MEGA MAN: GUIDING RAINBOW'S LIGHT
By Eric "Erico" Lawson
CHAPTER 10: GODS AND PUPPETS
"The greatest use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it."
-William James
"Everything that is really great and inspiring is created by the individual who can labor in freedom." -Albert Einstein
From the Diary of Dr. Thomas X. Light
August 23rd, 2052 C.E.
We really had no way of knowing how wildly successful LightTech Industries would become, two years ago. Then again, the world hadn't predicted how successful Hyrmue's Treeborgs would become, and now he's the British saint. Even though Albert and I still work for the Second Rainbow, our 'side business' has really started turning a profit.
The EDY series, which was just chickenscratch on a blueprint when Al and I founded LightTech, has been in production for a year now. It's a pretty simple little mechanoid, and its compact body and cartoonish design have been its major selling points. I have to give Albert the credit for those boggly oversized eyes; it's a throwback to a lot of the old animes he favored as a child. People seem to like them, though, so the Eddies can keep them.
The prototype, which I've taken to calling "Eddie", much to Albert's chagrin, has been staying with us in our laboratory. Though I know that neither can recognize the other on a fundamental level beyond their programming, I've grown used to thinking that Kay is glad to have a companion. Eddie, for his part, does even less than Kay does, except when ordered. Getting the voice recognition software to integrate with my translation matrix was the easy part; getting Eddie to understand orders has been a bit harder. The simple stuff, which is what his kind's being bought for, is easy. But Will and I don't deal in simple.
Cleanup continues worldwide. Things have really started to stabilize since the ozone layer was restored. There's an electricity (No pun intended) in the air, and the survivors of the Apocalypse are beginning to hope again. Food production's really taken off, and the physicist teams are cracking miracles. They've found a way to neutralize the lighter areas of radiation damage, and Hyrmue was quick to integrate the technology into his Treeborgs. Now those trees can suck out particles of radioactive dust from the air as easily as their needed carbon dioxide.
But the population's still a long ways from leveling out. We're still losing more people than we're getting back, and that makes the Reconstruction a very difficult process. It makes it all the more important that robots be used…and Albert and I intend to deliver.
Later this week, we'll be leaving for a conference in Colorado Springs. The United States is sponsoring a meeting of all the major robotics players in the field, and Al and I were invited to return. Neither of us have stepped foot in the continental U.S. in years…Me, since 2040 and in Albert's case, since he was released from his false charges.
Our plan is to introduce our next generation of robot, one sturdy enough to work in construction settings. We designed the new model to be more versatile than anything else yet, to work in conditions more extreme than the Kewbees were even designed for. Along with that versatility, though, we needed a new baseline operations code.
That's been the last eight months of my life. Building the operating system that will guide the Metal-Tool series. Albert's helped out some, but programming is my specialty, and by and large, he's left it up to me.
Today, I finally came clean with the program's inspiration for our next generation of robots. As predicted, Will was less than pleased…
Second Rainbow Headquarters, Alaska
3rd Division, 12th Unit
"Tom, let me just go on record by saying that this is a phenomenally odd idea." Dr. Wily began cautiously.
Within the robotics laboratory they called home at the SRHQ, the two old friends sat perched close to an odd robot barely a foot and three-quarters tall. It was painted red from head to toe like all the others of its kind, and was equipped with the same large shock-absorbent feet and hinged cylindrical head-body.
The difference was about to take hold because of a reformat.
"It will work, Albert." Dr. Light replied, plugging the connector from his programming computer to the squat-faced EDY unit. "We've made hundreds of these. They're out helping the Second Rainbow."
"You know bleeding well I wasn't talking about the thing's design." Albert snapped. "I realize that your skills with programming code are above reproach, but you're going to program a robot with those fictional Asimovian laws. Doesn't that seem a bit ridiculous?"
Dr. Light walked back to his computer with a smile on his face. The chrome blue Kewbee called Kay trotted over and stared at the smaller robot. "It only seems ridiculous because nobody ever tried to make the Laws of Robotics a reality. But it's very possible. Most of the framework and inter-relations in the program code was already thought out for me. By combining it with the concept of Friendly AI, we've got an operating system for our robots that will make them palatable to the rest of humanity."
"That still pisses me off." Wily snorted. "Humans corrupt them, and humanity still blames the robots. It's like treating an illness without addressing the cause!"
"Robots are more iconic." Light pointed out, typing in the last few instructions. "I'm almost ready here. If you can double check Eddie's power cell, I'll start the reformat."
Grumbling as he went, Wily dutifully lifted the Fliptop's lid and checked the diagnostics monitor on the underside. He snapped it back down and grunted. "We're still green. Do it if you're going to do it."
Light took in a deep breath. "Here goes nothing…" He muttered. One push of the return key set his computer monitor blazing with data.
Neither scientist said anything for the minute and a half that it took for the base program code, and the controlling Laws module, to complete its trek. The monitor of Light's computer finally chirped a happy message of completion, and Wily unplugged the connector cable from the Fliptop's I/O port.
Light got up from his seat and walked over next to Wily. He pulled a portable translator from his pocket, then nodded. "Okay. Start him up."
"It, Tom." Wily rebuffed him, reaching inside the robot's roomy interior for the power button. "Start IT up."
"Oh, you're still not harping about that old argument, are you?"
"Tom, because of you, the last surviving Kewbee is painted blue and has mistaken notions about an invisible phallus. I'm not going to have the next generation, programmed with a broader AI, suffer the same confusion!"
The two were so focused on each other that neither noticed Eddie powering up, opening its eyes, or even looking at them. It wasn't until the little fellow beeped a segment of digital binary that they refocuse. Wily blinked at it. The Fliptop closed, and opened its optics.
Wily stared down at Eddie, blinking. Eddie blinked back. "Uh…Tom? It blinked at me."
Light seemed pleasantly surprised. "He did? That's amazing! He duplicated your physical stimulus!"
"Wonderful. So it can imitate people." Wily rolled his eyes. "So why is he beeping?"
"He's not beeping, he's talking to us. That's binary code."
Wily let out a grunt. "You can understand that?"
"No." Light smiled, handing over his translator. "But this does."
Wily looked down at it, and read the message Light's device put out. What is my designation?
Before Albert could speak, Thomas put in his two cents. "Your name is Eddie. State your function."
The Fliptop buzzed a while longer, and Light's translator spouted out the reply. I am a minor gear transport robot.
Wily harrumphed. "Good so far. What else can it say?"
"Let's be sure it understands everything about its condition." Light stared into Eddie's eyes. "State the Three Laws."
A robot cannot harm, or through inaction, allow harm to come to a human being.
A robot must obey all orders given to it by a human being, unless this order would conflict with the First Law.
A robot must protect its own existence, unless such an action would conflict with the First Two Laws.
The two scientists beamed at each other, and Wily sighed and slapped Light on the back. "It looks like you pulled it off, sure shot."
Eddie looked up at them and beeped. Who are you?
"He can ask that question?"
Light chuckled at Wily's puzzled question. "He's just making sure who to listen to, Al. Eddie, I am Dr. Light. This is Dr. Wily beside me." Light motioned between them. "We are your creators."
Eddie blinked again. Understood. Eddie serves the creators. What are your orders?
"For now, power down." Light replied. Eddie beeped again, and drooped over as he shut down.
Wily gave Light the translator back and put his hands in the pocket of his lab coat. "He was awfully talkative. Will all the robots with your new programming act like that?"
"No. I don't think so." Light replied, scrolling through all of Eddie's remarks. "It caught me off guard, too…but we can probably attribute it to Eddie's long period of prior activation. Fragments left behind in his memory, that sort of thing."
"Is it dangerous?" Wily pressed worriedly.
Light thought about it, then shook his head. "No, I don't believe so."
"Tom…Christ. You always think the best about things."
"And you always believe the worst." Light smiled, picking up Eddie and carrying him over to a storage shelf. "It's why we get along so well. Between us, we almost make an entire person."
Wily scoffed, and folded his arms. "Listening to you talk, you make us sound like damaged goods."
"Aren't we?" Light posed, turning back around and addressing his friend with a quiet gaze. "There are some nights that I cry for Vanessa still…and the chip on your shoulder hasn't gotten any smaller, as much as you try to hide it." Wily narrowed his eyes, and Light prompted him further. "Are you going to be okay…heading back to the United States, after all these years?"
Dr. Wily reached a hand up and started to curl the end of his peppered gray and black mustache. "As far as I know, Alaska's still part of the United States, Thomas. In a sense, we never left." He rolled his eyes and looked away, snorting quietly. "Don't worry. I'll be just fine at the convention. I'm not there for the U.S, anyhow. I'm there to help the Second Rainbow help the world."
Knowing there was more under the surface, but glad that Wily had been able to mask it for the time being, Light smiled and looked over to their next project. "Nice to know you're keeping your priorities straight." Wily grunted, and Light walked over to another one of their worktables.
A prototype robot, or mechanoid, as Wily preferred, lay dormant and unprogrammed. It was a hollow shell, but Light stroked its helmeted head with a loving touch. "What do you think they'll make of our little Metal-Tool here?"
Wily looked at it, then up at Light, then back at the thing. He put on a bemused smile. "I think that they'll want a better name for it than Metal-Tool."
SRHQ Airfield
"Flight Six to Colorado Springs is now boarding at Gate two. Please have your Second Rainbow ID tags ready."
Light stood up and stretched out from his long sit in the waiting seats. "Yunnnh. Guess it's that time."
Wily, still sitting, looked up from a bit of paper he was folding into an intricate figurine. "Hm. If we must."
"What are you working on there?" Light asked, turning his head about for a better look. Wily held out the piece; a paper crane.
"Origami. It's not a bad way to waste time. Vinkus showed me how a few weeks back, but I think this is my first good one."
Light smiled. "It looks pretty well. You'll get better, I presume?"
Wily blinked. "Now why would I waste time getting better at something I've mastered?"
"Because, if you can make another 999 of those things, then you will have good luck for the rest of your life."
Wily snorted and stuffed the paper crane into an outside pocket of his lab coat. "I make my own luck." He hoisted his bag and looked out the window. "Glorious. They're going to stuff us on an old cargo plane, Tom."
"We've ridden in them before. That's nothing new."
"And you don't think we deserve better?"
"I think the both of you deserve a flying palace, but we work with what we have." Oliver Xanthos called out to them. Light and Wily turned, and the elusive philanthropist smiled and walked the rest of the way towards them. "You two were just going to take off without stopping to say goodbye?"
"This isn't like our last trip out, Oliver." Dr. Light reminded their enigmatic drinking buddy. "The conference is only going to last for two days. Our presentation is the last one on the docket."
Xanthos shrugged amiably. "Well, don't carouse too much. I hear they're putting you up at that new Conference Center they built last year. It's got its own hotel, thirty floors high. I normally would object to it as flaunting, but…fact is, Colorado Springs is a centerpoint for the Restoration efforts in the western United States."
"See what happens when a state doesn't get nuked?" Wily mused aloud. "They turn it into a resort."
"And the nexus point for the Second Rainbow's efforts, remember." Light reminded his acerbic cohort.
Wily snorted and crossed his arms. "So, Xanthos. You came here all by yourself? I would have expected your she-hulk to be following in your shadow."
Xanthos's smile thinned a bit. "You know, that hurts Miss Bravewind's feelings when you say that. Isn't that right, Jessica?"
A woman appeared behind Wily without any sound at all until she leaned her head to Albert's ear. "I'm heartbroken."
"Gyuh!" Wily screamed, leaping away. Jessica righted herself and smirked at the roboticist.
"He remembers me."
"Naturally, my dear. You're very easy on the eyes." Oliver chuckled. He looked over to Light and exhaled. "Now, then. There was a reason I wanted to speak with you. In my country, it's customary to bestow a good luck charm to sailors going out on voyage…It is a way to ensure their safe return from the domain of Poseidon."
Xanthos produced two small medallions, each bearing an engraving of the Greek flag in their silver surfaces. A thin strap of leather was slipped through the fastening loop. "If I may?" He asked. The two scientists nodded and lowered over a bit, allowing the middle-aged Grecian to place the medallions around their necks.
Light stood back up and fingered his. "It's nice…a little over the top for a Tchatchke, though."
"It's more than a token of my esteem." Mr. Xanthos announced, gaining a serious tone to his voice. "Those two baubles are more important than you know. In my entire life, I don't think I've given out more than six of them—yours included."
Wily held his up and stared at it closely. "What is it? Some sort of secret decoder ring?"
"Not exactly." Xanthos tucked his hands into his pockets. "It's a miniature transceiver. You have to depress the flag for two seconds before it will activate."
Light laughed. "What, is it some kind of an emergency beacon?"
Xanthos didn't crack a smile, and Light sobered up. "You're serious."
"If you push that, it will start broadcasting a distress signal."
"Now hold on a minute here." Light protested. "We're not walking into enemy territory. We're just going back home. Briefly. For a conference."
"On a topic that you two are considered to be among the foremost experts in, in a nation that once considered you liabilities."
"He's got a point there, Tom." Wily grumbled.
"Things are different now." Light exclaimed stubbornly. "Grevis was sent to prison. Latch sacrificed his life to make the truth of the Kewbees known. We're heroes. We were exonerated, fully and completely."
"All of that's true." Oliver agreed solemnly. "But all the same, it's there if you need it."
Light shook his head. "We won't need it." He vowed. He picked up his bag and headed for the exit terminal. "I'm going on ahead, Will. I'll see you on the flight."
Wily nodded, but lingered as Light ventured on ahead. After ten seconds, he looked to Xanthos, still fingering the medallion gift. "Thank you for the insurance."
"You two have earned it." Xanthos shrugged. "I'm not surprised that you reacted a bit differently than Thomas. You had the rougher ride."
"Sticks and stones." Wily harrumphed. He narrowed an eye. "No, what puzzles me right now is where you got the equipment to cobble this piece together."
Xanthos blinked, and stood inscrutably silent. Wily glanced over to Jessica, who watched him alertly, but more relaxed than when they had first met.
"If you ask me, Oliver, there's more to you than you like to let on."
"We all have our secrets, Dr. Wily." Xanthos answered.
"Yeah, that's true enough…but most billionaires don't have attractive assassins at their beck and call for their personal secretaries." Wily noted slyly. "So why now, do you give us this? What do you know?"
Oliver shrugged, looking innocent. "What would I know? I'm just a little paranoid. I want to make sure that you two make it back here safe and sound, is all."
"Purely charitable reasons, then?"
"Of course. What else would it be?"
Wily twirled one end of his mustache, then leaned down and hoisted his travel bag. "I can think of a few possibilities." Dr. Wily waved, turned around, and headed off to board the plane as well.
Oliver Xanthos chuckled as the morose engineer vanished. "He's a real pistol, that Wily."
"Sir, if I may make an observation…I think he has an idea of who you really are."
"Oh, I've no doubt he's got some guesses." Xanthos mused, turning around and heading back for the SRHQ proper. Jessica took up step behind him, and they plodded along at an easygoing gait. "But for right now, I'm just considering this as protecting my investments."
"You don't own LightTech."
"I wasn't talking about companies that time, Miss Bravewind." Mr. X smiled sadly, bowing his head. "I was talking about friends."
New Horizons Conference Center
Colorado Springs, Colorado
August 25th, 2052 C.E.
10:47 A.M.
Wily did not react with the same flair to Light's jovial suggestion that one might expect.
The balding scientist jerked his thumb to a plaque hung in the lobby entryway and rolled his eyes. "Tom, check-in isn't allowed for another ten minutes."
"Oh, pish posh. They can make an exception for us." Light countered ruefully. He walked up to the counter and dinged the bell, then looked over his shoulder. "Do you suppose they have room service here?"
"The world still isn't back on its feet yet, and you're worried about room service?" Wily feigned appalled shock. His counterpart picked up a folded cardboard setting and grinned, pointing to a few menu choices. Wily blinked. "Is that…Deep dish pizza?"
"I don't know. Are you going to quit your bitching?"
Wily rolled his eyes, sighed, and walked the rest of the way in, dragging their trolley cart of bags and boxes with them. "As long as you're paying."
"Done, but I get first pick of the beds."
A member of the staff appeared behind the front desk and nodded to them courteously. "May I help you?"
"Hope so." Dr. Light smiled. "I'm Thomas Light and this is Albert Wily. We're here for the robotics Conference?"
The young man blinked, then quickly typed in a few sentences to his computer. He paused for effect, then nodded. "Yes, I have you two in our registry. Checking in?"
"If it's all right, being as we're a little early." Light answered. The fellow smiled back and shook his head.
"They're mostly guidelines anyhow. We have a reservation up on the twenty-third floor for you two. You've got the rest of the day to relax, since the Conference doesn't start until tomorrow."
"Fantastic. That will give us time to settle in and prepare." Wily harrumphed, pulling the cart behind him. "Now, do you have a bellhop or somebody to get our bags and equipment upstairs, or was I going to have to do it all myself?"
"Don't worry, sir. I'll have someone take care of it." The fellow behind the counter rang the bell, and a more disheveled hotel employee came scurrying out. He grabbed the rolling cart of bags and crates a little rougher than he'd intended, and one of the boxes, about the size of a footstool, clattered to the floor. Wily and Light both cringed, but it was Albert's temper that showed through.
"Blast it, be careful! That's highly sensitive equipment!"
"Sorry, sir." The bellhop mumbled, blushing beet red as he stacked it back on.
"Relax, Will. That thing's packed in enough memory foam that you could drop it on Mars and it would be all right."
"Sure." Dr. Wily muttered, scratching at his ever increasing bald spot. Most of his hair had now fully parted and flattened off to the sides of his head, and the salt and pepper appearance was becoming more pronounced. "I'm just going to have to spend hours going over every connection and circuit to make sure it's fully functional."
"It'll be fine, Will." Light sighed, following the bellhop, Dr. Wily, and their cart towards the elevators. "We don't have to even be at the conference until tomorrow. Relax a bit today. You're so high strung right now, piano wire would be jealous."
After they got settled in, Light managed to get Wily to accede one small victory, getting the wild-haired roboticist to suit up and settle in for some hot tubbing. The pool area of the New Horizons hotel wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary thirteen years before, but in a world still fighting to survive, the ten person capacity spa and the smell of chlorine from the five foot deep pool beside it was a slice of heaven.
That didn't improve Wily's cheery disposition any, of course.
"You know, Tom, you're really starting to let yourself go." Albert complained, as his associate stepped into the whirlpool and displaced another three inches of water.
Dr. Light compressed his swimming trunks against his thighs to remove the air bubbles, ignored his now more apparent girth, and sat down on the bench opposite his partner in crime. "Just because I'm not on the Mahatma Gandhi plan like you are doesn't make me fat."
"No. Not using those muscles of yours as much as you used to makes you fat, and that pipe smoking habit of yours doesn't help."
"For your information, Al, Sherlock Holmes smoked."
"He was also a heroin addict." Wily countered, smirking to make the wisecrack evident. "I hope you don't take too much after the man."
Light sat back and began to close his eyes, until a distant sound at the far end of the hotel's pool area roused him. A new group of men ventured inside, towels in hand and swimming trunks on. "Al, I think we're going to have to tone it down a little bit. We've got company coming."
Dr. Wily lifted his head and squinted at the men. Two were young, and only one seemed to be around their age. "Hm. I think I sort of recognize one of them."
"Do you owe him money?"
A flashbulb clicked in Wily's mind, and his face clouded over. "I wish it was that simple."
The three men came over, two younger unknown ones and a weasely man in his thirties that Wily knew from somewhere. The smile on Wily's acquaintance was less than genuine.
"Well, well, well." The man mused aloud, rubbing at his chin. "Dr. Albert William Wily, as I live and breathe. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."
"Believe me, the feeling's mutual." Albert Wily answered grimly. He looked over to Light. "Tom, meet Stephen Wilcox. Wilcox, this is my friend, Dr. Thomas Light."
Light nodded, offering an uncomfortable, but pleasant smile. "I take it you two know each other then?"
Steve Wilcox smiled and took off his shirt before stepping into the hot tub. "Oh yes. For a time, I worked under Dr. Wily in the robotics department of the Institute. And then, after a while, I transferred out to the private sector."
"You didn't transfer out. I kicked you out." Wily growled, drumming his fingers on the edge of the hot tub. The other two men climbed in as well, putting their number at five.
Light sized the other two up…One had a rugged, weatherbeaten face while the other had a more pleasant, but naïve expression. "So how have you done since then? Still stepping over other people?" Wily continued.
Wilcox's smile faded a bit. "I see that prison didn't take away your venom any." Wily's eyes flashed menacingly, and Light quickly moved to intervene.
"All right, I think we've done enough reminiscing. Who are your two friends?" He glanced to the other two, smiling warmly.
Wilcox relaxed and leaned back. "Of course, how could I forget? Gentlemen, may I introduce Olaf Grigorsky of the Russian Republic, Associate Second Rainbow liaison, and Trenton Corbun?"
Trenton, the friendlier looking of the two, nodded his head. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you."
Olaf, the Russian, was more laconic in his greeting. "Hello, comrades." Olaf's voice was thickly accented, and his words carefully spoken. "Is good to soak."
"From Russia?" Dr. Light mused. "Isn't there somebody else from Russia in the Second Rainbow who works in robotics? Cossack?"
Olaf laughed, and his barrel chest rumbled against the bubbling waves. "Is Cossack in Second Rainbow, yes. But not like robots. Nyet. His son is robot engineer, training in my department."
"Yuri Cossack…" Wily thought aloud. "Yes, I remember him now. He's a physician, specializes in biological agents. Absolutely despises technology, blames it for most of the residual poisons and diseases left over from the Wars." He looked towards the ceiling as he spoke, becoming detached. "But his son's going against the grain, eh? Interesting…"
"Sergei is like Kalishnikov in Kopeks." Olaf rumbled. "Is very smart. Soon, will be little I can teach him."
Light laughed softly. "It takes all kinds. And what's your story, Mr. Corbun?"
"Loads of wonderful ideas, and a meltdown after every one." Corbun said bashfully. "My latest venture was a pruning robot for Treeborgs. A flaw in the production facility made my entire inventory useless."
"I remember hearing about that…" Light exclaimed, shifting his seat to escape a more annoying water jet aimed at his posterior. "The Auto-Gardener. They hacked clean through the trunks of the Treeborgs!"
"The sensor package was grossly misaligned." Corbun sighed. "That nearly wiped me out. But I'm still around, even if Home Machines Incorporated went belly-up."
"So what's next for you, then?" Wily asked.
Corbun shrugged. "Honestly, I don't really know. But here I am. I figure I at least owe it to myself to see what all's out there."
"Well, you'll certainly get the opportunity here." Wilcox pointed out. "Tomorrow, this conference center will be host to the greatest scientific minds who ever dreamed of automatons. I even hear that Ezriah Hyrmue himself is hosting a panel on alternative robotics applications."
"Is true that Doctors Wily and Light helped make Treeborgs?" Olaf interjected.
Wily offered a smug grin and bobbed his head. "It is. It made for a pretty decent vacation."
"That was a vacation?" Light questioned jokingly. "But Will's right. Hyrmue ended up buying our services while we were visiting our friend, Titus Grant."
"How much did he pay you?" Trenton Corbun prodded.
"He gave us a can of Colombian Premium dark roast." Light replied.
Corbun blinked. "You're joking."
Wily's stare offered no hint of mirth. "We don't joke about coffee."
Corbun shook his head and looked between them. "Unbelievable. The cyber-biological organism that saved the world…all for a cup of joe."
"More like 86 cups." Wily clarified.
"Would have been 90 if you didn't insist on coffee strong enough to peel paint all the time." Light stretched his arms up. "But, no, after the fact he ended up giving us a bit more thanks than that. Hyrmue gave us the loan to start up LightTech."
Wilcox smirked. "Honestly, Wily, that's the one thing that I never could understand. Why did you call the company LightTech? You could never stand to see anybody else's name above your own in the credits."
Wily started to bristle again, but recovered enough to give an answer that didn't end in swearing. "A deal Tom and I made. I came up with the Fliptops, so he got to name the company."
"You know, those Fliptops can be plenty handy to keep around, but they're not exactly the most impressive looking robot." Corbun mentioned offhandedly. "Why did you make them look so…so…"
"Cartoonish?" Light posed. Corbun nodded. "The world nearly wrote robots off forever because of what happened with the GAIDNs." Light explained. "Even though robots are sorely needed, if we didn't change their image, people would never use them. So, big googly eyes it was."
"Well, it must have worked." Corbun sighed. "What did LightTech pull down for profit last year? Two million?"
"Something like that." Light responded ambiguously. He held back the note that they'd ended up making closer to three million, with Fliptops permeating nearly every rebuilding crew on the planet. "But we'll talk more about the EDY units in our demonstration."
Wilcox grinned. "Have something new waiting in the wings, do you? We'd best keep on our toes, then. You're liable to steal the show."
"You're the only person I know who knows anything about stealing, Wilcox." Wily snapped.
Steve Wilcox blinked for a moment, and then gave Wily a withering death stare. "Well, it's lucky for me that you fired me when you did, then." He quipped hotly. "I never tried to get credit for creating those monsters of yours. The GAIDNs are your burden, and yours alone, old man."
Wily jerked upright from the hot tub, water tumbling from his shoulders. Wilcox stared up at him, his eyes daring the mad scientist to make a move. Wily broke off eye contact a few seconds later and shook his head. "You're not worth it, Wilcox."
He stormed up and out of the hot tub, grabbing his towel on the way out.
Light watched Wily depart for a moment, offered an apologetic shrug to Corbun and Grigorsky, then grabbed his own towel and ran after his partner.
They were out of the pool area and in the lobby before Wily finally listened to Light's frantic calls and slowed down. Light pulled up beside Wily, panting a bit. "You don't honestly believe that garbage he was feeding you, do you? You didn't make the GAIDNs. You made the Kewbees."
Wily offered a soft, bitter chuckle and ventured on, shaking his head. "Does it matter? They're one and the same. Worse…I can't hold Wilcox to the same chopping block anymore. Not without being a hypocrite."
"You? A hypocrite? Why?"
"Think, Tom." Wily muttered, guiding them towards the elevator. "The Kewbees won the contest…and it was your program, yours and Vanessa's, that helped it walk."
"Oh, Al, not this again…"
"I remember what you said to me." Wily interrupted, catching Light's eye warningly. "What you felt. I thought it was mine to use freely. You'd offered your help, and there it was. But I didn't ask to use it in the Kewbee. I should have, and I didn't, because I was smug enough to think that there was a difference between what I did and what Wilcox did. There isn't. But he's right. Even if I didn't turn them into the GAIDNs…their legacy is on my hands. That stain, no matter what public announcement is made or whatever anyone else ever says, will never go away."
"You're no murderer, Albert. You're no butcher."
"Is the man who makes the gun any less guilty than the person who pulls the trigger?" Dr. Wily posed grimly. He pushed the elevator button. "I still wrestle with it, Tom. There's nothing you can say to make me feel any better. All I can do now is try to make a difference…earn forgiveness for my transgressions through good works, to try and help a world I unwittingly caused the destruction of."
The elevator doors opened, and chimed softly. Wily stepped inside and moved to the panel, and Light came in after him.
Dr. Light pursed his lips and pressed a hand to the small medallion around his neck that Mr. Xanthos had given him. Wily, true to their promise, also hadn't stopped wearing his. "Will…you mentioned earlier that you fired Wilcox for stealing ideas. In your own fashion, of course."
"Yes." Wily said tonelessly.
"Just…Who did he hurt? Who did he step over in his ambitions that made you let him go?"
Wily shut his eyes and tilted his head back. The grimace he wore indicated a very painful memory.
"It was back in 2039. Before you showed up. We had brainstorming sessions at the robotics department, our way of butting heads and figuring out where we were going to put our energies. One time, Wilcox presented a project as his own…bionic legs for amputees. Fully functional ones."
Light's eyes widened in recognition. "Wait a minute. Are you talking about the same legs that Vanessa and I worked to get the code for?"
"One and the same." Wily exhaled. "I praised him at first, put him in charge of it. One person on my staff was seething, though. Wanted to quit. Almost did, until I got them to admit the truth. A quick look at the source file told the story, and I threw out Wilcox the next day."
"So he was a crook. There's lots of dishonest people in any scientific field."
"But not in my department. That's what steamed me." Wily tilted his head back down and stared to the elevator buttons. He pressed the switch for their floor, and the doors shut.
"So who was it, then? Whose idea did Wilcox steal?"
The elevator started to ascend, and Wily squeezed the ends of the towel around his neck. "That's another reason I'm still working off my sins, Tom. The bionic legs? That…was Vanessa Tercel's brainstorm."
Stunned, Light said nothing more for the ride up. Wily offered no further complaint. For the moment, they were synchronized…remembering a woman they had both known, and now caught up together in dislike for a man who had survived, when so many more decent people had perished.
They had brought along several crates of material, but there was one that Wily wished they could have left behind. As Wily busied himself making sure that they had everything they were going to need on the cart to be taken to the elevator and towards the conference halls, Light spent his precious time fiddling with Kay. The chrome blue Kewbee said little, only twisting its head about curiously as Light calmly repaired a malfunctioning servo.
"There you go. See? Right as rain. You just needed a little lubricant, was all." Light smiled and patted the robot on the head before pulling the grease gun back. "Operating Command: Go to closet and power down."
Kay thought about the request for a moment, then calmly shuffled to the hotel room's coat closet, reverted to quadruped form, and settled down on its haunches. The distinctive blue hue of its optics flickered off, and the room was quiet again.
Wily grunted, not looking up from their newest prototype, and his own pride and joy. "Tom, you should have scrapped that years ago."
"So you keep reminding me." Dr. Light shrugged, putting his grease gun back into his equipment bag. "But he's more than the sole Kewbee left in existence, to my knowledge…He's a reminder of what we once had. And in a way, he's also my good luck charm."
"You're a strange guy to understand sometimes, Tom."
"I'm a dreamer and an optimist." Dr. Light replied, offering a quiet smile. "Once you understand that, everything else makes sense." He walked over to Wily and hefted some more necessary equipment onto their cart. "You know, I just thought of something, Will."
"What's that?"
"We're both 39 years old now. Won't be much longer, and then…well, we'll both finally be over the hill."
"Don't remind me." Wily said, sounding miserable all of a sudden. "I spent my best years rotting in a cell, and you spent yours playing Paul Bunyan."
"I'd like to think our best years are still ahead of us."
"They'd better be." Wily agreed curtly, closing the lid on their prototype's case and putting it on the cart. "Our Round Table still has empty seats."
August 26th, 2052 C.E.
8:32 A.M.
"All delegates must be registered. Please see the welcome desk and display at the entrance of the Saratoga Hall for registration and your nametag. All delegates…."
Out at the welcome desk of the conference center's main hall, Light calmly affixed his own nametag to the lapel of his white lab coat. Wily, similarly adorned, scowled. "As if anybody doesn't know who we are. This is ridiculous."
"Procedures, Albert." Dr. Light reminded his counterpart in a soothing tone. He offered an apologetic shrug to the woman on duty, and she smiled knowingly and turned to another technician who came up. "Come on, let's move on in, shall we?"
"If we must." Wily grumbled, and followed Light's lead, dragging their cart behind them.
Once they were inside, a subtle change fell over Wily. As they ventured into a pavilion of booths and curio stands set up by people from all over the world, his scowl eased up, his mustache twitched a little less, and a glimmer began to shine in his eyes.
Dr. Light looked over, smiled broadly, and set a hand on Wily's shoulder. "It's sort of like Christmas morning, eh?"
"Vas?" Wily replied in German, before he could catch himself. He shook his head and found a more suitable answer. "Not really, no. It's just a robotics conference."
Light harrumphed to hide a giggle. "Sure it is. Never mind the fact you're glowing like a kid in a candy store."
Wily sighed and bowed his head. "Am I that obvious?"
"We can't keep secrets from each other very well anymore." Light answered. "Friends really can't hide much, after all."
"Nor can they stay apart for very long, though I'm surprised that you two became friends." A voice cut through the roar of the conference and stopped Light and Wily cold. "It's good to see you two up and about."
Light and Wily turned towards the source, and found themselves facing down a 50-something year old man dressed in a black business suit. He had a warm, relieved smile on his wrinkled face, an expression that had changed very little in the last 13 years before.
Light blinked, scarcely believing he was seeing the man in front of him. He remembered him, though the name escaped him. "You're Senator…"
"Hastings." The man finished, looking between the two and offering a disbelieving chortle. "Walter Hastings. We met at the Contest in 2039, yes. But I'm not a Senator anymore."
Wily and Light relaxed, and Albert took the initiative. "So if you're not a Senator, what are you doing here, then?" He asked. "This isn't the Contest. It's a conference for the roboticists of the world to share their ideas."
"Nor am I here to judge anything. I'm here as the Head of the Department of Environmental Protection." Hastings replied. He folded his arms and looked at them again. "God…You don't know how relieved I am to see the two of you alive. Though, I never expected the two of you would ever be working together, not after the Contest of 2039."
"Times change." Wily shrugged. "People change with them."
"Not everyone, I'm afraid." Hastings sighed. He looked over to Light and shook his head. "I never got a chance to apologize to you, Dr. Light."
"Apologize? What for?" Light blinked, unsure of the statement.
Hastings took another look between the two and sighed again. "Ah, well. You two are friends and partners. I suppose this won't change anything. Back in 2039, I voted for your Network. The other two Senators voted for your Kewbee though, Wily."
"For reasons that only became clear to me after they locked my team and I up in the desert and put us to work." Wily concluded grimly. "So what do you have to be apologetic for? You didn't vote for it. Your conscience is clear, and the other two are dead…right?"
Hastings nodded. "Yes. They…didn't survive the Wars. It doesn't make up for it, though. They still did what they did, and the world's taken its turn. Dr. Wily, I want you to know that I don't blame you. You did not make the Kewbee to be a weapon of war."
"You can't ease my conscience so simply, Mr. Hastings." Wily quipped to their elder.
"Then don't presume that your solace changes how I feel about my own sins, Dr. Wily." Hastings answered, a wan smile on his face. Wily blinked, then harrumphed and bowed his head.
"Touche, then. So is there anything else you wanted to say to us?"
"Keep doing what you're doing." Walter Hastings told them. "I am convinced that if this world is to be saved, then it will be by your hands, and those whose lives you touch."
"That's an awful lot of faith you're putting in us." Dr. Light mused, stroking his beard. "I'm not sure that's entirely deserved."
"Together, the two of you re-established global communications after the Wars of 2040 came to a close. You spared us from the killing blow. Working with Ezriah Hyrmue, you helped to create the Treeborgs, which re-oxygenated the planet, and by helping Beskin, you gave the earth the high altitude drones we needed to restart the ozone layer. We would not be standing here if you did not do what you did." Hastings smiled. "So what, exactly, are you two going to show us? The program has you listed for a demonstration later on."
"No fair peeking." Light criticized him, winking. "But…I think we can give you a hint. We're going to be showing an entirely new universal operating system…it's going to revolutionize the industry."
"A new OS?" Hastings blinked. "They've said that before. A robot's a robot."
"Unless a robot can become something more." Light said, curling his upper lip.
Hastings stared between them. Wily blinked back and shook his head. "Don't look at me. He's the one who likes to go around making these grandiose statements. I just build the damn things."
"If I hadn't heard your presentation 13 years ago, I'd agree with you." Hastings exhaled. "No. It seems the both of you can look into the future. That will serve you well."
"We can hope." Wily smirked. He checked his wristwatch and clucked his tongue. "Well, Tom, we'd best get set up. Hyrmue's panel starts in 20 minutes, and I'd like to be there for that."
"Right, right." Dr. Light agreed. He shook Hastings's hand. "It was good seeing you again. We'll look forward to seeing you at our demonstration."
"I'll be there." Hastings promised, waving as the two moved on. "Until then, goodbye!"
He waited until they were out of earshot before smiling sadly and turning away. "…And good luck."
"The greatest danger we face now as a species is our own shortsightedness." Ezriah Hyrmue was still in his opening remarks, and the observers at his panel sat transfixed. Even the other two speakers, neither of which Light could identify, seemed impressed at the British man's poise and precision.
Hyrmue tapped the table next to his microphone for emphasis. "It is what makes us believe we can dismiss others because they are different, or that we can ignore unorthodox ideas. The human capacity for invention and thought is limitless, and shortsightedness is all that holds it back. Though many of you are by now familiar with the story, Treeborgs almost never came into being because of my team leader's stubbornness within the Second Rainbow. Now, Treeborgs can be found nearly everywhere in the world, save for the most scarred and irradiated wastelands."
He leaned his left hand forward. "I've been asked before: Do I hate the Second Rainbow? The answer is an effusive no. Quite the opposite, really. Today, the Second Rainbow, and the United Nations as a whole makes up a large percentage of the Treeborg market. Also, Treeborg Industries works cooperatively with Second Rainbow personnel, including the department I retired from, to further increase the Treeborg's effectiveness and potential. The contribution of nutrient packs by Flora Jane and her team from SRHQ, which is a derivative of her previous "Soil Bomb" work, allowed the Treeborg to flourish even in the Antarctic climate. Also, Dr. Pellero of Brazil was vital in helping to install radiation scrubbers in the Treeborg's photosynthetic lattices. Thanks to his work, the Treeborg population is slowly removing the last aftereffects of the Wars of 2040 from our breathable air. Those are only two prominent examples in an ongoing process that continues to place the welfare of this planet and our species first."
Hyrmue paused for a moment, then chuckled. "I feel as though I've been talking for ages. We haven't even gotten to the heart of this presentation, either." He glanced to the others sitting beside him at the panel. "Do you suppose we could break for a bit to let them ask some questions?"
The others thought about it, then shrugged. Hyrmue beamed. "Splendid. All right then. Let's have some questions. Ehh, you sir, third row back. Oh, and do tell us your name and where you're from."
The man who had raised his hand stood up. Light recognized his ancestry as Chinese, but also noticed he spoke with a barely noticeable accent. "Dr. Li Xiang, China. We can say now that the Treeborgs are vital and effective, but back when it was just an idea, what caused you to continue to pursue it, when all voices seemed to say no?"
Hyrmue smiled. "Well, Dr. Xiang, I almost didn't. Luckily, I had some friends who convinced me that anything worth doing is something you never give up on. Never underestimate the value of true friends. Next? Yes, you, fifth row."
A man stood up. "Dr. Hyrmue, what exactly is the Treeborg's real classification? Is it a robot or a tree?"
Hyrmue smiled. "Didn't want to share your name, eh?"
The fellow blushed a bit. "I…I forgot, I apologize."
Hyrmue waved him off. "It's all right. Say your name or don't, either's fine with me. As to your question, the Treeborg is neither. It's something in between. The Treeborg grows at an exponential rate compared to a normal tree…Enough so that five years' growth is estimated by my team of engineers to be equivalent to twenty-five of a normal tree's life. Logging industries have taken a real shine to Treeborgs because of that, and while Treeborg wood is composed of the same materials as real wood, it is distinctly its own, to the discerning eye. Neither is it a robot, since it does not go anywhere, and has no higher level processes other than grow. We've taken to calling it a new term; a cybernetic organism, in joking reference to the old James Cameron Terminator films. Of course, our Treeborgs couldn't hurt anyone if they wanted to. They just grow, and produce oxygen." That comment earned some laughs from the audience, and Hyrmue pointed to another soul. "All right. What's your question?"
"Is it true you have a monopoly on the market?" Another engineer asked, rather abrasively. Hyrmue blinked twice, then shrugged.
"Well, to my knowledge, we are still the only company that makes artificial tree facsimiles, but while we hold the patent lock on Treeborgs, other corporations have begun to develop oxygenating artificial plant life for undersea implementation. Dr. M'Tumbe of Kenya is in charge of that project, as memory serves…I think we gave him a small donation to start his project. So no, I don't think there's danger of a monopoly. I'm a scientist first, a bleeding heart second, and a ruthless businessman last. Next question? Yes, in the back."
"Will your company make other things besides Treeborgs?"
"We have a few ideas on the drawing board implementing the same technology, and a few others…but that's later on in my presentation, so I don't want to go spoiling the surprise. Next?"
A middle-aged woman stood up, looking rather nervous. She fidgeted with her hands before she finally looked up and blurted out, "Are you hiring?" Laughs cascaded around the room, and Hyrmue raised his hand to settle them down. Her face was beginning to burn.
Hyrmue's eyes were gentle. "Perhaps. We're always looking for new talent. What did you say your name was?"
"Pauline Denners. I worked for the Second Rainbow Reconstruction crew out of Denver. I helped plant a lot of your Treeborgs."
"Hmm." Hyrmue smiled. "Tell you what. Bring your resume by after the presentation. I can take a look, at the least. Next question?"
A man with pen and paper in hand stood up, and his press badge flashed in the light. "Frank Worth, CNN. Dr. Hyrmue, you've amassed a sizable fortune from the success of Treeborg Industries. How do you help give some of that wealth back to others?"
"To the point, aren't we?" Hyrmue shot back. The reporter smiled and waited for the answer. "Philanthropy's become a part-time job of mine. We sell Treeborgs at a discount to the Second Rainbow, for one, and we started a program two months ago to help fund Reconstruction efforts in areas that the Second Rainbow has trouble reaching. Outside of that, Treeborg Industries has loaned capital to several developing companies who are also helping out with the Reconstruction efforts. We all do what we can. My part was giving the world the oxygen balance it needed for the Second Rainbow to reforge the ozone layer. Now, I see myself and Treeborg Industries as more or less, caretakers. Gardeners, if you will, in a world that needs them again. But gardeners alone cannot fix this world, and that's why all of you are at this conference. You're looking to determine how best to continue what the Second Rainbow has started." He clapped his hands together and breathed in. "Well, I think we've got time for one last question. In the back row…fourth from my left?"
"What are your future plans?"
"Mine personally, or the company's?"
"The company's."
"Well, as you know, there are some areas in the world so heavily poisoned by biological agents or residual radiation that they will be uninhabitable for some time. We've had trouble, even with Dr. Pellero's radiation scrubbers, making a Treeborg that can exist in those conditions. Our next major project, outside of the maple tree variant Treeborg, will be a version that can function in those extreme conditions. But as to the specifics of that, and how we're going to accomplish it, well that takes us into the rest of today's panel. So let's go ahead and get started…"
Wily and Light had hidden in the back of the room by the door, not wanting to attract attention to themselves or distract Hyrmue from the task at hand. As Hyrmue went into the rest of his discussion, Wily pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning and turned for the door. Light blinked once, considered it, and then followed.
Once outside, Dr. Light spoke. "You didn't want to stick around and hear him talk?"
"No reason to." Wily replied with a quaint smile. "You know that we can call him anytime we feel like it and he'll tell us more about what he's up to than he'll ever tell that pack of hyenas."
"You know, those are our fellow colleagues back in there."
"Colleagues, feh!" Wily scoffed at the notion, keeping a slow, but steady pace off towards the food stands. "It's gotten a lot easier wince the Wars of 2040 to be a roboticist. There aren't any peer-reviewed publications to keep up to date on anymore. Now, you get a code compiler, a blowtorch, and a screwdriver, and you're suddenly a mad genius."
"I suppose." Light acceded after a moment of thought. "Well, it looks like Hyrmue stole the show this morning."
"That's perfectly fine." Wily replied, and he gave Light one of his rare triumphant grins. "Let him have the morning. Tonight, the stage is ours."
New Horizons Conference Center
August 26th, 2052 C.E.
4:46 P.M.
To the surprise of Dr. Light, the committee in charge of organizing the Conference had placed them center stage, in the largest audience room. Even Hyrmue's panel hadn't been placed here.
He poked his head out of the corner of the back curtain and took in the sight of just one half of the audience…The place was packed. "Jumpin' catfish." Light breathed. He ducked back behind the curtain and walked over to Wily. "You won't believe how many people there are out there right now."
Wily grunted, still making a last minute diagnostic check of their prototype. "Oh, I can imagine. LightTech's come a long ways in a short year. We're the success story of normal robotic engineering. So, are you going to let yourself become intimidated or are you going to do what we came here to do?"
Light took in a breath and let it out slowly. "Change the world?" He asked finally.
Wily unplugged his diagnostic monitor from their robot and smiled. "Change the world." He threw a tarp over the robot and motioned to the curtain. "Can't keep them waiting forever, old friend."
Light rolled his eyes. "You always have to have the last word?"
"I prefer it." Wily opened the curtain and motioned for Light to lead. "But you can have the opening statement."
The crowd noticed them and began cheering and clapping, and Light walked onstage. "How gracious of you." He concluded.
As Light and Wily ventured onstage with their cart and their covered robot, a technician came onstage and handed them both portable microphones. Light clipped his to the lapel of the omnipresent white lab coat that both he and Wily preferred to wear and cleared his throat.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." The crowd settled down and Light glanced about the room in search of familiar faces. He could make out Grigorsky in the middle, and…yes, there in the front was Steve Wilcox, the man whom Wily had kicked off his team so many years before. He righted himself and pulled inwardly. This one had to count, and whereas Wily kept to a script, Light liked to speak from the heart.
"Once, the first of the new generation of robots was usurped from its peaceful intentions. The end result was the GAIDNs, which still endure in memory as a mark of terror, and a warning about the darkness that lurks in humanity's heart. The world made a promise at the Treaty of Canberra never again to use the GAIDNs, and we scrapped them all. But make no mistake, that promise is only as enduring as the fickle human heart, and if nothing's done, then robots could again be used for war. The solution?" He paused, raising a finger in the air to mark the beginning of his first point. "To make robots more moral than the humans who create and use them."
That caused a ripple of surprise in the audience, but Light had expected that. Moral robots? He could almost pick out from the noise. He glanced over to Wily, who raised his eyebrows and lowered them in a less obvious shrug, to tell Light to keep going.
"This was the heart of our newest project. We have designed the second generation of mechanoids…robots…with advanced intelligence and interactive capabilities. But within that, at the core of the neural networks that drive them, are three commandments for the next generation to live by. These commandments were codified a century ago, but remain potent in our own time, helping to ensure our robot's peaceful utility. Many of you have purchased Fliptop units. This new OS will be available as a free download to replace their old operating software. The OS will come standard with our newest robot, and all others that will follow. Here and now, LightTech industries separates itself from the pack. Henceforth, our robots will be governed by the three Asimovian Laws of Robotics."
The murmurs stopped cold, and Light could feel the air of incredulity settle over the crowd. After all…The Laws were a figment of one man's imagination, written in the mid-1940's. Even though the Laws were stated simplistically, they'd never been attempted in real life, because they were too difficult to program into terms AIs could understand.
Light nodded. "Many of you don't believe me, or think that it's possible. And to a degree, you'd be right. Not even the Kewbee series, now extinct, had the capacity to integrate, much less understand and follow the Three Laws. But we've made leaps and bounds since then, and while the Fliptop and our new prototype remain relatively simplistic, they are an entirely different breed. We have tested the Laws with them, and they work. The Laws are hardwired into their programming…it is the one element that can never be erased. You could wipe a robot's Hard Drive clean, and the Laws module would remain. The fact of the matter is, this world needs robots now more than ever. In order for robots to function in their new and increased capacity, they must also learn how to function with humanity. I have no doubt that in the years to come, other breakthroughs in the field of robotic engineering will occur, resulting in robots that will become more and more humanlike in characteristics both physical and mental. For Dr. Wily and myself, the Three Laws are more than just the keystone of our new A.I. Operating System…it is the guiding component that will help us to ensure that all the doomsday prophecies made by Hollywood and our own imaginations will never come to pass."
Dr. Wily moved forward, picking up where Light had left off. "We plan on eventually making the Three Laws "Core Module" available for purchase by our competitors. The Module offers increased capacity for AI thought and growth along with the Laws. It safeguards not only against reformatting, but protects the robot as well. Should a robot with this unit ever deviate from the stated parameters of the Three Laws, a power feedback loop is initiated. This feedback is designed to overheat and destroy the corrupted robot's neural network. We have called this defense mechanism "Mind Freeze", because that is precisely what it does: Overloads the circuitry and shuts down the unit." Wily looked over to Light, and then back out to the crowd. "If the world is ever to trust robots again, then they need to feel safe around them. With science fiction at last becoming science fact, it is our responsibility to ensure that the best of our predecessor's foresight is implemented…not our worst. Peaceful robots built to help mankind and pull us from the senseless Wars that plagued our planet for a decade, this is the vision that Dr. Light and myself share. It is what guides LightTech Industries, and what, we hope, will also guide the world."
Though there had been hesitation and concern on their faces in the beginning, the explanations given by Dr. Light and Dr. Wily had smoothed over the waters. Polite applause echoed after Wily's last sentence, followed, after a few people stood and began nodding their heads in agreement, with more vigorous cheering.
Light soaked it in, at last feeling that he and Albert had come full circle. Now, they weren't only redeemed heroes, but visionaries. One glance at his friend told him that the feeling was very much mutual.
Wily put on his cheerful expression and dug a hand into his pocket. "But, the new Core Module is only a part of what we came here to show you today. The second is our newest prototype robot. Tom, if you could?"
"Right." Dr. Light stepped back in, as Wily prepared to lift the tarpaulin. "LightTech Industries is poised to launch the first Three-Law driven robot series within two weeks. We brought along the prototype with us to give you all a sneak preview of what you'll be going up against. A benefit of still being a small firm," He added with a wink, "Is that we can still catch people off guard every now and then. We call this new robot the Metal-Tool…Although the shorthand version may end up being more popular." He nodded to Wily, and his partner threw back the covering shroud. "The nickname for this little fellow is Metool."
As a surprised audience watched, the tarp unveiled a small hemispherical piece of metal, lying flush with the demonstration cart.
"It doesn't look like much now, but that's because it's currently powered down, and in its protective mode." Light reassured them. Wily pulled a remote control out of his pocket and hit the power button, and the half-sphere began to move, rising up to reveal two squat sturdy footpads…and a black body, complete with two comically large eyes. "The paint scheme hasn't been finalized, but here's what we can tell you. The Metool stands a third of a meter high, and the same distance across. It's powered by a micronized cold hydrogen battery cell, which gives it 16 hours of normal operations time before it requires a recharge."
The Metool glanced about, then walked towards the edge of the cart. Just before it fell off, it retreated back into its helmet and clattered to the floor three feet below…then re-emerged out from under its helmet like a turtle, and began surveying the stage without any damage at all. The audience murmured, and waited for Light to continue.
"Propulsion and stability is achieved through two oversized, shock-absorbent titanium feet with mesh webbing. The Metool has a maximum speed of six kilometers per hour, and can be equipped with a variety of tools, true to its name. Its default operation, however, is welding and construction. When in use, the Metool operates by lifting its helmet. In an emergency or dangerous situation that threatens harm to the Metool, it can protect itself by dropping the helmet down and retreating into it. The helmet is a mixture of more common metals and a damage and energy resistant lightweight alloy recently produced in Swedish laboratories. This added protection and durability ensures the Metool's longevity of service. The world requires sturdy workers to rebuild and to heal. The Metool is LightTech's contribution to the ongoing Reconstruction effort."
Wily cleared his throat when silence settled over the room. "Any questions?"
Hands came up instantly. Light pointed to one. "Yes, you sir?"
"You say that this…Metool…Operates under the Three Laws. I don't suppose you could demonstrate?"
Light smiled. "Certainly. First, we'll show you the Metool in action. Albert, could you…"
"Way ahead of you." Dr. Wily cut in, picking up a piece of steel crossbeam and setting it on the ground in front of the Metool. The squat robot stopped in place and blinked at it several times. "Metool!" He barked. The robot swiveled its two cartoonishly large eyes up and stared at the wild-haired man. "Deinen Schweitzer benutzen, um diesen Stahl zur Hälfte zu schneiden!"
There was nothing like ranted German to make an audience crack up, and Wily defused the tense moment easily, earning their laughter. The Metool blinked twice exactly, then turned back down to the section of steel sitting in front of it and opened its mouth. A tiny probe appeared where one might expect to see a tongue on a human.
Instantly, a brilliant flash of cutting light echoed out, sending sparks showering everywhere as the Metool got to work.
Light looked back to the crowd. "The Metool is equipped with a plasma arc welder…thanks to recent advancements in technology, we were able to miniaturize the components and expand the arc through the use of electromagnetic shielding. This allows the Metool to cut…" He paused as the Metool's welder cut out, and the steel crossbeam collapsed into two pieces, "…Far more efficiently. The extended toroid maintains its shape, allowing the Metool to operate underwater, or even in a complete vacuum. Naturally, plasma welders are dangerous if mishandled. That brings us to the next part of this. I am so confident in the Core Module that I'm going to let Dr. Wily here tell the robot to do something it never would. Albert?"
Dr. Wily looked out at the crowd and waggled an eyebrow. "Hmm. Should I?" He shrugged, then rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Robot!"
The Metool looked back up at Wily again expectantly. Wily pointed to Dr. Light, wearing the most evil looking grin he could manage. "I want you to weld Dr. Light's foot to the floor."
The robot blinked twice, then looked over at Light.
Light seemed unfazed, but the audience held its breath. The Metool clearly had a great deal of power…Would it listen to Wily's murderous order?
The Metool looked back at Wily, gave off an irksome warbling beep, and shook its helmeted head. Wily laughed and clapped his hands. "There! You're not so stupid after all, are you?"
The Metool gave a curious beep in reply.
"Even though Wily gave it an order, which it would have to follow under the Second Law of Robotics, that order would have caused it to violate the First Law. It therefore refused the order." Light explained. "A robot operating with the Core Module can no sooner bring harm to a human than it could destroy itself. You asked for a demonstration, and there it is. We've even tested it back at our laboratories in Alaska, and we've found that the Metool will even go so far as to skitter across the floor and slip on a banana peel to prevent the same from happening to a human."
"As an added bonus, it can cook a steak in ten seconds." Wily added, unable to keep from winking.
"And there you have it." Light concluded, waving a hand at the Metool. "Your newest all-purpose, human friendly robot. The Metool, a LightTech Industries exclusive."
As one, the audience rose and began clapping and cheering. It felt like a wave of water rushing past Wily, stunning him. He looked over to Light, who seemed to be completely in his element, and the Metool simply looked about, confused as to why all the biologicals were making so much noise. Its curiosity didn't last for much longer, once Light gave it the shutdown order and they walked offstage with their gear in tow.
Light was glowing, and the noise of the audience still carried back to them as the conference center staff offered their own congratulations. He slapped Wily on the back and laughed. "Outstanding! We not only wowed them, but we're heroes again!"
"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with that." Wily admitted quietly.
His best friend glanced at him and rolled his eyes. "You said earlier tonight the stage was ours. You live for this kind of showmanship. Why are you so quiet now?"
"Being seen as a revolutionary thinker and inventor, that I can get behind." Wily answered, after a moment's sheepish pause. "But we're not heroes, Tom. We're just a couple of guys doing the only thing they know how to do to make money and maybe fix the world a little bit while we're at it."
"So you don't want to be a hero. Would you rather we were the villains?"
"I've never enjoyed that mantle." Wily reminded his cohort, looking at the Metool tucked under Light's arm. "I just want to be myself. No titles, no legacy. But we don't have that kind of control in our lives anymore, do we?"
Light's communicator went off, and he stopped them. "Hang on a second, Will."
Dr. Wily waited impatiently as Light tapped the communicator's screen with his thumb and read the message. The bearded robotologist smiled and tucked it back away.
"Well, Al, there's one thing we don't have control of…Hyrmue just sent me a message asking us to join him for dinner. He says he wants to place an order."
"Christ, already?" Wily raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be surprised if we've got another dozen requests before we go to bed, at this rate. So where does he want to meet us?"
"The restaurant here at the Center…he's buying."
"Good. We'll just head back up to our room and put the robot away, then…"
"Actually, I was thinking we could take him with us." Light said cheerfully. Wily groaned in response, and started stomping off.
"You're doing it again, Tom. For the love of mike, stop anthropomorphizing these damned robots. They're metal, not human!"
"So I'm crazy. At least I don't look like the German scientist who helped to create the atomic bomb."
"And at least I don't look like effing Santa Claus, you behemoth!"
Venturing out of the conference and avoiding the crowds, Dr. Light and Dr. Wily made their way to the restaurant with thoughts of baked potatoes and summer salads running through their minds.
Neither realized that their announcement, now being transmitted across the world, was drawing a firestorm right to their door.
6:37 P.M.
Dr. Hyrmue had been a gracious host at dinner, congratulating them and heaping gads of food in front of them. He'd picked up the tab afterwards, insisting on it quite plainly. Even though they were the toast of the evening, people at the other tables were respectable enough to keep their distance. Their friend had plenty to talk about, and plenty more to discuss about future business arrangements. He'd given them the loan to get LightTech up and off of the ground, and now that Wily and Light's private brainchild was about to go global in a new and dynamic way, he wanted a set of Metools working in his own operations…provided they could be modified for caretaking duty.
That was the beautiful thing about the Metool design; it was so simple, it could be made to do many different things. It was still, much like the Kewbee had originally been designed for, a multipurpose tool-user. As Light and Wily headed back to their hotel room after dinner, they continued that conversation after.
"Tom, we didn't build the Metools for deep space."
"No, but they could be easily adapted for it." Light insisted, stepping off the elevator and onto their floor. "Hell, we just told Hyrmue we could set them up with a watering system. The Metool's more durable and strong than we give it credit for right now."
"Hmph, you say that now, but we haven't done any field testing of it outside of construction and welding." Wily reminded his friend, following after him. "It took us a month and a half to crack powering and forming the electromagnetic containment field for the plasma toroid welder. I'm not saying that adapting the Metool for other purposes can't be done, but it's going to take a lot of work…and more hair." He concluded, touching his own scalp with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Oh, pish. For as much as you grumble on, Will, face it. You enjoy working."
"Hmph." Wily rolled his eyes and looked down. He pointed to Light's belt, and the flashing communicator. "Hey, you've got a call."
"Whoops." Light exclaimed, pulling it up. "I'd forgotten I switched it to silent during dinner." He stared at the screen. "Don't recognize that number…Oh well." He punched in a button and lifted it to the side of his head. "Dr. Thomas Light speaking."
"Dr. Light? Oh, thank goodness. I thought I would be too late!"
Light frowned, still walking towards their door. He pulled out the old-fashioned magnetic keycard. "Who is this?"
"You don't remember me? It's Walter Hastings! Please, you have to listen to me. You're in grave danger."
Light reached the door to his room and froze, glancing over to Wily. Even though his friend couldn't hear the phone call, he knew something was wrong by the tone of Light's voice.
"Danger? How?"
"They want you back. They want your new robot. Please, you have to get out, go back to the Second Rainbow, tonight."
"Hold on a second." Light stopped Hastings, who was speaking a mile a minute. "Who's they? How do you know all this?"
"Dr. Light, please, I'm asking you to trust me. I don't know much about them, but I know that they work for the government. Secretly. Their boss is only known by his codename: The Tricker."
Light's heart stopped. The Tricker.
Memories of Latch came flooding back from five years ago. The boy had said someone called the Tricker was after him. After them all, perhaps.
"Light, are you still there?"
"Yes…I'm here. We both are." Light swallowed, looking over to Wily. His friend had seen him mouth the name aloud, and now wore a similar expression of dread and panic. "What should we do?"
"He's going to come looking for you. Get what you can, then get to the airport and call for a ride. Use your Second Rainbow connections for a direct flight. Don't use the regular terminals. Don't trust anyone."
"All right." Dr. Light agreed, sliding his keycard into their door's lock. Wily pulled the handle and opened the door, and stepped into the darkness of their room.
Light froze in the doorway, mouth open and his phone still in his hand.
He'd left the lights on when they left.
And there certainly hadn't been someone waiting inside wearing green night vision goggles.
There was the hissing sound of compressed air, then a sharp pinch…
And then darkness. The frantic sound of Walter Hasting's voice, screaming at him to see if he was still there, ebbed him into sleep.
When he came to again, he heard buzzing instead. His eyes squinted against a bright light…an old fashioned fluorescent light strip. He tried to move, and found himself tied up to the chair he was sitting on.
His voice cracked on a dry throat. "Al?"
Something moved behind him. "Mwuh?"
"Al, are you awake?"
"Uh…Yeah." Wily was groggy, but conscious. "Whuhappened?"
"We were tranq'd." Light exclaimed, remembering Hastings' phone call, the man in their room, and…
"Shit. The Tricker."
"You know my name? Well, I feel privileged now." A male voice spoke up. There was no humor in the voice at all. The two scientists jerked their heads about for a look, but saw only a figure standing out of the light. "Doctors Thomas Light and Albert Wily. My, my, you've been busy." The Tricker was nearly monotone, Light realized. "Saving the world, helping to design revolutionary and experimental technologies, and you even find the time to steal the show at a conference."
"Save the praise." Light croaked. "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested. Latch said you were trouble, and you're proving him right."
"Latch?" The Tricker was curious, then laughed coldly. "Latchkey? That boy? No. Schroeder's problem was that he could never understand the big picture. I'd hate to think you two are as shortsighted as he was." The Tricker paused before adding, "Perhaps Wily still is."
"Bastard!" Wily spat out, straining against his bonds. "You're just going to tie us up and spout off this gibberish? You won't even show your face!"
The Tricker seemed unfazed. "Perhaps that's because all you have now is a name, and a fictitious one at that. A face is so more visceral, more truthful…" He got up and motioned to an unseen figure some distance away, and the rest of the room lights clicked on.
Light squinted his eyes shut for a moment and then slowly opened them.
"…More frightening." The Tricker concluded, and Light's eyes focused in. There were two guards in the room, each with a tranquilizer pistol, but Light spent more time staring aghast at the tall, wiry, pepper-gray haired Tricker…
Or as he now recognized him…
Former Vice President Dran Grevis.
"You." Wily said flatly, trying to sound brave instead of scared witless. "They threw you into prison."
Grevis shrugged, and walked towards them. "Just as they did with you. The both of us are free for the same reason, Dr. Wily…" He casually flipped out a pocketknife and cut their bonds away. "Our country needs us."