"All I did," hissed the old woman on the screen, "was imagine a world where man and machine could live and laugh together in harmony."

"Harmony. You call this harmony." The man in the suit yanked her handcuffs forward. "Very funny."

"Sir, I began my career at four years old. Suffice to say I took these things for granted. How was I supposed to know it would turn out like this?"

"You started a world war, Professor Shinonome, whether you knew it or not. Millions are dead because of your inventions. So, you see, it really doesn't matter how brilliant a little girl you think you were."

"Isn't that all we ever do here? Use inventions to kill? Look at yourself. Even now, you're exploiting the invention of social hierarchy to kill a defenseless old—"

"The military fights wars, Shinonome, but we don't start them." The man's face was seething with rage now. "We only do what's necessary for the public good. And today, it's necessary that you depart from—that you die as soon as possible." The old woman fell silent. "I'm sorry," conceded the man. "But it's the only way."

The screen suddenly froze. Java was disjointed for a moment, but shook off the shock and gathered his bearings. He heard a familiar self-satisfied voice behind him: "Yes, yes, it's all so fascinating, isn't it? Very interesting, an absolutely enthralling glimpse into history."

"Sir, Colonel Razor, sir." Java quietly stood up and saluted.

Colonel Razor waved his remote at the screen. "I didn't call you here for a movie marathon, Mr. Eight-Zero-Six." The Colonel always called his subordinates by their model numbers. Java supposed it was one of the many formal old-timey mannerisms the Colonel kept to make himself look more official, and really couldn't have less to do with whoever bore the brunt of it. Nevertheless, Java could never help but be somewhat offended whenever he heard that complacent call of "Eight-Zero-Six." It was like a wrenching reminder of what he really was. A number. Just a part of the system, an abstract concept to be deployed and disposed of at will.

Colonel Razor looked at Java as if he had a microbot on his face. He sighed. "You're hopeless." The Colonel said that kind of thing a lot. He rewinded the tape and sat down next to Java. "See for yourself, soldier." Java shifted away a bit.

"All I did," hissed the old woman again, "was imagine a world where man and machine could live and laugh together in harmony." The frame froze.

"Get it? Got it? Good." The Colonel clanked his gun in his claw like cut-print-wrap. "Now, bring her to me."

Java stared. "Sir." He tried his hardest not to sound as if he were speaking to a newbuilt. "Professor Shinonome has been dead for hundreds of years."

"Not the old lady, you imbecile." Colonel Razor slapped Java in the core with the back of his claw. Java knew the motion from his mandatory human culture studies. It was a gesture that had been used in an ancient Japanese comedy routine known as "manzai" to denote exasperation, especially on the part of the "tsukkomi," a level-headed character, in response to the "boke," a ridiculous character. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to laugh or apologize. The only ridiculous character he could see in the room was Colonel Razor.

Besides which, the old lady was the only "her" Java had seen in the video at all. "Sir, I beg your pardon—"

"Well, you may not have it." The Colonel repeated the slapping gesture. This time it hurt. He sighed. "Feh. You're hopeless." Java was starting to get sick of his job. Colonel Razor rewound the tape again.

"All I did," hissed the old woman again, but she stopped and started to twitch. Colonel Razor was repeatedly skipping over the section. "All I—All I did," she repeated, "was imagine a—imagine a world—was imagine a world…" In time with the skips, there was a gray blob dancing in the background, behind a wall. "All I did—a world where man and machine could—" The frame froze.

"Look there, boy." Colonel Razor pointed where the gray blob had been.

Java was in awe. "M—My apologies, sir." At some point in the beginning of the video, the blob had emerged from behind the wall and fully into the backdrop, revealing itself to be none other than a young girl, probably high school age. She was a bit blurry from so far away, but Java could make out that she had dark hair, a skirt, and a baby blue sweatshirt jacket.

"Apologies are a waste of time," spat the Colonel. "Keep watching."

"—could live and laugh together in harmony," finished the old woman. Colonel Razor paused the video again. The high school girl had come the rest of the way out from behind the wall.

"You're one of our best bots, Eight-Oh-Six. I thought you of all people would have picked up on this, but apparently I have to break it down for you." Java hung his head in shame. "See here? See the propeller on her back?"

Java peeked his head up out of his guilty stupor to look. "Sir, I see it clear as day, sir." Truthfully, it looked more like a windup key than a propeller, but it didn't seem his place to say so.

"And just what do you think that means, soldier?" Colonel Razor loudly demanded. His voice drove Java down into the corner of his seat.

Java shivered. "Th—Th—That she's one of us, sir. I—I think." Of course, he knew it was the right answer—though admittedly it was a bit hard to tell, since her coating so closely mimicked a human skin—but he also knew that when the Colonel got like this, one wrong move could get a poor bot fired. And when it came to people like the Colonel, "wrong" didn't just mean incorrect.

Colonel Razor cleared his throat. "Yes, yes, correct, well done and all that." He rewinded the video, let it play again, and paused it at the same spot. "There. That frame. Did you see the way she walked in?" The girl had walked into view in a curled, self-conscious posture, with her hands making a futile attempt to cover the key in her back, as though she were ashamed of it.

Java whirred and clicked as he tried to understand. "Sir, is this… uh, significant… in some way?" Colonel Razor slapped him in the core again. Java doubled over.

"Eight-Oh-Six, I swear. Would you please just take this seriously for two ticks?" Java was probably taking it more seriously than the Colonel was. Of course, he was only guessing at that. One never knew with the Colonel.

"Idiot!" continued Colonel Razor. "Of course it's significant. Who do we know who walks like that?" Java thought. He had never met anyone of the sort. He had certainly never met anyone with a human skin and a windup key sticking out of her back. The girl must have been a first-generation make, or even older.

Colonel Razor threw his arms up in the air. "Ugh, I give in." He stood up from the couch and started toward the door. "Just bring me the girl," he called behind him. "Figure it out yourself. I'll be in my office, trying to recover from any processor damage I may have suffered from having to listen to your stupidUgh!" He kicked a tin can into the ceiling on his way out. Java had hardly said anything throughout the exchange, much less anything quite too stupid. He huffed and adjusted his posture in his seat. He turned off the television and sat for a moment in contemplation. He supposed he had a job to do.