5. Clothes Horse

It was late enough that her secretaries had gone home and as per his usual habits he didn't bother to knock or announce himself, but just walked in. As per her usual habits, Mandy was at her desk finishing up paperwork.

"How's the Megabot?" she asked without preamble, not looking up.

If he liked one thing about Mandy, it was definitely her habit of getting straight to the point. Few things annoyed him more than minced words.

"It will be ready for testing next week. Are you volunteering?"

She finally looked up, surprised that he would remember her offhand comment about wanting one, and seized her chance. "Yes. I called first dibs."

"Have Pixel contact Dr. Weiss and Chief Bar – where is Pixel? You didn't lose him, did you?"

"Not hardly." She gestured with her pen at a corner of the desk. Pixel had his back to them both, his legs dangling off the edge. He was wrapped in a dish towel pinched from the cafeteria. Kicking his little legs and pouting slightly, he looked thoroughly dejected. "He's what I want to talk about."

"Did you insult him?" asked Dexter, scooping up the tiny version of himself. He gave her a look as if she'd aimed a kick at his cat before scrutinizing Pixel.

"No. He started this on his own. We got Tennyson's field report about everything going on at the Finger Lakes region and the next thing I know I've got a depressed Nano."

Dexter and Pixel engaged in a brief tug-of-war to get the towel. Dexter won and tossed it on the desk. Pixel squeaked and pouted, looking highly offended as he stood up and squared off against his creator. "Ridiculous, Mandy, he's a compu- what is he doing in ducky pajamas?"

He gaped. Pixel was defiant in his blue-with-yellow-duckies PJ's and bunny slippers.

Mandy smirked. "It's past his bed time."

"He doesn't need sleep!"

"Well, that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it, Brainiac."

"Pajamas?" echoed Dexter.

"He's got a raincoat and hockey gear, too, and a Blue Falcon costume."

"What?" breathed the Boy Genius, flabbergasted.

"Turns out he's a fanboy. Just because you've got thirty copies of the same outfit in your wardrobe doesn't mean he has to. You programmed him to learn, didn't you? Well, he's learned he's a clothes horse."

"Hockey gear?" Dexter's voice was getting progressively fainter.

"Show him, Pixel, or he'll just keep repeating everything we've said."

Pixel jumped and spun in mid-air, sparkles flying, and when he landed he was in a cartoonish version of Dexter's own stylized hockey gear, complete with helmet, stick, and skates. Mandy tossed a binder clip onto the desk. Pixel skated around as if on ice, guiding the clip with his stick like a puck before delivering a hard whack that sent the clip sailing. It landed neatly in a plastic container filled with similar clips. Pixel cheered himself on and took a victory lap around the desk.

"He's good," muttered Dexter, his astonishment visible to the naked eye.

"Well, of course he is, Brainiac, he's you."

"Not quite." He blinked. "Was that a compliment?"

"A fact. I've seen you skate."

"He's learned to manipulate his own energy to move things."

"You didn't expect that?"

"No. He's surprised me at every turn."

"Isn't that what he's here for?"

"He's here to help you and interface with Computress."

"And I've got no complaints," she admitted. Not even she could find fault with the Nano's performance.

"Good. So you needed me to come here why, exactly?"

She glared, and it struck Dexter that her eyes were almost the exact shade of gray as the Professor's. He'd never noticed before. The light in them could not have been more different for all the color was the same.

"I already said – he'd depressed."

Dexter stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Pixel, meanwhile, had reverted to his ducky pajamas, retrieved his towel, and cocooned himself in the fabric.

"See?" demanded Mandy. "He's sulking."

"And this just started?"

"No, it kicked in after I heard from Tennyson. He still works and does everything I ask, he's just . . . depressed."

"He's a computer," Dexter said through gritted teeth.

"Want my opinion?"

"If you insist."

"He's lonely."

Dexter gave her a look of disbelief, then snapped, "Pixel, run a diagnostic. Display results and the results from last week's test."

Pixel sighed, and then charts and graphs and reams of numbers filled the air, bathing the office in greenish-blue light. Dexter frowned, comparing one week to the next.

"Display results from two weeks ago. Three weeks."

Dexter walked through the projections, picking a few screens out with a touch and lining them up for comparison. He gestured and all the rest of the data vanished. For a long while he stood and stared, one purple-gloved hand pressed to his mouth. He didn't notice when Pixel rose up beside him, imitating his clothing and stance and expression.

"Well?" asked Mandy.

"I expected him to learn and respond to your habits in order to anticipate your needs. He is programmed to give the appearance of happiness. He has surpassed that capacity and . . . he has acquired emotions."

"You sound surprised."

"I did not give him that capacity!"

She leaned back in her chair. "Well, apparently you did."

"No, Mandy. That was not my intent when I created him. He was programmed to learn. Instead, he has grown."

The Supreme Commander of Earth's Combined Forces shrugged, unconcerned. "So you're better than you know."

"Don't you see there is an inherent danger here?"

"Dexter, everything is dangerous from having emotions to not having them. We're both living proof of that. You built him. He's based on you. You have emotions, so why shouldn't Pixel? You get bummed every time Tennyson heads back to the font. Why shouldn't he?"

"He's. A. Computer!"

"No, Pixel's a Nano. Maybe you'd better figure out what that means."