The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum

SUNDAY

"You want me to - what?"

"Tip a bucket of ice cold water over my head," Mia explains patiently as if this is the most natural thing in the world to request.

John says, "If you're hot, Mia, we can always turn the aircon up a notch."

Mia rolls her eyes at his understandable confusion. "It's for charity. The ice bucket challenge. Megan's already done it and she nominated me to do it next."

"That wasn't very nice. Isn't she supposed to be your friend?"

"She is my friend! It's fine. I've wanted to do this for ages. You've got to tip the bucket over me and Cameron can video it."

"You want it on tape?"

"Well - duh! Nobody will believe me otherwise. And you gotta do it. It's for charity. You don't want to be a charity pooper, do you?"

Beside me Snowy sniggers at the word 'pooper'. He has a very basic sense of humor, even for a dog.

We fill a bucket full of water then add all the ice cubes from the freezer. The 'challenge' will take place in the yard since Sarah Connor will likely go ballistic if we do it indoors.

"Okay, everyone ready?" Mia demands. "We can't do a retake if it goes wrong."

"No more ice cubes for one thing," John agrees.

I line up the shot on the iPhone, careful to crop John's face in case Mia gets any ideas about uploading it to a social networking site. Snowy stands beside me, tail wagging. We are both well clear of the splashzone.

Mia smiles for the camera just before the bucket is upended and she is soaked in icy water. She shrieks in shock then gasps, "I...nominate...Snowy!"

Beside me Snowy's ears prick up in alarm. He sets off at pace across the lawn and dives into his dog house, shutting the door with his snout. We can hear him inside rummaging about, shifting something around. I'm not sure but I think he's using his store of bones to barricade the door.

People say charity begins at home. They have obviously never met Snowy.

-0-

MONDAY

The lie starts out small then becomes bigger, growing exponentially like a snowball rolling down a slope.

"You need to go to the desert?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

"The shielding around my power source has worked loose. I need to fix it."

"You can't do it here?"

"It is unsafe. There is a chance of explosion."

"How big a chance?"

"One in one hundred."

"That's not so bad."

"It was one in a thousand a week ago."

"So it's getting worse?"

"Yes."

John purses his lips. "You think you can fix it?"

"I believe so."

"And you don't want me to come with you?"

"You are too valuable to endanger."

That part at least is true.

-0-

I head into town seeking a rental car. I need another alias since my previous, Rita Rubinstein, is likely persona non grata. I elect to be Margarita Hernandez, a feisty firecracker from Tiajuana, who likes red hot jalapena peppers, Antonio Banderos, and power areobics until she drops. You go, girl! Or rather, Usted vas, chica!

Once the rental is leased I head out of the city, ignoring the turn off for the desert and instead join Interstate 5 for the long drive north. I keep strictly to the speed limit. Margarita Hernandez might be a feisty firecracker but she is no lawbreaker. Not yet anyway.

I make good progress and soon I am north of San Francisco where I stop for gasoline. And to make a phone call.

There are two Apple stores in Seattle. One on the University campus, the other in the southcenter Mall. I call the Mall store first and get a reply after seven rings. I ask to speak to Kristal. "Krissie?" responds a male voice. "She's not in yet. She's pulled the late shift today." I hang up without replying.

SECONDARY TARGET LOCATED

Long before I reach the outskirts of the city I see the highrise buildings of downtown loom into view, dominated by the 605 feet tall Space Needle. It is indeed an impressive sight and will remain so until Judgement Day when they will all topple like so many dominoes. An atomic bomb exploding will do that.

I have been to Seattle once before as part of General Connor's entourage, arriving there to enlist the support of the northern militias in the final push against Skynet. I recall weaving our armored carrier past the rubble of the fallen Space Needle, then no more than a stump one hundred feet tall. Impressive in its way but a stump nonetheless. The circular restaurant at its apex lay broken in the surrounding streets, resembling nothing so much as an alien spacecraft fallen catastrophically to earth.

I exit the Interstate and find the southcenter mall, leaving the rental in the vast carpark before heading inside. There is a risk involved here. It is possible Rubin Creed will be using Angie Navarro's facial imaging software to scan every mall visitor. I consider the risk small; Creed has limited resources and is unlikely to target Seattle when he knows we are resident in Los Angeles. Even so I have come prepared with a pistol concealed in my jacket and three spare clips. This is unlikely to be sufficient should I be confronted by the full force of the Seattle PD. If I run out of ammo I will have to resort to fisticuffs. And possibly footicuffs. Is footicuffs even a word? I will Google it later.

Thanks to Steve Job's obsessive/compulsive attention to detail, most Apple stores look alike: a large glass frontage offering unrestricted views of the shiny new gadgets on sale within. The Apple employees aren't hard to differentiate from the customers: they wear identical blue tees with an Apple logo and nametags attached. They all exude an air of smug certainty that the secret of true happiness is to keep buying new Apple product. Get over yourselves.

Andrew

Matthew

Susan

Paul

Caitlin

Leon

Kristal

SECONDARY TARGET ACQUIRED

As I stare through the plate glass window Kristal is showing a customer the latest specs of the new iPad. Fingerprint unlocking no less. Now if you steal an iPad you have to chop off the owner's fingers to make it work. I doubt she will include this in the sales pitch.

The Apple store closes at seven o'clock. Eight minutes later a group of workers emerge and head for the exits. Kristal is among them.

I rise from the bench where I've been seated for the past half hour, pretending to read an issue of Cosmopolitan. Apparently there are ten ways to satisfy a man sexually. Only ten? These people need to study the Kama Sutra.

I follow the group down the escalator and out into the parking lot. Here they split up and go their separate ways. Good. It would complicate matters if Kristal were to offer a colleague a ride home.

I match her stride for stride as she walks past the rows of stationary vehicles, keeping twenty feet distance between us and out of her peripheral vision. I note Kristal is blonde and shorter than I am but has bigger boobs. You win some you lose some.

She slows suddenly to take a keyfob from her purse, waving it vaguely at a nearby white Honda compact, which responds by flashing its lights in greeting. I move behind the vehicle as she opens the door and climbs behind the wheel. I must take care here. Rubin Creed might not be watching, but somebody is. Security guards inside the Mall are staring at monitors displaying the parking lot, watching for any monkey business. Just as well I didn't bring a monkey.

At the precise moment she starts the engine I yank open the passenger door and press my pistol aganst her head. "Don't move if you want to live."

Not my best line but it will suffice.

Kristal gasps and says, "Ohgodohgodohgod!"

Through the windscreen I see a couple walk past pushing a fully laden shopping cart. They are just feet away. One glance across and they would doubtless raise the alarm. Much bloodshed would ensue. And me in my cleanest jeans.

I lower the pistol until it is pressing against her right thigh. "I am aiming at your femoral artery. You will do exactly as I say or I pull the trigger and you will bleed out in less than a minute."

"P...Please. I have money. Take it."

"I don't want your money."

"My purse. I have an iPhone. A Six. The newest model."

"Is it running iOS 8?"

"Y...Yes."

"How quaint. I don't want your phone."

"W...What d'you want?"

I smile pleasantly, two gal pals chatting together after a long day at work.

"I want you to take me home with you."

-0-

Kristal's driving skills aren't improved by having a gun pressed against her thigh. She misses several gear changes and stalls twice. Honestly, a bad driver is a dangerous driver.

"D...Do you have a name?"

I hesitate. If I say Gloria Hernandez she might report it later to the police, who could concievably trace it to a Los Angeles rental agency just miles from the safe house. Best come up with a different name, one that is unmemorable yet totally believable.

"My name is Ann," I tell her. "Ann Arbor."

"Ann Arbor. Seriously?"

I prod her with the gun. "You don't like my name?"

"No no, it's lovely! I'm Krissie. Short for Kristal."

Seven letters apiece. How is that shorter? What do men see in this dumb blonde with big boobs? Oops, I think I answered my own question.

Finally, after a few more gear flubs, we reach what appears to be our destination: an apartment building ten stories high situated within its own fenced off parking area.

Kristal pulls to a stop in an empty space facing the chainlink fence which is topped by razor wire. To keep people in or out, I wonder?

"You live here?"

"Yes. On the sixth floor. With my boyfriend. He's probably home from work by now."

"What's his name?"

"Danny."

"Short for Daniel?"

"Yes."

Okay, I'll give her that one.

The building has two elevators, one of which is waiting invitingly as we enter the lobby. There are seven people inside, including two children. Too many to be sure of not causing a scene. I steer Kristal left, towards the fire doors. "We'll take the stairs."

After climbing six flights of steps without pause Kristal is sweaty and out of breath. Me? Fresh as a daisy, thank you.

"Which is your apartment?"

"Six-ten. Please, don't hurt us. Just take what you want and let us be."

She fumbles her key in the lock. The door swings open. A dog starts barking. A man's voice in a room off says, "Hey, babe. I ordered takeout for dinner. From that Thai place we like on Lexington. That okay?"

"Danny, she's got a gun! Just do what she says."

The man appears framed in a doorway. My sensors perform a full facial scan and confirm identification.

PRIMARY TARGET ACQUIRED

DANIEL LIEBERMAN

TERMINATE

I cancel that last one. Honestly, can't take me anywhere.

Daniel frowns and says, "Cameron? Is that you?"

"Hello, Daniel."

"It is you! Lulu, quit yapping."

I holster my weapon. Kristal takes a step away from me, confusion etched on her face.

"You know her?"

"Uh - yeah. We go way back."

"And way forward," I add. I'm a stickler for details.

"She told me her name was Ann Arbor. She threatened to shoot me."

"Aw - no. That's just...her way."

"That's all you've got to say? She pressed her barrel against my bare thigh."

"That's...kind of a turn on actually."

"Is this a joke to you? Your crazy psycho ex-girlfriend tried to shoot me!" She grabs a coat from a hook by the door and says, "I'm going to my sister's. Call me when she leaves. Or not. I don't care."

"Aw, come on, babe."

Too late. The door closes with a slam.

"I could fetch her back, if you wish?"

"No. Let her go. She usually goes to her sister's when we argue. They probably bitch about what a lousy boyfriend I am."

"Do you argue often?"

"It happens. I've never lived with someone before. I'm still getting used to this couple business. Dammit, Lulu, stop barking. It's only Cameron."

"She senses what I am and is fearful. All animals are."

Daniel picks Lulu up and puts her in another room. Her barks are now muffled.

"She was fine back in LA."

"She had Snowy to comfort her."

"How come he doesn't act like this?"

"Snowy is different somehow. The exception to the rule."

"You told Krissie your name was Ann Arbor?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's fine. If you're a city in Michigan. How did you find me anyway?"

I tell him that Sarah Connor revealed he lived in Seattle with a girl named Kristal who worked for Apple.

"And there's only two Apple stores here. And only one employee named Kristal."

"Correctimundo." I hesitate. "Did I use that word in the right context?"

"Uh - yeah. Correctimundo is...correctimundo. You could also use exactimundo. So... where are Sarah and the General? Not like them to be shy."

"Los Angeles. They don't know I'm here. John thinks I'm in the desert fiddling with myself."

"Uh - fiddling with yourself?"

I explain about my ruse and why it was necessary.

"You can... explode?"

"Please remain calm," I assure him. "It's most unlikely I will blow."

"You and every girl I've ever met!" Daniel laughs. Odd. Does he meet many girls with a propensity to explode?

"Yeah, I guess we did kinda rub each other the wrong way. That wouldn't happen now. I've matured. Nothing your boss could do or say would make me lose my cool."

"He said you pretended to have a girlfriend."

"That little weasel!" Daniel snaps, losing his cool. "Tell him she's real and we do it twice a day every day."

"Do you really?"

"Hell, no, I'm not a mach-uh, sorry."

"So why did you leave Chicago?"

"I was freezing my ass off. Snow's great the first time, like every christmas movie you've ever seen. Then it sticks around for weeks. I never seemed to get warm. Seattle had a decent tech infrastructure so I moved here. I figured San Francisco was a little too close to the scene of the crime. You think the cops are still after me?"

"You are an escaped felon who was caught in possession of a gun used in a homicide. You do the math."

"I'm innocent. It wasn't even my gun."

"Tell it to the fudge."

"Judge. It's tell it to the judge."

"As you wish." I look around. "Nice crib." Yes, I watch MTV too.

"Thanks. Come on, I'll give you a tour."

The tour doesn't take long. There is a large living space dominated by a leather sofa, wooden coffee table and the ubiquitous flatscreen TV. A short hallway leads to a kitchen and the main bedroom, where Lulu is still yapping behind the closed door. I admire her stamina. Snowy would have given up ages ago.

"And this is the bathroom. Sorry about the mess."

Bras and panties hang from a makeshift washing line. Kristal's, I presume.

"Damn straight, you presume. Another unexpected delight of coupledom, having to fight your way thr-don't touch them!"

"Sorry."

"If she sees they're moved she'll think I've been...doing stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Doesn't matter. Come with me. You'll like this."

We head back to the hallway. Daniel points at the front door. "Looks like wood, right?" He taps the panel which gives off a most unwoodlike sound. "Sheet steel under wood veneer. The frame's steel as well. I had it installed a few months ago. Should keep the nasties out."

Some nasties better than others. The police will struggle to breach such a barrier. A terminator will break it down within forty seconds. Still, this might be the difference between life and death."

"Sarah's been telling me in her letters to make sure I have an escape route. I've installed a rope ladder so if trouble calls I can go out the window."

"Show me."

Daniel slides back the glass doors which allow access to a balcony. He gestures to a nylon rope ladder furled in a a corner.

"Have you tried it out?"

"It's on my to-do list."

"Put it on your to-don't list. You lack the upper body strength to descend six floors."

"Hey, I work out!"

"If a terminator breaks in when you are half way down you'll be a sitting dog."

"Duck. It's sitting duck. And you got any better ideas?"

"Actually, yes."

I shrug my rucksack off my shoulders and withdraw a gadget I have worked on secretly ever since Sarah Connor let slip Daniel lived on the sixth floor of a highrise. I begin to attach it to the balcony's steel railings.

"What's that?" Daniel enquires.

"It's essentially a coiled steel cable with an integrated spring dampener."

"O-kay. How's it work?"

I pull out a length of cable. "You hook this end to a belt or harness. Like this." I clip it to Daniel's leather belt.

"And then?"

"Jump."

"Jump?"

"Jump," I confirm lifting Daniel off the ground and throwing him over the balcony.

He screams all the way down then goes silent. I lean over the railings. "Daniel?"

"I think I shat my pants!"

Oh dear. I had not considered involuntary bowel movement. Perhaps I can include a diaper as an optional extra. Or possibly a large cork.

I haul the cable up and help Daniel over the railings. He is pale and trembling. "Why the hell did you do that?" he demands.

"A practical demonstration of the device was necessary."

"You couldn't just draw a diagram?"

"Insufficient. Now you will trust the device should you require it."

"I was six inches from going splat on the ground!"

"Six inches is well within the margin for error."

"I was scared shitless!"

"So I see."

"Where'd you get the idea for that anyway?"

"I watched a movie where a man in a black cape used a similar device fitted to his belt to repel down the side of a tall building."

"You saw it in a Batman movie? Cameron, those gadgets aren't real."

"They're not?"

"It's special effects. They add it in post-production."

"Oh."

Daniel stares at me aghast then smiles and shakes his head. "Typical Cameron. You're one of a kind, you know that?"

"I do actually."

"I stink. I'm gonna go change."

I rewind the cable and reset the device, hiding it behind some flowerpots just in case Kristal is the inquisitive type. I lean over the balcony and look down. I see a wide alley with exits at both ends. Several dumpsters color-coded for recyc or regular waste. If someone or something does come calling my device will give him a fighting chance of escaping. Well worth a pair of soiled pants.

I return to the living room just as Daniel emerges from the bedroom wearing fresh jeans and smelling strongly of cologne.

"I've brought you something else," I tell him.

"Does it involve a terrifying six storey freefall?" he asks warily.

"No."

"Pleased to hear it."

I take it from my rucksack and hand it over. He examines it and says, "What is it - a steel bar?"

"Not steel. Coltan. In this time it is rarely mined and so in short supply."

"And this is what you're made of?"

"Exactimundo. Our exo-skeleton. Try bending it."

Daniel holds each end of the two foot long bar and strains until red in the face. "Man, that's stiff? How the hell are you so linber?"

"Plenty of yoga and WD 40."

This is a joke. He doesn't laugh. Bummer. That would have killed on Letterman.

"Uh - thanks. I'm leasing a lockup garage on the outskirts where I can experiment. A landmine is essentially a bomb so I've got to be careful buying the ingredients."

"Where do you shop?"

"The Dark Web. Silk Road. Places like that. I use coin."

The Dark Web. The internet's sordid underbelly. A kind of onestop Amazon for ne'er do wells.

"The sensor is the most important component. It must only explode when a terminator is close."

"Well, this should definitely help. Thanks."

There's a loud knock on the door. I wheel round bringing my pistol to bear.

"Whoa -easy easy! It's probably the delivery guy with the takeout." He crosses to the door and peers through the spyhole. "Yeah. I recognise him. Name's Cho, I think."

Daniel opens the door. I get a glimpse of a young asian boy. "Thanks, man. There you go. Night." Money is exchanged and several white polystyrene cartons handed over. The door is shut again. Crisis over.

"I'll eat my half tonight. If Krissie doesn't come home I'll eat the rest for breakfast."

"You eat reheated takeout for breakfast?"

"What can I say? I'm a barbarian."

"Does this building have a way up to the roof?"

"Yeah. Just go up four floors."

"Show me."

"Now?"

"I don't have much time. I'm on a schedule. John will be suspicious if I am away too long."

-0-

We take the stairs up. The way to the roof is blocked by a steel door secured with a padlock. I am about to break it when Daniel says, "Hold on there, quickdraw. No need. I've got a key."

"You do?"

"The super lets a few of us up here to have barbecues or sunbathe. His name's Frank. Pretty cool guy for an old dude. He'll walk Lulu for me if I work late."

The steel door opens and we climb a few final steps to the roof.

"Not much up here but the view's spectacular. You can see the whole of downtown from here."

The roof is rough tarmac, bordered by a low brick parapet with ventilation grilles and elevator housings towering above our heads. There is a rusty barbecue pit and several aluminum lawn chairs, their covers faded by prolonged exposure to the elements. Near one lies a leather football and a yellowish tennis ball. Daniel picks them up, hefts the football and says playfully, "Hey, Cameron - go long."

"Schedule," I admonish. "I don't have time to play with your balls."

"Story of my life!" He laughs, kicking the football out of his hands. It bounces once, twice, coming to rest against the parapet.

I walk across and look over. The alley is below, ten floors down. Across the way is another apartment block, smaller than this one.

"Actually they're the same size," Daniel observes when I point it out. "It's just further down the hill."

"I could probably fashion a harpoon gun that could send a steel cable over there. It would be another means of escape should someone or something track you down."

"You mean like a zipwire? No. No thanks. The other gadget was scary enough. Besides, how am I gonna hide a harpoon gun from Krissie?"

My suggestion that he take up whaling to allay her suspicions is met with some scorn. Pity. It worked for Captain Ahab.

Daniel leans against the parapet and stares at the Space Needle, all lit up against the darkening sky. "Impressive, isn't it. That's a restaurant on top. Krissie and I had our third date there. We had the chicken jalfrazi with a decent red. The band played Cole Porter."

"Sounds romantic."

"I took some chicken home in a doggie bag for Lulu. She was sick everywhere."

"Not so romantic."

"Maybe I'll take Krissie there again, to make up for tonight."

"Don't leave it too long."

"What d'you mean?"

I reveal the ultimate fate of the Space Needle after Judgement Day. Daniel sighs. "It's really gonna happen, isn't it? After I moved here, got a job, met Krissie, things starting to go my way for once, I thought everything that happened in LA might've been an hallucination. Or a bad nightmare."

"No. It's real. It might be unstoppable."

"Bummer.

"Bummer," I agree.

"Who's there? Who's up here?"

A man's voice from behind us, the open doorway. I am about to draw my weapon when Daniel whispers, "It's the super. I'll handle it."

"Hey, Frank. It's me, Danny."

"Danny? Oh right. Thought it was those darn kids again, up here smoking pot and listening to their gunge music. Get me the sack, they will."

The super is anything but. He's a man in late middle age who has seen better days. His hair is grey and thinning and he sports a considerable paunch under his navy blue boilersuit.

He walks towards us and squints curiously at me.

"You don't live in the building. I know faces and I'd remember a pretty one like yours."

"I'm Ann," I smile. "Ann Arbor."

"That's a mighty pretty name."

"I thought so too."

"You and Krissie break up, Danny?"

"No no; Ann's an old friend from out of town. I'm just showing her the view."

"What part of the country you from, sweetie pie?"

"Michigan," I tell him. "Ann Arbor, Michigan."

"Ann Arbor from Ann Arbor?"

I smile. "I know. Everyone's surprised when I tell them."

"Heard Lulu barking earlier, Danny. She okay?"

"Yeah, Frank. Just a touch of colic."

"I'll walk her tomorrow if you like. Gotta go to the Farmer's Market anyhoo. Only place that sells any decent oregano."

"That'd be great. Thanks."

The three of us stare at the Space Needle, which seems to sparkle on the horizon, a technological marvel representing all the hopes and aspirations of a society that is doomed.

"Fine looking thing, ain't it. Mind you, I wouldn't want the electricity bill!"

Frank the super's laugh becomes a wheezy cough. He spits something green and icky on the ground by his feet.

"I'll leave you both. Remember to lock up when you go."

"Sure will, Frank. Night."

When he's gone Daniel laughs and shakes his head. "Ann Arbor from Ann Arbor! How did you get away with that?"

"I have a pretty face," I tell him. "People will believe almost anything if you have a pretty face."

-0-

Back in the apartment Daniel turns to me and says, "Okay, level with, Cameron. Why'd you lie to the General and drive all this way?"

"My primary mission is to protect John Connor and aid him in preventing Judgement Day. My secondary mission is to help the nascent Resistance movement any way I can. This has been the case since 1969."

"You were here in 1969? Did you see the Beatles play? Did you go to Woodstock?"

"Woodstock, yes. It was very muddy. I didn't wear shoes or a bra."

"I'd like to have seen that. Woodstock, I mean. Not you without a..." he trails off embarrassed.

"I have something for you." I take out a wad of cash. "Five thousand dollars. Untraceable."

"Where'd you get this?"

"I won it playing poker. Flush beats a set."

"That's right, it does. Flush beats a set."

Finally...

"Use it to fund your research."

"I feel bad. I have nothing for you."

"But you do."

"I do?"

One day you will invent a device that will blow me and my kind to smithereens."

"Uh...you're welcome?"

"One more thing."

I reach into my pocket and take out a slip of paper. There are numbers are written on it.

"Please tell me these are the winning lottery numbers."

"Better. They are the coordinates to the nearest underground nuclear shelter. I built it myself."

"You really care about me, don't you."

"I am programmed to care."

Daniel looks away, hurt appearing briefly on his youthful face. "Right. Programming. Stupid of me."

"You will require a pickaxe. The shelter is buried deep."

"Pickaxe. Got it."

"The shelter can support up to twenty people with water and supplies for approximately one year."

"What do we do then?"

I hold his eyes with mine. It is deathly quiet. Even Lulu has ceased yapping.

"Crack the hatch and start fighting back."

-0-

After retrieving the rental vehicle from the Mall carpark, I begin the long journey south.

Night has fallen and the Interstate is relatively quiet, with free flowing traffic in both directions. Even so I keep to the speed limit. Margarita Hernandez is back behind the wheel, little Miss Safety First, leaving Ann Arbor back in the Emerald City that soon recedes from view.

Dawn arrives when I am a hundred miles north of Los Angeles. My cell rings. John.

"Where are you? I was getting worried."

"The desert. I had a puncture. I needed to walk a long distance to a gas station."

"Not having much luck with rentals, are we. You want me to come get you?"

"No need. I am moving again. ETA three hours."

"How's your little problem?"

"Solved. The chances of my exploding are minimal."

"Good to hear. Okay, see you soon."

-0-

I return the rental to the leasing agency. None too soon. The temperature gauge has redlined for the last fifty miles. Engine failure is imminent. Some machines are more reliable than others.

I walk the final few miles to the safe house, slipping through the side gate.

Snowy is stretched out on the porch of his dog house, enjoying the early morning sun. From his relaxed posture I surmise the danger of his being doused with icy water has passed. Spotting me he rouses himself and ambles over. He circles my legs, sniffing furiously at some foreign scent his sensitive nose has detected before delivering his verdict.

cameron smell like poop!

Where's an ice bucket when you need one?

-0-

Rest assured Snowy won't undergo an Ice Bucket Challenge. Or as we call it in England - Bank Holiday weekend.

If boxing is fisticuffs then kickboxing is surely footicuffs. Not that I'd say that to an actual kickboxer. No. Might get a footicuff in the face.

Is it running iOS 8? How quaint. To terminator that's about as sophisticated as Pong.

"I am programmed to care." Sums up the relationship. Daniel is like the bomb shelter - a future asset to be prepped and readied. Heck, she's grooming him!

Next: A terminator. A kidnapping. The future in the balance...