I had a headache after Wile E. and Richter finally finished making plans. The headache had nothing to do with Wile E. trying to understand technology. It was simply a headache of frustration. I swear that between Richter's spoken words and Wile E.'s written ones, the average number of syllables per word was around five for over an hour. By the time they were finished, I just wanted some crayons, a coloring book, and a nice corner to hide in.

Richter was leaning back in his chair. "Thank you, Genius, I am certain that these drones will help us a great deal. I really wish it would be possible for you to operate them at a significant distance, but I understand that they must stay very close to you in order for you to refuel them."

I looked at the gizmo, which appeared to be a tiny red zeppelin. Not appeared to be. It was a tiny red zeppelin. Wile E. was able to create fantastically light and durable structures with partially-defined graphene and carbon nanotubes. The tiny zeppelin was not only very low mass, the bag literally contained nothing. Vacuum.

My eyes traced over the body of the little drone floating in front of us. The gondola held propulsion and power, and the computers. The gossamer 'wings' extending to either side of the body of the drone were many-purposed. They served as audio sensors as well as antennae for receiving. The transmitter was a whisker laser.

Richter spoke aloud. "Naga. Please perform another integration test. Announce results only if there are problems, or upon completion of the test."

I felt Wile E. watching the drone with satisfaction, monitoring the electronics as they subtly altered due to Naga's testing.

A female voice spoke about fifteen seconds later. "Test complete."

"Thank you, Naga."

I chuckled to myself. The guy talks and says 'Thank you' to his computers, and they think I'm crazy?

Wile E. chuckled back at me, sharing the internal joke.

"Can I keep this one, Genius? I'm impressed by the density of computational power and the heat transfer mechanisms. I bet Armsmaster's head will spin in a circle to see this much processor power in such a small package, without tinker tech. I would like to ask him to implement some of this in new equipment for me. I'm sure the Protectorate and Guild teams could also benefit from some of the electronic architectures and weight reduction techniques."

Wile E. started writing on the easel we had summoned, under the equations and twenty-letter geek-speak words.

Not all reproducible. Partial definition of components.

Richter nodded. "Understood. The architecture is still novel and can certainly be reproduced with some loss of efficiency. Your directly-created equipment will be more efficient, but I am certain we can adapt this." He rubbed his hands together, then clapped once. "OK. Mouse is probably bouncing off the walls waiting for you by now. Perhaps literally."

**

Richter hadn't been far off. I wasn't two steps outside his door before Mouse grabbed my right wrist and dragged me through the building and out the front door. I barely managed to grab the door and close it as we left the building.

Not being able to speak was annoying. Mouse wasn't looking at me, and was jabbering nonstop about motorcycles as she ran across the runway, apparently not noticing that I was bouncing on the pavement behind her as she ran. Wile E. was annoyed to be bouncing behind her, but was also listening to everything Mouse was saying about what seemed to be a subject of particular interest to her. High performance sports bikes. The syllable count was not that much lower than the conversation with Richter, but there were a lot more Japanese and German words.

"I found a shop with some of next year's models, Genius! You're going to love them."

Wile E. I know this isn't hurting us much, but it's really annoying. Can you shock her just a little bit?

The answer was yes, of course. Wile E. concentrated very briefly. Mouse's constant chatter stopped mid-stride and she stumbled. A moment later she turned, raising her hand and looking at our wrist. "What was that..." She looked down at us, where we were laying on our stomach on the sidewalk.

As we stood, brushing ourselves off with the hand that Mouse didn't have trapped in hers, she blushed bright red. "Oh. Sorry."

I shrugged, then tugged lightly at the trapped hand, which she released. She looked a little upset, so I have her a buddy-hug across the shoulder, bouncing her shoulder against my chest, then poking her very carefully in the nose with a knuckle rather than a claw.

"I get carried away sometimes, Genius. I'm really sorry. I know you're really tough. I forgot you don't have the reflexes or speed of most brute types."

I poked her in the nose again, then gave an elaborate bow in the direction we had been running.

"OK." Mouse replied, with a grin. Before we could object, she had scooped us up in a fireman's carry, and we were running even faster than before. Mouse wasn't nearly as fast as a car on a highway, but she was faster than traffic.

Wile E. and I both sighed and let her carry us.

**

Of course, Mouse simply barged into the showroom floor without warning us. After the little bells on the door started ringing, there was a brief instant of tile, chrome, tires and a cacophony of colors before I collapsed into unconsciousness.

I woke up to Mouse laying against me, her back on the right side of my chest. She was raptly reading a street racing magazine. As she felt me starting to move, she hopped up and dragged me to my feet. "This place is a pro shop too, Genius, I got permission for us to walk through the warehouse!"

She dragged us through some double doors at the back of the shop.

**

"Oh, he always does this, he's not epileptic. He's a thinker, I guess, but can make things out of his imagination or something too. It's pretty neat. Now that he knows everything about motorcycles and pro shop parts, I bet he'll make something that'll blow our socks off!"

Wile E. felt like he was about to bust out of my skull.

Calm down Wile E. Please?

The pressure reduced in my head, significantly, with a sensation of impatience.

Thank you, Wile E. I know you're impatient, but we're not making a good impression here, falling unconscious and holding our head like we're drunk.

The lean woman Mouse was talking to was looking at us, and back to Mouse. She spoke with a heavy French accent. "A cape on this property will make our insurance company..." she paused. "...have kittens. Please. We let you look. Please go now, or buy something."

Mouse grabbed our wrist. "OK. Don't want to cause problems! Thanks for letting us look. I just wanted Genius here to make the best bike ever!"

The woman's face twitched a little into a smile, and her eyes widened a bit. "Best bike ever?" She looked at me with a strange look, then back at a little door leading into a small office. "Meet outside front door, please? I have more pictures."

"Prototype images?" Mouse hopped up and down, letting go of our wrist long enough to clap a couple times.

Before she turned around and opened her office door, the woman smiled hugely. "Maybe."

The door closed behind her and she started rapidly moving papers around for about thirty seconds before looking up and seeing Mouse peering into her office through the window if the door. Mouse's nose was pressed against the glass. The woman made shooing motions with her hands, and laughed. "Outside. I meet you outside!"

We bounced outside, somehow without damaging anything, and Mouse started walking back and forth on her hands. Between my appearance and Mouse's actions, we started to draw a crowd. Some of the crowd were police officers. They weren't happy, but Wile E. could hear that they were being told to leave us alone as long as we didn't cause property damage or get aggressive.

The lean woman pushed her way outside the door carrying several sheets of paper. Wile E. could smell that a couple of them had just been printed out, due to the scent of fresh ink. "Pictures of best bikes ever."

I managed to read SpazFrag666 at the top of the first page before my head felt like it was going to explode.

**

I woke up to Mouse poking me in the side of my chest with her foot. "Genius, I can see we're going to have to go on the trade show circuit with you every year, or you'll fall out every time you see something cool."

I slapped her foot and stood. Wile E. was trying to explode my head still.

Stop that Wile E. Please? Or at least reduce it to a level that I can deal with?

There was no reduction in pain.

I held up my right index finger to Mouse and the woman from the shop, indicating that I needed a little time. Then I smashed my head against the pavement. Once. Twice. Three times. Harder each time.

After the third head-smash, Wile E. sent me a sensation of anger and impatience mixed with childish glee.

Less pain, Wile E. I don't mind a bit of discomfort. You're connected to me mentally. I know you know when I'm in pain. Stop pushing so hard. We're not in a fight. We're not in danger.

The pain faded to a dull throbbing.

I stood up and everyone was staring at us. The crowd around us was much smaller than it had been, and the people much farther away.

"Was that, ah, necessary, Genius?" Mouse asked, looking a bit shocked.

I nodded to her, then shrugged.

Wile E. exalted in my head, it felt like he had just had an orgasm or something. I felt him start to concentrate.

Parts began to appear, one at a time. A small ski in the front, and two behind that. A frame that must have been twenty feet long attached to the skis. The frame was quickly assembled with successive moments of concentration, growing more and more complex. As the frame continued to expand, to the sides, I started to recognize airplane components. Wings were formed. Jet engines appeared. Components I couldn't understand at all were generated. The wings were evacuated by pumps for more lift.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several people with cameras, including a couple people speaking American English with a camcorder.

We have an audience, Wile. E. Don't kill any of them by accident, please.

Wile E. snorted in our mind, with a strong sensation of 'Duh.'

About ten minutes later, Wile E.'s hog was finished. The lean woman and Mouse were both staring at it, stunned. The entire machine was fire engine red, like all of Wile E.'s partially defined materials. It didn't look anything like the flying motorcycle with the crazy-looking albino man with chains on his wrist, but it was impossible to not immediately recognize it as a flying, jet powered motorcycle.

Mouse started squeeing. "Ohmygod. It looks like the love child of a Harley Davidson chopper and an F-14 Does it really fly, Genius? Ride. Now!"

The shopkeeper was backing away slowly, and moving to the side, out from behind the jets. Her eyes were tracking hungrily, rapidly over the entire bike. She was obviously caught between self-preservation and curiosity.

Wile E. concentrated and a backpack appeared in our hands. He tossed it to Mouse, who looked at it. There was a yellow tag attached to a cable tied to the front straps. "Parachute."

I tapped our foot and pointed at the parachute as Mouse stared at it in her hands.

Mouse looked up at me with a brief frown. "Spoilsport. Fine."

Two seconds later, Mouse had the parachute on, and jumped on the back, slightly-raised half of the bike's seat.

Wile E. turned around in a circle while making shooing motions at all the people staring and taking pictures. Almost everyone left.

We tilted our head at the three remaining camera-wielders, and pointed at them with our left hands while slowly drawing circles in the air next to our head with our right hand. They didn't move. Shrugging, Wile E. slowly climbed onto the bike in front of Mouse. He engaged the kick start, and something that sounded like a go-kart motor started up.

The three watchers laughed.

Mouse started to giggle. "It sounds like that? I was expecting something..."

Wile E. pointed at an indicator marked "Starting Generator"

Mouse raised herself up on her foot-pegs and looked over our shoulder. "Oh." She quickly sat down, and put her hands around our waist.

Wile E. pressed the engage button for the horizontal nose turboprop, then for the two wing turboprops. They slowly started rotating up to speed until there was a coughing sound and a roar. The bike began to shake, and Wile E. punched a gauge. The shaking stopped. The roaring didn't.

Dust and gravel began billowing away from us, and the three watchers ran away. The bike slowly rose into the air. When we were about thirty feet above street level, Wile E. flicked another lever, marked 'Main Drives'.

The noise was deafening. Mouse started hitting us and yelling something. Wile E. concentrated and a piece of headgear appeared, with heavy earpieces. He handed it over our shoulder and Mouse grabbed it. Less than a second later, she punched us lightly behind the shoulder blades, before gripping our waist with both hands.

Wile E. turned the handlebars left, and pulled back on them a bit. We angled up and turned left.

I felt him doing something with his left foot. He was clutching?

You built a clutch into a jet-powered flying motorcycle?

As Wile E.'s right wrist shifted slightly, the jets behind us to the left and right began to roar even louder. Despite the wall of sound, I could feel a smugness and a definite feeling of 'Of Course.'

The bike wasn't anywhere near as fast as the rocket roller skates had been on wet-pants speed, but it was still damn fast. It only took us minutes to reach the Simurgh's next expected stop. We parked on a rock outcrop that gave us some visibility.

Mouse hopped off the bike and did cartwheels and flips around us, like an Olympic floor gymnast gone spastic. "After we're done helping Richter, you will show me what this thing can do, wide-open." It wasn't a question.

I nodded, happily, and Wile E. seemed happy as well.

It took Wile E. about two minutes per zeppelin drone to create them, and then another five minutes for Richter to download Naga's drone application to each of them and perform self-tests.

By the time we saw the Simurgh appear over the top of a rock outcrop, we had been hearing her in bits and pieces, broken song echoing and reverberating between the rocks.

She passed us quickly, apparently ignoring us, heading directly towards what looked like some sort of office building, where dozens of vans with antennae were parked, and people in white coats were setting up equipment.

Richter's voice came from Mouse's phone. "Naga is now initiating data collection, full fidelity. The drones will return periodically to your location to refuel"

The ten drones unfolded their gossamer antennae and drifted out to surround the Simurgh.

"Did you hear that, Genius?" Mouse asked, talking a lot louder than she needed to. She was probably still partially deaf due to the jet engines from the bike, despite the hearing protection.

I nodded. Wile E. certainly hadn't missed it. I checked anyway. Did you hear Richter?

There was an absent-minded agreement. The Simurgh's song had started to shift, changing in incredibly complex ways. Wile E. was starting to analyze the song, getting deeper and deeper into thought. Office workers started leaving the building and approaching the Simurgh, though she was floating too far off the ground for them to touch.

It started to get painful, which was odd. The pain typically spiked when Wile E. saw something he didn't understand.

Complaining mentally, I shot Wile. E a thought. Stop it. Slow down. Richter is gathering the data too.

The pain continued to mount, rapidly. I felt his modeling of the Simurgh's song and electromagnetic outputs was growing more and more complex. I could feel Wile E.'s concentration building for a summoning.

You aren't supposed to be hurting us unless we're in danger, Wile. E.

There was a sense of agreement, as a podium appeared in front of us, with a book titled:

Potential Uses for Sonic and Electromagnetic Impulses Directly Targeting Human Brain Tissues with Apparently no Immediate Damaging Effects.

Is she using a power, Wile E.? I asked. Barely able to form coherent thought.

There was no answer, only an intense sensation of worry.

Mouse stared at the podium with the enormous book on it, but Wile E. was already flipping through the book at absurd speed. When he finished the book and slapped the back cover shut, he stared at the Simurgh, and I felt him concentrate. A helmet appeared in his hand, and he handed it to Mouse, indicating she should put it on.

She protested, with her hands on her hips. "You gave me a parachute, I don't need a helmet, Genius."

Wile E. took control of our body, and connected a small flat device with a screen on it to the helmet. He then poked Mouse's nose, pointed at the helmet, and pointed at the Simurgh. After that he once again poked at the helmet before pantomiming placing the helmet on our head.

Mouse sighed, said. "Whatever." and put the helmet on.

What in the hell are you doing, Wile E.? I shouted at him in our head.

The phone rang, and through the haze of pain, I vaguely heard Mouse and Richter talking. All of the zeppelin drones had failed simultaneously, within a single clock cycle of their processors, despite being at varying ranges from Simurgh. The analytical devices belonging to other scientists had failed at the same instant, according to Naga's collected data. Richter wanted us to see if we could repair the drones, or summon more after compensating for how they had just failed.

I could feel that Wile E. was completely ignoring what Richter and Mouse were saying. He was watching an incredibly complex display of data on the screen of the device attached to the helmet Mouse was wearing. I couldn't make head nor tails of it.

The headache rapidly ratcheted up, and I felt Wile E. starting to grow very concerned.

Dammit, Wile E.! We won't do any good unconscious! Stop that!

The sense of concern started to shift to a sense of anger, quickly growing into a sense of rage. The pain lessened slightly, but I could still feel Wile E. struggling with a massive computational effort.

There was an abrupt lessening in pain and then I felt Wile. E. concentrate to summon an item. A note appeared in our hands, which Wile E. shoved in front of Mouse's face.

Mouse's phone connection to Richter died as her head jerked back in reaction to our shoving the note in her face. I couldn't read the note, because it was facing away from me. Angrily snatching the note out of our hand, she read it out loud. "Simurgh is reprogramming human brains." She stared at the note, then swiveled her red-helmeted face to us. "What?"

What? I echoed Mouse, in our head.

In return, I felt an incredible impatience and anger directed at me and Mouse, with a definite undertone of dunce caps.

Our head spun to face the Simurgh and Wile E. and I both started watching as a large number of small items started being assembled in midair around the Simurgh. Pieces and parts of electronics and vehicles were being gathered, disassembled, reshaped, and reassembled into devices that made my head hurt. As the circle of devices was beginning to form around her, the large gathering of scientists were yelling in excitement to see Simurgh doing something different. Mostly in languages I didn't know, but a few in English. There were some shouts of fear, and I saw at least two people fall out of the back of vans that had been lifted into the air as they were partially disassembled.

Mouse's head swiveled to face the Simurgh. The red helmet Wile E. had created was gently pulled off her head and disassembled, most of the parts simply dropping to the ground.

Wile E. was trying to isolate the functions of the devices being built, most of which seemed to be pointed in our direction, when the singing stopped. A moment later, the Simurgh slowly turned to face us, and started screaming.

"Aw, shit!" Mouse shouted as she hit us with a flying tackle. A large section of the rock outcrop we had been standing on exploded behind us in a shower of gravel and small stones as we tumbled down the steep slope.