He held out his hand and grinned at her, an infectious expression he'd spent years perfecting. "Thomas Light."

She smiled back and shook his hand. "Vanessa Tercel."

"Pleased to meet you."

Vanessa nodded. "I don't remember seeing you around here before…"

"Something tells me that I could work here for a year and you still wouldn't know me." He observed dryly. She blushed at the comment, and he laughed to break her shame. "Don't worry. Your mind's other places; goes with the territory, I think." He put his hand into his trouser pocket again. "But you're right; I'm new here. This is my first day."

"Really?" Vanessa asked, her curiosity piqued. "Just what are you going to do here at the Institute?"

"Well, I'll be working with communications, mostly…"

"You're THAT Doctor Light?" Curiosity faded away for open awe. "Everybody's been wondering about who the new hire was…"

"Guilty." Thomas shrugged. "So, do I meet your high standards?"

"Well, we're pretty relaxed around here." She began thoughtfully. "You might want to lose the leather jacket for a lab coat, but…"

"I wasn't asking about the Institute's opinion." Tom winked at her.

Vanessa blushed again, but became quickly defensive. "Wear whatever you want. I could care less."

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out, grateful for the reprieve. "It was nice talking with you." She mumbled apologetically, scuffling off down the corridor.

"Knock them dead, Vanessa!" He called after her, stepping out and grinning all the wider. She didn't look back, of course, and disappeared into the maze of the Institute's halls.

Tom let out a long sigh and swung his briefcase over his shoulder. "Damn." He muttered. "I forgot to ask which section she worked in…"

He could deal with that later, of course. For now, he had his own appointment to keep.

"Right corridor. Can't miss it." He checked his sunglasses one last time and started walking.


"Aah, there you are! Come in, my boy! Damned good to see you. Damned good!"

Five seconds into his meeting, Thomas Light decided that the Director of the Institute was one of those gentlemen who fit into the "Crazy old bastard" category. The white-haired man gave him a broad smile and slapped him so hard on the shoulders that his head spun.

"Come on in. Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir." Tom said, fully grateful for the reprieve as he sunk into the fake leather chair.

"So, did you have any trouble finding the place?" Dr. Simdorn asked.

"Not really."

"Good to hear, good to hear. And you're all settled in?"

"I've got an apartment, if that's what you mean."

"Good, good. Saves me the trouble of putting you up at my place." The old man laughed. He sat down at his desk and leaned in towards Light. "Good thing, too. I happen to have a daughter about six years younger than you at home…No sense risking temptation, eh?"

Light paled, and the old man laughed again. "Relax, relax. I'm just teasing you. Still, I was thrilled to hear that you wanted to come work with us."

"The Institute brings together some of the brightest minds in the country." Light replied. "It just seemed like I could do the most good here." It was a pale answer, but the best he could manage. The director of the Institute apparently had a habit of repeating everything he said twice; it was likely a verbal tic, a way to stall for time, much as most people used uhms to stretch out their speech.

"So you can, my boy. So you can." Dr. Simdorn drummed his fingers on his desk. "A doctorate in languages and communication, and your secondary field was programming. An interesting combination. Any particular reason?"

"It just felt right." Thomas admitted. "I've always liked studying other languages. You can understand different countries and peoples by learning their tongue."

"Indeed." Dr. Simdorn nodded. "I'm fluent in French myself as well…but according to your resume, you're fluent in…"

"Japanese, Chinese, French, Russian, Spanish, Latin…" Light continued on for a while, counting them off on his fingers. "…Dutch, German, Hindi, and Gaelic."

Dr. Simdorn lifted a bushy eyebrow. "Gaelic?"

Thomas gave him a sheepish look. "I needed at least one language that was fun. It's about the only one you can proposition a girl with and not expect to get slapped by somebody in a crowd for."

"That, and it sounds positively primal." His superior remarked. "Well, I have to say, Tom, it'll be unusual having you aboard. You'll have your own office, of course, and your own laboratory. As for a staff, however…"

"Don't worry about it." Tom waved off the old man's concerns. "I'm used to doing things on my own. I'll be all right for now."

"Have you given thought to what your first project is going to be?"

"I've got a few ideas." Thomas Light smiled, tapping on his wrist. "So tell me. How open is the Institute? Are we able to fraternize?"

"You mean, can you discuss your projects with other scientists here at the Institute?" The Director queried, scratching at his head. "Well, there's nothing against it. We don't believe in cloak and dagger stuff here; Other thinktanks tied to the military may be, but we like to think of ourselves as a public interest. No, you can talk about your projects all you like; it's your call on how secretive you want to be." The old man winked. "Of course, around this time of the year, people really start to bottle up about what their department's working on."

Light raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why would that be?"

"Well, we all earn a decent clip of money; enough to support a modest standard of living, though the politicians earn about twice as much…But the real moneymaker around here is the annual review from the Congressional Budget Committee."

"Come again?"

"Boy, you really don't know what you're stepping into, do you?" Director Simdorn readjusted his glasses. "Once a year, our little side projects are given a chance to really shine: See, it's an open contest; whoever comes up with the best idea, the new insight of technology which will serve to better our country, and most likely as it's been in years past, the world, gets a cushy government grant beyond the Institute's normal budget, and a chance to put it into action."

"How very Darwinian." Tom observed.

"Survival of the fittest, yes, but the best ideas are the ones that float to the surface afterwards. It helps to keep this places' reputation alive…not to mention, it keeps the politicians from giving us the axe. They can't afford to lose what we do here. They never know which bright idea they'll need next."

"What was last year's winning project?"

"Remember when the government announced that they were putting out an open patent for free development on free-hover magnathruster technology?"

"The magnetic repulsors which use the earth's own magnetic field to get off the ground?" Light clarified in surprise. "That came from here?"

"All good things do, m'boy." Director Simdorn smiled. "All good things do."

"So just how many departments do we have here in the Institute?"

"When all's said and done, I think we have around fourteen R&D teams at work."

"I suppose that would make my department the "Fifteenth Unit", then?" Light proposed cheerfully.

"Next you'll start giving us all color-coded costumes and mecha which form giant attack robots." Dr. Simdorn laughed. "Relax. Most of the departments keep to themselves; urban redevelopment and agricultural studies, for instance, I don't think you'll be seeing a lot of them."

"I probably won't be seeing a lot of any of them, if I'm going to have a project ready by this deadline of yours in a month."

"I went ahead and took the liberty of tossing a bed in your office along with the coffee maker." The Director pointed out. He readjusted his glasses, unfazed by the odd look. "Trust me; the first time you decide to work late and can't drag yourself back home, you'll be glad it's there. I think it'd be easier to have our own dormitories here on site, almost…but I, like most of the others, value a separation of professional and personal lives."

"That's a sentiment I can agree with."

"Well, all right then." The Director stood up and clapped his hands together. "What say we send you on your way to your new work quarters, eh?"

"Aren't there any procedures I need to know about? Company guidelines?"

Dr. Simdorn tilted his head to the side. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I just assumed that there'd be some rules and regulations…"

"Oh, right." The grandfatherly old man nodded his head, then set a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Well, let's see here…Uhh, always flush after you're done, that's a big one…We don't mind long distance calls, but if it's non-work related, we'll charge you for it…We don't really have a dress code outside of no fishnet shirts, and for the love of God, keep the family jewels stowed away…"

Thomas Light cleared his throat. "That's it?" He asked incredulously. "No security guidelines? No 'chain of command', or 'file this form in triplicate?'"

Dr. Simdorn blinked at him. "What did you expect? The military?" The old man threw his hands up in the air. "We're SCIENTISTS! We'd have no room to think the big thoughts if we had to spend every waking moment worrying about the little details!" He let out another laugh and reached underneath his desk. "Jiminy Christmas, Light. Relax. I've worked very hard to make sure this place didn't get mucked up in the bureaucracy. Just keep your nose clean, try not to kill anyone, and we'll be able to keep it that way."

"I'll try, sir."

"Oh, and before I forget, there is one more thing." Simdorn said, keeping the newest member of the Institute from leaving his office. The young twenty-six year old doctor waited patiently. Director Simdorn smiled and pulled out a garment of white fabric, enclosed in biodegradable plastic. "Welcome aboard…Doctor Light."

Light couldn't hold in the beaming smile as he unwrapped the brand new white laboratory coat and unfolded it. He quickly switched off his black leather jacket for the smock, and whirled himself about in it. "Can I keep it?"

"Yours for life, son." Simdorn grinned. "One free with every stint in the madhouse. You'll find your office on the first floor, west wing…Hope you don't mind, but we had to put you by the Robotics and Cybertechnology department."

"Anything I need to worry about?"

"If you hear swearing in German, it means that they failed another experiment." Simdorn grinned. "Of course, that's just par for the course with our chief mad scientist."

"Who?"

"Aah, you'll meet him soon enough." Simdorn shrugged him off, ushering him for the door. "Remember, big thoughts!"

Light stopped before Simdorn could fully exhume him from his office. "Sir? There is one favor I'd like to ask."

"Well, I'm not in the business of granting wishes, but I'll consider it if it's reasonable." The old man folded his arms. "What's on your mind?"

Light mulled over the sentence carefully in his head. How he phrased this next sentence could either bring suspicion down…or just leave his superior thinking he was following up on a prior encounter. "Earlier today, I met a woman by the name of Vanessa Tercel. She dropped a pen in the elevator, and I'd like to return it to her…but I don't have the faintest idea where she is in this place."

"It can get awfully zoo-ey around here." Simdorn agreed. "But luck's on your side today, Good Samaritan. Miss Tercel is an associate resident in the Robotics department…right next to where you'll be stationed."

Light smiled at that, more coyly than he had intended. "Well, isn't that convenient…"

"All right, enough lollygagging!" Simdorn laughed, slapping Light across the back and knocking him out into the corridor. "Big thoughts, Light! BIG!"

The door slammed shut, and the brown-haired polyglot gave his head a shake as he walked away.

"The man's absolutely nuts." He muttered under his breath. Somehow, though, he was smiling.

It was a kind of crazy he might just like being around.


His "Laboratory" was small and cozy, even in its barren state. It had only taken him three minutes to empty out his briefcase, power up his desktop PC, and realize that he had absolutely no clue where to begin. Eventually, his workspace would be cluttered by documents, bits of machinery, and whatever supplies he requisitioned. For the moment, it was a blank slate.

He spent a half an hour trying to put some coherent thoughts together. The "Contest" to be held in a month should have held his interest; There was no better opportunity to put his theories to work than for that one great test.

Unfortunately for the young and intrepid linguist programmer, dreams of Networks and an interconnected world would have to wait. Thomas Light had Vanessa Tercel on the brain, and everything else was a moot point. He finally shoved his notes aside into the top drawer of his desk and screen-locked his machine.

"I'll just go and introduce myself properly." He resolved, waiting impatiently for his coffeemaker to finish its brew cycle. "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm just meeting people, being a polite neighbor…bringing her coffee…"

He drew a hand over his face and quieted the requisite joke which came with coffee and cream. "Steady on, Tom." He breathed. "It's a little early for that."

The coffeemaker completed its run just in the nick of time, and he reached for the two Institute-labeled ceramic mugs supposedly left by his boss. "It's just a cup of coffee and some chitchat."

A loud thud from the Robotics department stopped his ramblings, and smoke exploded outwards from a glass door which was now little more than broken shards..

"What in the…" Thomas whispered, just as a loud beeping from the fire alarms within the facility began to wail. Being careful not to spill his coffee, he stepped through the remains of the door's frame, crunching glass fragments as he went. "Are you all right in here?"

"Mein Gott! Nein, nein, NEIN!!" That was the most logical thing the linguist and programmer heard before the man's voice descended into a series of ranting German that would have made a sailor blush.

Of course, Director Simdorn had warned him about a fellow who swore in German in the robotics department. It seemed that he would get to meet the "Mad Scientist" sooner than expected.

The ventilation fans finally began to have an effect on the acrid air, and the voice swearing in German calmed down enough to scream for somebody to turn off the alarm.

Silence descended on the room, and when the smoke cleared, Dr. Light found himself in the middle of a handful of people, who all stared at the fellow with two coffee mugs as though he were a ghost.

He gave a nervous laugh and held up his coffee mugs. "Uhh…Hey there. I'm your new neighbor. Thought I'd drop by and say hello. Is everything all right?"

He spotted Vanessa Tercel off on the far side of the room. She clearly noticed him, because she turned back about and found her monitor panel to be the most interesting thing in the world.

"No, nothing is all right." The grumbling male voice, which had switched from German to English, explained. Light turned about and looked towards the source.

His counterpart wore blue jeans and a button-down shirt with a red tie underneath his lab coat. Rumpled black hair seemed to jut out from the sides of his head, and the hair over the middle of his scalp already seemed to be receding back from his widow's peak. A bushy mustache, almost comical, complimented the ensemble. By the look of him, he was in his late twenties; older than Light, but still full of youthful spark.

The fellow folded his arms and tapped his foot expectantly. "Are you a fan of career-jarring tragedies or something?"

"Just the ones with smoke." Tom countered, hoping humor was the best approach to defusing the situation.

The black-haired fellow raised an eyebrow for a moment, then cracked a smile and let off a sharp laugh, as shrill as his German had been. "Good answer. So, who are you supposed to be, then?"

"Thomas Light. In charge of the Communications department, I suppose." Light held out a mug of coffee; it seemed the apropos thing to do.

The wild-haired fellow waved it away. "Don't drink the stuff. Albert Wily. My friends call me William, or Will for short."

"Your middle name?"

"Two for two. You're a bright one." Wily remarked. He motioned beside them, to where a charred mess of ozone-festered metal, wire, and burned plastic and circuit boards lay still smoldering. "And this is today's little problem, in case you were wondering."

Light set the coffee mugs aside and bent down on his haunches. "Huh." It seemed like an overglorified erector set, though many robots were just that. "What happened to it?"

"It was supposed to be able to simulate walking." Wily sighed, rubbing furiously at the front of his head. Now, Light understood why he was going bald in the middle. "You've heard of bionic limbs, right?"

"Yes, although they're still rudiment…" Light's voice trailed off, and he looked up to Wily in surprise.

The "Mad Scientist" of the Institute offered a shit-eating grin. "Rudimentary? Not anymore. We perfected the synaptic relays just last month."

"So why this then?" Light asked. "I mean, if you already have a working product, why dabble?"

"For the simple reason that we CAN dabble." Albert Wily retorted. The shock on his face was open and honest. "How else are we to expand the boundaries of the field of robotics?"

Light had to agree with that; It wasn't like there were any moral ramifications to be concerned with, either. Whether it was genetics or artificial intelligence, science and morality could always get mired.

Wily exhaled again and jammed his hands into his pockets. "But that brings us back to our current conundrum." He glanced towards one of his underlings. "Franz, das wort?"

"It's Frank, sir." The lab rat explained, with a tone that indicated he'd corrected his superior more than once.

"Yes, yes." Wily sighed, chirping back to perfect English in a moment's blink. "But what's the word?"

The technician adjusted his glasses and looked on his display. "As near as I can tell, the synaptic relays were working perfectly. It's just that…well, the electronic master control couldn't generate signals quickly enough to keep it from locking up."

Over in her corner, Vanessa groaned. "Cascade failure? AGAIN?"

Wily bit his lip. "Schtupp." He muttered underneath his breath. "It always comes back to the processor, doesn't it?"

"Wait a minute." Light interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Everything in here is state of the art, right? Don't you have Triple-Core Processors?"

"They operate at 1.7 Terabits a second, but it doesn't help." Wily corrected him, kicking the melted scrap with his toe. "It's not a matter of processing power, Tom. It's a matter of translation."

"The signals used by the relays to communicate are more complicated than a simple processor core can handle." Vanessa explained, typing at her panel. "Think of it like an American child being asked to read a document in Katakana script. The sounds may be the same, but the wording gums it all up."

Light blinked a few times, then raised his hand. "Do you think I could take a look at it?"

Wily snorted at the idea. "I thought you were into communications, newbie. Isn't robotics a little out of your field?"

Light looked up to Vanessa, who realized too late what he had in mind. "Oh no, don't…" She whispered to herself.

"My doctorate's in communications, but I've got extensive training in programming as well." Light gave Wily an amicable smile. "If you'd be willing to accept my help, I'd see what I could do to help you out. From what you've told me…your machines just don't know how to talk to each other."

"Huh." Wily mumbled, giving his head another scratch. "Well…I've never really gotten help from outside the department before."

"Actually, it's never been offered before." Another technician spoke up, twirling a replacement servo in his hand. "Most people stay as far away from Frankenstein's laboratory as they can."

Wily shot him a withering glare, but the damage had been done. He sighed and turned back to Light with an apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid dingus over there is correct. My department has a reputation for its oddities. You might be doing yourself a disservice to your career by associating with us."

"You know, I might be?" Light mused aloud. "But then, I always figured I had bigger things to worry about than what other people thought of me professionally. So, the way I see it, you can either take the help that's offered, or you can mope around as the mad scientist everybody claims you are."

Albert Wily gave it a long moment's thought, then glanced about the room. Outside of Vanessa's unique scowl, everybody else seemed genial to the notion, and said so with their smiles and nods.

"Well, all right then, Tom." Wily said, extending his hand. "As long as it doesn't interfere with whatever you need to get done in your own department…you're welcome to tackle the problem."

Thomas Light shook his hand, and a spark of static ran between them. They winced for only a moment before the brown-haired doctor gave an approving nod. "I'll make time. We're neighbors now…We might as well get along." He motioned with his head towards Vanessa. "Why don't you have Miss Tercel come by later this afternoon with the program data? I'll give it a once-over."

Wily seemed to balk at the request. "You want HER help? Sure you don't want me to send Frank instead?"

Making a mental note to ask Vanessa about that comment later, Dr. Light shrugged off the suggestion. "No. I know Vanessa. We bumped into each other on the ride up."

"I was wondering why she was late this morning." Wily grumbled. He pulled his hand back and kicked the pile of robotic scrap again. "All right, all right. I'll send her by later with the stuff."

"I look forward to it." Light smiled. Albert gave him a long appraising look, then shook his head and excused himself.

Light took the opportunity to pick up his coffee mugs and stroll over to Vanessa's work station. She tried ignoring him, but Tom proved to be incredibly persistent.

"So. Nice place you've got here. Can I bring the marshmallows next time?"

"Ha ha." She rolled her eyes. "Listen, Light…"

"Tom. Call me Tom."

"Light." Vanessa Tercel corrected him, in no mood for the familiarity that first names implied. "I'm not in the mood for games, and I'm not interested."

"You wound me." Light gasped, faking astonishment. "I'm just introducing myself around the neighborhood, is all. And spreading good cheer."

He set the coffee mug down on the coaster built into her workstation. Vanessa glared at him again. "Are you trying to upstage us here, is that it? Trying to prove you can do what we can't?"

"Where I come from, we don't offer help for any other reason outside of trying to be friendly." Thomas retorted, his irritation finally sincere. "I don't know if that's how it works here, but that's how it was intended."

He leaned over her monitor a bit, and she backed away from him.

Light pursed his lips, then shrugged his shoulders. "All right. I'll leave the choice up to you. You can not come by this afternoon; You can tell your boss 'Will' that I wasn't able to make heads or tails of your software, and that it was a worthless gesture. Or…you can swallow whatever west coast pride I've apparently crashed headfirst into and bring your relay data by my office. Either case, I won't hold it against you. I would like to get to know you better…but I'm not going to let you chew my arm off for offering friendship that isn't wanted."

He took a sip of his own coffee, gave her another headstrong smile, and tapped on her monitor twice. Without another word, Thomas Light swiveled about and strolled out through the broken glass doors of the Robotics department.

Vanessa Tercel blinked her bright green eyes at the most unusual man she had ever known, let out a groan, and looked to Albert Wily for guidance. "Don't make me go."

Wily pulled on his mustache, considering the broken doorway that led to the rest of the Institute. "You know, every so often a rebel manages to fall through the nets of cow-towing bureaucracy. A wunderkind, as it were." He waved her off. "I like him. I don't know if I can trust him, but I like him. Drop by his place later today. Take him up on the offer. Let's see if you can do THAT much right without making something explode."

Vanessa, used to his abuse, kept the conversation guided on the original irritation. "I don't feel comfortable around him, Doctor."

"No, you wouldn't." Wily said, a twinkle in his eye which held back some secret knowing. "He's real."


The Communications department (Dr. Light's laboratory)

The National Institute of the Sciences

Early that afternoon

She found the doors unlocked, and an unusual sound echoing towards her as she forced herself to walk the last bit of distance to what seemed to her, his lair.

It was faint; at a low volume. Music, Vanessa picked up. By the sounds of it, jazz. She hadn't heard jazz music in ages.

"Hello?" She called out tentatively. Hearing no immediate reply, she strolled in to look for him.

To say the place was sparse would have been an understatement; the open laboratory still smelled of the pine scented cleaner that the janitorial staff used. Of course, he had just moved in. It would take some time before it looked presentable and busy.

What he did have out either showed a tremendous amount of opening effort, or as Vanessa preferred to think of him, a tremendous amount of opening stupidity. There seemed to be little order in how things were strewn about.

One whiteboard was already littered with nonsensical diagrams and arrows; mathematical equations, she could have understood, but the fellow who went by "Tom" seemed to run on a different wavelength. Papers, some with the same sort of drawings and a multitude of others, were scattered across the large central table.

Vanessa set the coffee mug Thomas Light had brought her beside the papers and stared about again. "This place is a disaster." She exclaimed, frowning.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Vanessa spun about towards his voice. Thomas Light rose from his desk, where he'd been hiding behind an expansive flatscreen monitor. He'd discarded the leather jacket and sunglasses for the white laboratory coat common to the Institute, but the unshakable grin remained.

He waved at her, friendly to a T. "I thought you might decide to come by."

"Let's just get this over with." Vanessa sighed. She pulled a portable memory drive out of her pocket and marched over to him. "Dr. Wily wanted you to have these to look over, and I've brought them."

Light sighed as she handed it over. "Do you have to be so curt? I liked you a lot better this morning when you didn't know who I was."

"This morning, I didn't know you were hitting on me."

"What, you have something against interested men?" Light laughed, plugging in the memory device.

"Just doctors." She answered candidly, and left it at that. She moved closer to help explain the data he was going to be looking at, and before the file from her drive came up, she saw what he'd been working on before.

It was programming code, of that there was no doubt. But the complexity at work; multilayered, yet startlingly simple in its approach, caught her off guard. She had thought he was a dabbler…But there was intelligence behind it.

He must have caught her looking, because he chuckled a bit to himself and tapped on the glass. "Don't feel like you have to gush adoration. I've been working on this code for three years now."

Vanessa was by no means a genius when it came to the software side of things. Her specialty was in the mechanics of robotics; servos, wires, and circuitry. Still, she knew enough of computer language to know that she was staring at a better than average accomplishment, even if she had no idea what it was supposed to do.

"Just what is this?" She finally asked, risking a long-winded speech.

"A hope for mankind." Light said, but his voice was off. It felt to Vanessa that he hadn't been speaking to her then, but to whatever ether lay just beyond the waking world.

The blond-haired engineer had heard many boasts and bragging comments over the years. There were always plenty of scientists and inventors who raved that their own insight and development would "Change the world," or "Be a part of every household," or some other boastful claim.

In the years she had been a part of the sphere of scientific development, Thomas Light's answer stood starkly independent. There was no boastful claim in his answer, only a quiet glimmer of some motivation beyond money or fame.

At last, Vanessa realized why the young Dr. Light rubbed her the wrong way, and why Wily had been so intrigued with him.

He was a dreamer.

"No, not that. I mean, what does it do?"

"If everything goes according to plan, you mean?" Light suggested, stealing away the first of the barbs she would have used regardless of his answer. Vanessa hid the blush and nodded, keeping her face straight. "If it works, my dear Miss Tercel, I will have created the first worldwide translator…and the foundations for humanity to interact at a level never before seen."

"You're awfully hopeful." Vanessa mumbled. "How do you know it will work?"

"I don't." Thomas admitted, unfazed by the doubt. "Doesn't stop me from trying."

He saved his work and closed out the program code, then brought up the folder from Vanessa's portable memory drive. "But let's get down to business, shall we? I'd hate to keep you longer than you can stand."

For the first time in her entire visit, Vanessa felt guilty about how she was treating him. She didn't quite know how it had happened, but it had occurred all the same, and there was little she could do about it now except make the rest of the visit somewhat amiable. "I apologize." She offered weakly, searching for some excuse to make her seem less the heartless technician. "It's been a very rough day. My…my presentation this morning didn't go well."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dr. Light offered consolingly, and somehow she knew that he meant it. "But we all have off days. I wouldn't dwell on it too much; life's too short to stay bitter, right?"

She couldn't resist the urge to cross her arms and size him up again. "Just where did you come from, anyway?"

Sensing an opportunity for humor, Light turned his head about partway and winked at her. "Somewhere between the big rock candy mountain and over the rainbow." After a moment's pause to let it sink in, he laughed and waved her puzzlement away. "Kidding. Indiana, originally."

"Indiana?"

"I attended Roberts University for a couple of years to get some general coursework out of the way, then finished up my Doctorate at Franklin."

Vanessa shook her head. "But you don't look older than twenty-five…"

"Twenty-six, actually." Light pointed out.

"But a Doctorate takes eight years to…" Vanessa paused, staring at him again. "Just when did you graduate from high school again?"

Light winced and turned back to his screen. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why not?" Vanessa teased him, leaning in closer.

He tensed up for a moment, then sighed as he opened up her file. "Maybe because it works better when people don't know that about me."

"Oh, come on. Did you graduate a year early, was that it?" He didn't say anything, and she pressed on. "A year and a half?"

"You're not going to let this drop, are you?"

"You're the one who wanted to be sociable."

He bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine. But you're off."

"TWO years?" She asked, incredulous.

"Three."

He'd whispered it, and she hadn't heard him clearly. "Come again?"

"I graduated three years early." Stunned silence overrode her, and Light sighed, resting his head on his free hand. "I asked for the General Equivalency exam at the end of my freshman year; passed it with flying colors, then moved on. It's no big deal."

"What are you, a genius?"

"Would you like me to be?" He pointedly asked. Vanessa frowned.

"Well, no, not especially."

"Then I'm not one." Light resolved. "Just a friendly gentleman who's willing to offer you some help." He exhaled again and motioned to the screen. "So, is this the programming code for your cybernetic legs?"

"Mostly." Vanessa agreed, circling a few lines with a finger. "There's some added code in there, which we had to add after the first set."

"I see." Light mused. "Who wrote the code?"

"Doctor Wily did."

"He's a programmer too, then?"

"It's not his strongest ability…but he wasn't about to let anybody else touch the code."

"Aah." Light clicked his tongue a few times, then reached for his keyboard. "May I?"

"Help yourself."

He did so with gusto, staring intently at the screen as his hands became a blur. Unlike most people who relied on the ten-finger type method, Light had a modified tactic; he only used the index finger of his left hand and the thumb and first three fingers of his right. It was interesting to watch, and he didn't make a single mistype in the process.

After a few moments, he smiled and started to talk again. "So what was your presentation about this morning?"

"An idea for a self-controlled traffic vehicle."

"A Robocop?" Light mused, harkening back to the titular character from the movies of the late 20th century.

"Not quite. It would more or less be a police cruiser that guided itself along major highways."

"What about the awareness protocols?"

"We've sent probes to Mars for years now that have been able to use their sensors to detect obstacles and go around them." Vanessa boasted. "It's not much of a stretch to create a program for an autonomous vehicle along those same guidelines. That's what traffic is, after all."

"So why did Wily not like the idea?"

"For the same reasons I thought he'd use." Vanessa said, brushing her hair back. "Too complicated. Too many variables. Too many added components to be built into existing highways for the government to endorse."

"I see…" Light mused. His fingers hesitated for a moment, then took off at their gazelle's pace shortly thereafter. "In other words, something that Wily felt the government wouldn't be willing to go through."

"We all have ideas that are impossible." Vanessa offered in her defense. "Maybe in a couple of years, it can happen."

"Maybe." Light turned and smiled at her. "I like it, myself. Sometimes we have to aim high, or else we'll never get to where we need to be." He pulled his hands back from the keyboard and turned to his screen. "Well, how does it look?"

Vanessa gave it an appraising glance. "What did you do?"

"Cleaned it up some." Light answered calmly. "I think I shaved off a few megabytes from the file size. It doesn't solve your initial problem…but it'll make my life easier when I'm staring at it later."

"Just what made you think you could help us out with this?" The technician asked, accepting the portable drive back from Dr. Light when he saved the code to his hard disk. "I mean, now I can see that you're doing just fine, but…"

"I didn't." Light interrupted.

"…What?"

He stood up and put his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, giving her a shrug. "I didn't know if I could, but I was willing to give it a try."

"Why? To impress Dr. Wily?"

"No." Light answered, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I did it so that I'd have a chance to see you again."

"I already told you, I'm not…"

"Interested, yes, I know." He sighed. "Look. There's no hiding the fact that I'm attracted to you, so I won't bother. But just remember, I can push that aside. If I've learned one thing about women, it's that it's better to have them as a friend than to lose them in a relationship."

"So why bring me here, if you knew that?"

"Because something's been rubbing me the wrong way since I walked into your department this morning." He shot back. "Why does Wily hate you so much?"

She winced, turning about and walking away a few feet to consider her answer. "He's not a bad man. He's just a genius when it comes to robotics, and he expects everybody else to be one too."

"I didn't ask what he was like." Thomas reminded her. "I asked you why he hated you."

"He doesn't hate me."

"Fine, then. Why does he dislike you?" He corrected himself, rolling his eyes.

"I…" She paused for a moment, considering the answer. "A year ago, we were working on another one of his projects. A big one; a self-operating deep sea drone. It was going to win us the Contest. I was in charge of doing the final performance checks on the unit. Everything seemed to be running perfectly, and our trial was going beyond our expectations. Then all of a sudden, it just froze up, overheated, and sank like a stone. We lost that year, and when we dragged it up from the seabed, Wily found out why." She bit her lip, pained at the memory. "We hadn't refilled its oil. It literally burned out its motor from friction, and took all the other electronics with it. I wasn't the one who'd forgotten to top off the submersible's fluids, but I was the one who'd been made responsible for the final check…and I hadn't caught it."

"He blamed you."

"It was stupid." Vanessa blurted out, turning on him with more anger than he'd expected. "It was so simple. A half a million dollars worth of equipment on that thing, and I forgot to check the damn oil!"

"You made a mistake. They happen." Light said, trying to calm her down.

Vanessa shook her head. "Not with Wily. He doesn't tolerate mistakes."

"Still, he shouldn't treat you so terribly." Light protested.

Vanessa gave him a weak smile, the vengeful fire gone and replaced with quiet shame. "You're sweet, Tom. Too sweet for this place."

Before he could ask her what she meant by that tired statement, she turned about and dashed for the door.

He scratched his head for a bit, then stared down at the screen of open code that she'd left him.

It would take some doing, but he imagined that a few days of his off-time would bring the project to a positive end.

"Robots." He mumbled, sinking into his chair and staring at the code.

His hand went to the mouse, bringing up his first window of programming language which was, for lack of a better word, his life's work.

"Networks."

Each had their own distinctive ring, and it plagued him. He knew plenty about the second, and not nearly enough of the first. Somehow, though, the two weren't entirely dissimilar. In another time, perhaps…

He shook it off. It was hard to think on those lines while he fretted about Vanessa Tercel, who was so intent on punishing herself for such an innocent mistake that it boggled his mind.

It was hard to think about either project, while his worry for Vanessa kept him from rational thought. In the end, it had to be love, for nothing else could destroy a man so utterly as love. He couldn't recall where he'd heard it; some author in passing, perhaps, or something that he'd heard someone close to him say once.

What he did have, if not an understanding of why his mind was so scattered, was an insight and approach that came from his genius. It brought an idea to the forefold, and he smiled and grinned as it all unfolded within a few seconds.

"Oh, you son of a bitch." He grinned to himself. Beginning to whistle in time with the jazz music that piped in from the background of his lab, he closed the code that Vanessa had given him. "What she's missing is confidence. And nobody can give that to her, so she has to earn it."

And she'll earn it…by solving a puzzle that even I "Couldn't solve." You are one devious fellow, Tee X.L.

The band hit the melody again, and he whistled in gusto with it, turning back to his own work with a lightened heart and a freed mind. Now that he knew what he had to do, he could get back to work.

It felt good to be a Doctor.


The Robotics Department

National Institute of the Sciences

5:45 P.M.

Nearly everybody was making moves to pack up and go home; they'd put in a full day, after all. Wily was amazed to find that only one of his technicians had yet to even begin closing down their station.

It merited a look.

He pushed back his black hair, reminding himself once again of the bald spot that seemed to grow every year, and stepped towards the space inhabited by Vanessa Tercel. "Working late tonight?"

She froze at her typing, then looked up. Wily gave her a scrutinizing glance, waiting for a response. "I just thought I'd check on a few things for tomorrow."

"I see." Wily murmured, no trace of friendliness in his voice. "So, how did it go with Light this afternoon? You came back in such a rush, after all."

"He said it would take him a while to look through the code."

Wily shrugged. "Well, if he wants to waste his time on a hopeless project, that's his prerogative. We have a project to finish up for the Contest. Did you learn anything about him?"

Vanessa blinked. "You asked me to go and deliver the programming code to him."

"Yes, but I also assumed he'd make some passing attempt at small talk." Wily added, losing his patience. "What sort of a man is he?"

Vanessa Tercel realized at last why he'd sent her; as a spy. It was apparently the only thing he thought her worthy of doing any longer. Crestfallen, she lowered her head and spoke. "He's…just a dreamer." It was the truth, even if a formerly unrecognized pang of guilt ran through her. She paused for a moment before speaking again to ease her conscience. "He's smart, but I don't know if his ideas are plausible."

"A dreamer?" Wily murmured, rolling his mustache. "Das ist gut, ja. There's intelligence to him…but he's going to waste it, if that's his course." The 'mad scientist' of the Institute gave his shoulders a shrug. "Hm. I'm partially relieved and partially saddened."

"That's an odd combination." Vanessa said accusingly, beginning to shut down her work for the night. Wily, as always, was beginning to grate on her nerves; she could think of better things to do than be grilled by him.

"But an honest one." Albert William Wily elaborated, grim in a worldly sense. "Dreamers spend all their time coming up with ideas that don't make sense, and nobody will ever pay for. Kind of like your proposal this morning, Miss Tercel. I'd take Dr. Light as an example of what not to become."

"Aren't we here to make a difference?"

"Somewhat." Wily said, shrugging again. "But we always have to keep ourselves in check within the boundaries of feasibility…and public opinion. Our first responsibility is always to our own careers."

"So you're relieved, because you think his career is over before it began?" She accused him, switching off the power to her station.

"This world is connected enough." Wily chuckled. "I don't know what Light expects to accomplish, but we never needed a communications department before. Yes, I'm relieved. He isn't a threat to our work here…or to our hopes at the Contest." The way he phrased the final portion of his sentence, combined with the glower he leveled left no room for misinterpretation. Silently, he had inferred, Unlike you.

Vanessa clenched her jaw to still the angry tears. "If you're done, I'd like to get home."

Wily held his hands out to the side. "Am I keeping you here? Go on. You've done what I asked you to do without screwing up. I prefer to end on a happy note."

She looked around; everybody else was gone, and it was only her and Wily, the department head, who remained behind. She drew up her courage and finally confronted him; perhaps her time with Thomas Light had caused some of his charm to rub off. A spark of defiance inside her, forgotten for months, struggled to rise again.

"Doctor?"

He sighed. "Vas?"

"Why won't you stop mistrusting me? I learned from my mistake, and I've worked harder ever since."

He shrugged, unfazed by her plea for respect. "I also said that I was partially saddened when you told me what kind of a man Doctor Light was like. I've heard of him; he's brilliant, in his own way. It would have been nice if he and I could have worked together…Somehow I think that whatever we decided to create, in unison, could be grander than anything yet devised." The mad scientist gave off a sad smile and shrugged. "But dreamers don't last long in the Institute. They come and go, and I've watched them do it a dozen times over."

He looked at her again, wistfulness replaced with a grim stare. "That's why I don't trust you, Vanessa. It's because for all the growth you've made since your unforgivable lapse in judgment, you're still a dreamer at heart."

The tears she'd been suppressing for too long finally swelled out. She excused herself in a shaky voice and ran, eyes moist before she could escape the (Still broken) glass doors of the robotics laboratory.

Wily took a look about the empty space, considering the day's events with his analytical mind. Without the human presence of his comrades, it had a very lifeless and sterile appearance. He sighed and walked over to his coat rack, exchanging his white smock for a black overcoat and a purple and golden scarf.

"There's no room for dreamers in this world." He remarked, perhaps as much for his own ears for the ghosts of Vanessa and Thomas Light which lingered in his thoughts. At times, he lived a very lonely life; he was dedicated to his work, and only his work.

Most days, though, he didn't let such thoughts bother him. He preferred a life without voices or lingering doubts to plague his thoughts.

That was why the silence of his quiet laboratory didn't faze him, even when he turned off the lights and left through the shattered doors.

He was a man that few understood.

Walking into the early night, Dr. Albert William Wily found no reason to be ashamed of that.


The Apartment of Dr. Thomas Light

Just outside Redmond, Washington

May 20th, 2039 C.E.

8:43 P.M.

Dinner had been light; he'd visited a quaint little bistro downtown on the advice of Director Simdorn, and had a salad with an olive oil vinaigrette. Anymore, the prices on nearly everything was becoming somewhere between outlandish and outrageous. Most economic forecasts said it would only get worse.

Oil, of course, which had (much to the shame of the last half-century's laziness) been the lifeblood of the world's nations, was also highly priced as reserves everywhere depleted. It was the main reason, outside of any obscure romantic notions of a rogue on the highway, why Light drove a motorcycle. His only seated a maximum of two, but it got great mileage.

With a sigh of well-earned exhaustion, Light stepped through the door to his new home and dropped his keys on the nightstand next to his entryway. "Hell of a day." He mused aloud, pulling off his jacket and throwing his sunglasses atop the pile of black leather.

He would later speak of the coincidence, but his cellular phone rang, chirping out a multichannel rendition of "Here comes the bride." Light cracked a smile, because he'd only just reprogrammed the ringtone two days ago. It was exceptionally good timing on their part as well. He'd wondered how those two had been doing.

He dug into the interior pocket of his discarded jacket and flipped the device open. "So who do I have? Rick or Lisa?"

There was a pause for a moment, followed by the short guffaw from Rick Williamson, his longtime friend and part-time drinking buddy. "Damn, Light, it's good to hear your voice."

"Good to hear yours too, my friend." Dr. Light smiled, retreating back into the always present and always cheerful persona of Tom. "So how are you and Lisa doing these days?"

"Oh, she's always fidgeting with the marriage arrangements. Speaking of which, we moved the date back."

"Oh, you're not doing it in August now?"

"We're going to save up some money for it first; But don't worry too much. Waiting a year before the ceremony isn't going to kill us. We'd just prefer not to go into debt any more than College already has."

"Amen to that." Tom grinned, walking over to the sliding glass door from his living room. He pulled the curtains open and looked outside; it was a wonderful night, and his choice to choose a residence off of the beaten path had paid off. If he looked one direction, he could see the glimmering lights of Redmond. In another, he only saw the darkness of a still very free and open Pacific Northwest. It was a good mix, and a good place; caught between civilization and the open country which still remained a part of his whimsical dreams, Light found his balance. "I assume I'm still your best man, though?"

"I wouldn't trust anybody else to keep me from making a fool of myself. Besides, who else can give an invocational speech at the reception in fifteen different languages?"

Tom grinned a bit at that and maneuvered towards his bedroom. "Good point. How's the job treating you?"

"Oh, decent, decent. No complaints." Rick mused. "Nowhere near as exciting as what you must be doing. Mr. high and mighty, working at the National freaking Institute! Have you come up with any brilliant ideas yet?"

"Always." Tom smiled, knowing that Rick could sense it over their connection. "Also, my boss has to repeat every bleeding thing he says twice, and my next door neighbor is affectionately known as the mad scientist."

"…Serious? The place sounds like a madhouse."

"What can I say, Rick? The place is full of geniuses. And geniuses are nuts."

"You know, that explains so much about you?"

"Oh, come off it. I'm no genius."

"Bulll-shit." Rick snorted. "So you've got a few nutballs, eh?"

"They're not bad people. They're just interesting."

"Well, is there anybody in that place who's normal?"

Tom considered it for a moment, lying back on his mattress and letting out a long sigh. He stretched his free arm up above his head and rested his knuckles against the headboard. "Maybe. There's this one girl in the robotics department…"

"Oh-ho." Rick said teasingly. "Someone I should know about?"

"I don't know." Tom muttered dismissively. "She says she'd prefer to keep to herself. And she's been hurt."

"By other men?"

"No. She's just had her confidence wrecked, and it's dragged the rest of her down with it."

"Geez. Sounds like a real hard case to crack, buddy. Sure you don't want to move on and just keep that one as somebody you talk with over the water cooler?"

"Maybe." Tom mused, a twinkle in his left blue eye. He stretched out for a bit longer, then smiled again. "But as I recall, a certain girl you're planning to marry once thought you were annoying as Hell."

"She still does." Rick chuckled. "She says sometimes that she's marrying me just to see if I'm less annoying when she has total dominance over my life."

"Anything's possible." Light admitted, sharing in the joke.

There was silence for a span of five seconds before Light sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "All I know, Rick, is that I'd do anything to see her smile."

The line was quiet for a bit, and when Rick spoke, it was with an amazed concern. "Tom, if I didn't know better, I could swear you've already fallen head over heels for her."

"Maybe I have, Rick." Tom sighed, and the vision of her dazzling green eyes and her blond hair stretched over them lingered in his memory. "And maybe that's not such a bad thing after all."

"You have pretty big dreams, Tom. You always have."

"Good thing, too." Thomas Light mused, feeling sleep fast approaching. "This world needs them."

Rick offered no counterargument, and they closed the conversation soon after. He undressed and switched out for a pair of his gray sleeping shorts and a loose white T-Shirt, then sank into the covers and was snoring softly in fifteen minutes.

That night, he dreamed of Vanessa.

He dreamed of her smiling and laughing…because of him.