"Wayne, time for supper!" Mother stood at the gate, calling him home. She smiled at him and rubbed his bristly yellow hair. "I'm proud of you, Wayne," she said as he hugged her. There was a roaring sound in his ears.

He craned his neck to see over the heads of the other children. "Where's the Guardian?" he asked his father.

"He's coming," his father assured him. "He'll be here."

Wayne pressed close to his father's side as the parade came closer. The roaring in his ears drowned out the sound of the cheers as the Guardian's car passed by.

"Hey, is your brain on standby?" Turbo hung his head over the edge of his bunk and grinned at him. "You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"I was thinking," he answered.

"Bet I know what you were thinking about," Turbo teased. "You're thinking about that pretty girl in Diplomacy class."

Wayne's ears burned. "It's not just that she's pretty," he faltered.

"But it sure doesn't hurt," Turbo laughed. "Ask her out, good buddy. The worst she can do is say no."

"You can say that," Wayne countered. "You could get a date with any girl in the class if you wanted."

Turbo sobered. "Yeah, but I never know if they're interested in me or in telling their parents they went out with the Prime Guardian's kid."

Wayne started to reply, but was distracted by the roar that suddenly washed across his consciousness.

Paganini was crashing. He knew it even as the BIOS fell apart before his eyes, even though his hands were still working over the fading keys, even as Ral sent out a final emergency code. He worked from his own Guardian-safed memory, cudgeling his wits for basic structural codes. The bug ate as fast as he worked. Faster. It was tireless and insatiable. He was alone and exhausted. His fingers slipped across the keys, and the bug gobbled down the useless mess of code he'd just written.

"Wayne!" Someone called his name out of the void. "Guardian 147! Are you still processing?"

He wasn't sure. There was only the bug and his opposition to it. Did mere will count as processing?

"Wayne!"

Someone grabbed his arm. He glanced down, surprised that he still had an arm.

"Wayne, thank the Net you're still compiled. Come on, we have to get out of here!"

The face and the voice were familiar. "Simon?"

"I got Ral's call. Come on!" Simon's keytool activated as the last of Paganini's BIOS collapsed.

"Wayne?" Someone was knocking on the door. "Wayne, open up. It's me."

"Go away," Wayne said from the sofa.

"If that's the way you want it." There was a pause, then a crash as the door split in two. Turbo rubbed his shoulder. "I don't know why you wanted me to break your door down again, Wayne."

"I didn't. Leave me alone, Turbo."

"Don't worry, I will. I'm just dropping something off." Turbo turned back into the hallway, and bent down. When he turned around again, there was a box in his arms.

"What is it this time?" Wayne asked wearily.

"You need to get out. This will make sure you do." Turbo reached into the box, and gently lifted something out. He deposited it in Wayne's lap.

Wayne looked at it, and it looked back at him. The fluffy puppy wagged its tail hesitantly.

"Turbo, what is this?" Wayne asked.

"It's a puppy, you idiot. He'll grow up to be a dog."

"I can't take him, Turbo." Wayne ruffled the little creature's fur.

"Why? Because you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself?" Turbo sat down on the coffee table. "You haven't got anything else to do, Wayne. It's been two seconds since you purged your protocol, and you haven't so much as glanced at the Help Wanted files."

"I deleted two hundred thousand lives, Turbo," Wayne said brokenly, cradling the puppy as it licked his fingers.

"A bug deleted Paganini, Wayne," Turbo corrected. "How long is it going to be before you inprocess that thought? Here—" he handed Wayne a braided nylon leash. "Go take your dog for a walk. I'll call the manager about getting your door fixed."

"Who are you?" He struggled in Charlie's grip. "What do you want?"

"I am Daemon," she replied, smiling. She hovered in the air above him. "Do not worry. I do not cause pain." She stroked his cheek.

"Go to Level Seven! Level Eight!"

"What in the Net was that?"

"I figure it's some new kind of infection."

"It can't be."

The darkness swirled around him, and a misty light showed through. Voices. He sank again.

After some time (Nanos? Cycles? He had no idea, and couldn't remember why it mattered) he surfaced again. His head ached, and he slowly became aware of a throbbing pain in his right hip.

"Welcome back, old friend."

He oriented on the voice. "Turbo?"

"Right in one." Turbo settled back into the chair beside the bed. "How you feeling?"

Wayne slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, then massaged his temples for a long moment before sighing and answering, "I remember how old I am, if that's what you mean."

"Time sure flies, doesn't it?" Turbo murmured.

Wayne chuckled a little. "I thought time only flew when you were having fun."

"Someone should update that readme to 'time flies when you're already too busy'," Turbo said ruefully.

"Mm. So, how much have I missed?"

Turbo sobered. "About six micros. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Did they find the infection?" Wayne asked in a tightly controlled voice.

The Prime Guardian shook his head. "No. Dr. Bingen says there's not a trace of infection on any of your scans."

"So it's still there," Wayne said wearily. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How is Davic?"

"Sound asleep, and Caen's not letting anyone wake him up. Davic's a tough kid, but he does have power limits."

"So there's no evidence Davic or Caen is infected?"

"They're both as close to normal as they ever are," Turbo assured him.

"Good." Wayne swung his legs out of bed, tapping his icon as he did. His icon beeped, then replaced Wayne's hospital gown with a fresh pair of khaki pants and a casual shirt. Wayne set his feet on the floor, wincing as his right hip protested.

Turbo leaned forward to put a hand against Wayne's shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To find the lab. There must be one here somewhere."

"There is, but you don't need to get anywhere near it," Turbo said.

"I've got to find this thing, Turbo," Wayne said earnestly. "Before it drives the entire Net random." His brow furrowed. "Is Bob's cadet still here?"

"Yeah." Turbo opened his mouth as if to say more, then propped his elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his face.

"Something's wrong." It wasn't a question.

"Dr. Bingen's handling it."

"Tell me, Turbo."

"You're in no condition—"

"Crash that," Wayne cut him off. "My eyes might turn green in two nanos, but for now I'm in my right mind, and if—did you say Dr. Bingen?" Wayne's expression went from grim to surprise.

"Yeah," Turbo answered warily.

"Dr. Hildegarde Bingen?" Wayne pressed.

"That's her. According to Dot and Capacitor, she's the best surgeon in the system."

"She would have to be," Wayne answered positively. "She wrote the readme on basic surgery techniques. Every med student reads Dr. Bingen." His face clouded. "She's been semi-retired for minutes."

"Capacitor and Dot persuaded her to come out of retirement to take a look at Matrix," Turbo said dryly.

Wayne closed his eyes. "The station. The virus…"

"You OK?" Turbo asked anxiously.

"Yes," Wayne answered. "I'm just exploring my new memory tree." He opened his eyes. "Matrix. He's—"

"Slave-disked," Turbo finished heavily. "And there's no way to remove the interrupts without causing permanent damage. Or worse."

Wayne slowly shook his head. "There's got to be a way," he said slowly. "I need that cadet's code." He looked up at Turbo.

Turbo closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Look, I can get Doctor Bingen in here to show you if you want, but I've seen the scans. Megabyte didn't just corrupt Matrix's PID, he hotwired the poor kid's source code. There are cascade triggers wrapped around just about every processing algorithm. Set just one of those things off, and—" Turbo shrugged sadly.

Wayne paled. "Let me talk to Doctor Bingen, Turbo."

"There's nothing you can do, Wayne."

"Let me be the judge of that," Wayne said, a little more firmly.

"All right," Turbo sighed. "You never did know when to quit."

"There's no such thing as the no-win scenario, Turbo," Wayne murmured. "Not when you can't afford to lose."