We quickly scampered back to the Carmichael's room and collected the folder of essays. By the time we made it out to the bus stop, my knees were shaking. We stood there holding each other still in the intensity of the moment. Cameron looks up at me and says softly, "You did all that for me?"

I consider a moment, and answer softly, "For you and Jordan and all the other girls. Maybe there won't be any more."

"I meant the bit with the mannequin and Sarah's bikini." Cameron smiles; the smile doesn't quite make it all the way to her eyes, but it still looks real to me. And then it does reach her eyes.

I crane my neck back a bit so that I could look into her eyes. She seems so small and frail. No one would guess that before Monday, she and I would go toe to toe with an 800 Series and win. "Oh, year, definitely." I touched her lips with the index finger of my right hand. "No one's first kiss should be embarrassing, humiliating and degrading."

"Not even a Machine-girl?" She asks.

"Not even a Machine-girl." I answer, believing myself, hoping its true, hoping Cameron believes me. I continue trying to reassure myself as much as her, "No one should have to endure what Jordan and those other girls did, not even a Machine-girl."

"You treat me like I'm a person." Cameron whispers in my ear. Then she leans back, still holding me, holding her, and flashes me the thousand watt smile. She pulls herself close again and whispers once more, "Sarah treats me like a tool."

"Well," I look into her eyes again and she holds my gaze, "I spend a lot more time with you in public social situations."

"No, no," she leans back and looks into my eyes, "even on the missions in the resistance house and at your Mom's place when no one else is there, you treat me like a person there, too."

"It's about respect." I say. Which is true as far as it goes. "Regardless of whether we are based on carbon, or silicon we deserve equal respect and consideration." I do feel that way.

"Bob Balaban as Dr. Chandra in the movie '2010: the Year We Make Contact,' Cameron attributes my quite again. Then she continues, "Yes. I agree with that," in a flat tone. "But John," now she puts some gentle feeling into her speech, "there's more than just that. Isn't there?" I pull us close. "You need to say it out loud. So I can hear it."

We stand there still holding each other. I'm starting to feel self-conscious, but this has some how morphed from the shocking and confrontational thing with Carmichael into something tender just between Cameron and me. That time of confrontation ended and one of those perfect moments has begun. Somehow I know to let it last until it's over. "I see you as the person you can become, if I just help you along. My mother only sees the killing-machine she thinks you were before you came to us. But me," I lean toward her ear and whisper conspiratorially, "I'm not convinced you were ever a garden-variety, off the shelf Terminator."

"Told you I was special," she sniffles and looks up into my face. Her eyes are leaking.

"You weren't kidding. You can cry." I say with a mix of astonishment and tenderness.

"What's this stuff in my nose?" She wipes it on her arm warmer.

"I forget the real word for it, but most teenagers call it snot." We start to lean back from each other.

She twists her face around as though she's processing something. Then we ask each other if we're okay and step apart. Her hand lingers in mine several beats longer than it needs to. And then the moment is over. We smile at each other. God I wish I could have been this cool with other girls. I mean real girls. Achh. I don't know what I mean.

The city bus comes. We get on the city bus. I have to get the camera back to Circuit City for a refund. I can barely afford the data stick with the recording of Carmichael on it.

I pull out my lap top and my interview notes and try to start writing Jordan's article. I borrow some of the energy from that perfect moment with Cameron to fuel the article. I want the memorial to be a universal perfect moment for everyone who reads it.

While I'm working Cameron gets a text message. "It's from Sarah. She's going to work a double today."

"She must not want to talk to either of us about burning that Andy-guy's chess computer." I say without looking up from my writing.

"It would be simpler if we just killed him." Cameron says.

"Yeah, but we gave a scum like Carmichael a chance to redeem himself. So a nice guy like Andy should get at least that much."

"You gave it to Carmichael. I wanted to kill him, too."

"Sometimes, you can turn an enemy into an ally." I say still writing

"Is that what you're doing with me?" she sounds so earnest.

I take Cameron's hand and look up from my writing. "Yeah." I look sad for a moment, "but that's only the beginning. Sometimes an ally will become a friend." I look at her with a mixture of sadness and hope. Then I look away. I start to let go of her hand, but she holds on to mine gently a few beats longer than necessary. God I hope, I'm not wrong about Cameron. If she turns out to be just a soulless Machine, then I am the stupidest, most pathetic guy on the planet.

She squeezes my hand and puts it up on my chest. "You're not." She slowly lets go of my hand and holds my eyes as she moves away so that she can lean into my space and somehow as I look into her eyes I see…what do I see?

I table that thought and hope that I didn't say out loud what I just thought about myself before that, "I'm not what?" I ask her trying to act innocent.

"I remember that look from the future," Cameron begins with little emotion. But as she speaks she puts more and more feeling and emphasis into her words. "You get that look before risky, daring Missions, where you risk nearly everything. But only your top people ever see it. And your daring, desperate plans being executed by highly motivated people who believe in themselves because you believed in them first…They do the impossible." Now somehow she's the one trying to guide me, trying to somehow help me become the man she remembers. "You aren't stupid or pathetic, not then, not now. And I…" She starts to say something else. But the words get caught in her throat.

I wait a beat. Two beats. "Does that mean you're one of my top people in the future?" I ask daring to hope against hope.

"Maybe. Or maybe it just means that I can see through walls." I'm looking at her but my eyes are closed and, I swear, I can hear the warmth and the smile in her voice. Then she jerks away and I open my eyes to see her looking around "We just missed our stop." Another Zen moment over? We reach for the bell cord together, holding each other's eyes. I know I'm hoping for the same electric feeling as before. I think I see that in her face, too. Our hands touch. The bell goes ding. And then the moment ends.

Later at the Cowans' house, I show them the article. It's beautiful and perfect. Just like the moments I shared with Cameron while I was writing it. It leaves them feeling warm, and just bit sad for the promising life, extinguished before its time.

"This is genius, Mr. Baum," says Jordan's dad.

"I love it," says her mom.

"How did you do this, capture who she was to each person and sum up all the lost potential, yet still leave us with a feeling of wonder and hope?" Jordan's dad forms the question slowly pouring emotion into each syllable. He's reaching for something.

"I … don' –" I'm searching for the words.

Cameron fills in for me complete deadpan, "He wrote it on his laptop on the city bus."

"I had help." I look at Cameron and smile. "I had a lot of help."

Mrs. Cowan shows Cameron out and I stay back with Mr. Cowan for just a moment. I hold up the data stick from the camera. "I have a copy of this on my computer. Cameron and I found the guy who was mistreating your daughter. If you want justice, you can use this video to get it."

"Why are you giving the video stick to me?" Mr. Cowan asks

"Mr. Cowan, I'm just a high school student. That is way too big for me. Watch the video. It's uncut and unedited. Then do what you think is just."

As we wait for the bus, I ask Cameron, "If you spent so much time with me and my team in the future, why are just now learning how not be clunky and awkward?"

"I can't tell you that yet, John." She looks up at me and puts on finger on my lips. "But I will tell you when I can."