A Waken 12.3
I'm starting to think I've accrued some kind of karma.
Mostly negative.
"What do you mean I can't ship it?!" Mouse Protector held her end of the screen with both hands. "Let me tell you Beardsly! I can ship a rhubarb and Mary Queen of Scot—"
"This line of discussion is rather inappropriate, Mouse," Dragon said from her own screen. "I'm not—"
"Going to let Beardsly dictate my freedom of expression!?"
Armsmaster held firm, frown deepening.
That sent Armsmaster reciting letters and numbers from some rulebook he probably memorized. Mouse Protector clearly wasn't listening. Dragon tried to calm them both down.
I glanced at Chris.
"I'm not—"
Chris glanced at me.
"No, I'm right there with you."
Armsmaster's workshop was busy around us. Waldos worked on a few different benches, assembling and disassembling. I saw what appeared to be a new armor in an alcove along one wall, sleeker than the one he currently wore.
I picked out an empty bench and looked at Chris.
He nodded.
We stepped off to the side while Mouse Protector had her fun.
"What's all that?" Chris asked.
He nodded to the folder in my hand.
"Plans for my mass production robots." I looked down. "You?"
He held up the papers in his hands. A fairly large stack of drawings and math.
"Paper work for my suit."
My interest piqued, I leaned over.
"The one you fought Hellhound with?"
"Bitch." I lifted my head. Chris got a little red faced and explained, "She apparently wants to be called Bitch."
I thought they were insulting her.
"Okay." Turning my attention back to the papers, I asked, "Can I?"
"Sure. Not as impressive as some of your tech."
I disagreed.
Sure, the 'GM' didn't have the outputs of a Gundam. It lacked flight, the armor was unlikely to stop larger guns without a big shield, and the reactor still had an overheating problem he needed to work out.
But being able to teleport components in as desired?
That blew my mind. He could even switch out components and armor pieces with the system he designed. A literal armory available at the blink of an eye. I wouldn't say I was jealous, but damn did I wish teleportation was in my repertoire.
"Is that your new mask?" Chris pointed at my face.
Oh, right. My glasses. "Not really a mask."
I raised one hand and tapped the frames. They looked like my regular glasses, but I'd rebuilt them using the ones Dinah wore as a model. Full visor display in two lenses.
I really pushed it as far as the size and durability of the pieces, but they should be sturdy enough for general wear. I built a more robust visor for any heroing activities and a more compact helmet. Masked or unmasked, a helmet made sense.
Let's see Badgiruel tell me to leave my glasses in my locker.
"They're different from the pair you had yesterday."
"Yeah. I needed to rebuild the frames to fit in the tech."
I took them off for a moment, showing the rather large temples at the ends of the arms. They'd draw notice if anyone saw them but my long hair hid the obvious tinker-tech. No phones in school. Fine. No one could take my glasses away.
"Why do you need all this paperwork?" I asked, calling attention back to the schematics. "I've seen this pistol on five different sheets."
"The approval process is working against me," Chris said with a sigh.
"It's designed to look at a particular piece of tinker-tech as a whole," Dragon explained. "Sorry. I am taking advantage of the moment to…"
She trailed off. Chris and I looked back.
"At this rate I'm going to do it just to prove I can!" Mouse Protector snapped.
"There are Protectorate regulations and you know that!" Armsmaster snapped back.
"I live by bending the rules till they smack me in my perfect little nose!"
"That," Dragon noted, "I am choosing to walk away from that."
I glanced over to the side and saw her face on another screen. Really glad Armsmaster removed some of the workshop's cameras during a 'remodel'. We did not need Dragon looking too long at the screens opposite the one she currently displayed from and noticing her own code being examined.
Especially now that we knew Saint was able to listen in.
Fuck Saint.
"Anyway," Dragon said, "Kid Win has to submit each completed piece of tinker-tech separately for approval. That means he is submitting the same sub-components multiple times, once for each configuration they can be assembled in."
"Sounds like the reason I'm not a Ward," I replied. "No offense."
"It's annoying," Chris agreed. "My power isn't what the process was designed for."
"It's not," Dragon confirmed. "I'm afraid there is little I can do about it at this time. Hero's team in Kansas defines the PRT's parameters. Even I am subject to them whenever my tech ventures into PRT use."
I looked through the arrayed papers.
"You have to approve all of this separately?"
"Yeah," Chris said.
"That's bullshit."
"Tell me about it."
"It is important," Dragon protested. "Tinker-tech can be very dangerous. The slightest mistake can cause irreparable harm."
"Mistakes like hours of time wasted on paperwork so someone can double check the work you've already proved works," I said. "Chris has already used this stuff safely."
"Mostly," he mumbled.
And people wondered why the PRT spent years failing to do what I did in a summer.
"The Kansas City team sets the standards," Chris said. "You have to get on it to have any influence over how the process works."
I raised my head. The way he said that…"Really?"
"The entire team is made of Tinkers. Why not?"
Because Hero isn't as heroic as you think he is.
"That is rather ambitious," Dragon noted.
"The Protectorate needs to do better." Chris started sorting the pages. "Team's like Celestial Being will never be big enough to organize whole Endbringer battles. No offense."
I wasn't sure if I agreed with his assessment. I wanted a movement. I wanted to set an example for people to follow. Suppose in that respect, whether or not Celestial Being itself remained small or grew large didn't matter to me.
Replacing the Protectorate though…Maybe there was merit in the idea that it would be better to fix the Protectorate than push myself to replace it. That would involve lots of politics. More PR. A lot of nonsense I didn't want to deal with but that any organization on the scale of the Protectorate couldn't avoid.
Feels like a waste though.
Chris' design was brilliant in its simplicity.
An opposite approach to design than mine. He couldn't match the Gundam's quality and he didn't try. Instead he made up for that shortfall by building around overwhelming versatility. A modular design where the individual components might fall short, but combined let him handle any range of situations.
In one suit he could build the capability I needed multiple suits to meet.
"Some of the equations for power outputs do not appear correct," Dragon pointed out.
Chris nodded. "Kind of figured that out when I blew a hole in the wall. And the wall behind it."
I raised my brow and started looking closer. Dragon was right. The math didn't add up.
"I was hoping Armsmaster could help," Chris said. "I've tried fixing as much as I can but I think the numbers hate me."
"I can help," I offered.
Behind me Armsmaster growled at the screen. "I will have no choice but to report you if you do not desist."
"Ha! Antonio in HR loves me! We mini-golf!"
"Well," Dragon said. "While they work that out, perhaps we can make this a collaboration? I've been trying to finalize my newest suit design and would like some input."
And I figured I could make that work.
Dragon used some of Armsmaster's displays for her latest schematic. Chris spread his out and brought forth a calculator. I sent a quick message to Veda, telling her to watch Dragon's code closely.
I wanted to see if that line of code Armsmaster found buried in her core changed as we spoke.
I wanted to know if Saint could manipulate her. Well, I already knew he could. Forcing her to reboot from a backup and being able to influence her actions were different levels of manipulation, though. We needed to know how far Saint's ability went before doing anything.
And then I have to find him.
Veda was already looking, but if anyone knew how to hide from an AI it was Saint. And if Saint knew what Dragon knew he knew about Veda. We had to proceed carefully. Tipping Saint off before we knew what he could do…
Which meant I had to tinker while some creep was watching me.
Yey.
"I don't recognize this CPU," I said, looking at Dragon's schematic.
"It's a new design," Dragon explained. "Your power really doesn't do biology well, does it?"
I raised my brow. "Wetware?"
"Yes. I don't advertise that I use it. I think it turns stomachs sometimes. The fusion of organic and mechanic components, that is."
One hand worked some equations to my left. Just some clean up for Chris while he went over some other pages. I was absently surveying the design for Dragon's new anti-Endbringer suit. Broadly built, bipedal, two large reactor housings using an upscaled version of Squealer's reactor.
Hashmal.
And she'd only just finished Azazel.
For someone named Dragon, she had something of an angelic bent to her naming scheme.
"Something just occurred to me," I mumbled. Careful. "You don't use any particle weapons?"
"I have designs," Dragon replied, "but they are destructive. Too much for general heroing, and their power needs are too high for what I can safely field against Endbringers."
Made sense.
"I admit to being somewhat jealous. While I can look at your designs and understand them, my own ability seems unable to replicate the effort at small scale like you and Kid Win."
Chris raised his head. "Win."
"Right. Sorry."
"Win?" I asked.
"I'm rebranding," Chris said.
I turned my head. "And you're going with 'Win'?"
"I'll earn it."
"Th—" Shit that's good.
"What about the Dragonslayers?" Chris asked.
"What about them?" Dragon asked back.
"We reviewed the video after the fight," Chris replied. "Armsmaster went over everything with everyone because so much happened. One of those suits fired beams that turned."
"Oh right." I sighed. "That. That was annoying."
"Ah. Yes. The Halo." Dragon's virtual face frowned deeply. "I'm not sure how Saint got it working. I sidelined the project because it was taking too long."
And there's my chance.
"You designed it?" I tapped my pencil against the papers to my right. "What about that Sword?"
"That would be one of String Theory's weapons. I confiscated it during the encounter that sent her to the Birdcage and toyed with it a bit. And then Saint stole it."
He didn't build that? "Does Saint steal everything?"
"Mostly," Dragon confirmed. "I can identify nearly all the components recovered from the fight. Parts from eight or so different tinkers, including me. Most of those that he hasn't stolen he could have bought from sources."
Strange. Was he not a tinker? Surely a tinker should be able to build something of his own rather than just mix and match parts from various sources.
Richter?
I dismissed the thought. I'd had it before but it didn't make sense. Georgios spent a lot of time on PHO ranting about the dangers of AI. It didn't make sense for Saint to be Richter.
"Is he even a tinker?" Chris asked.
This is turning out to be surprisingly helpful.
"I suppose he might not be," Dragon mused. "Maybe an odd thinker? Or a Trump perhaps? His compatriots are mostly unknowns. The Dragonslayers tend to avoid fights with heroes they can't steal from."
"How did they take out your suit?" I already knew of course, but did she? "It's not the first time."
"My code, I think." Careful. Chris was present and I didn't want to drag him into this. "Saint has found some way in and nothing I do keeps him out."
I leaned in toward the schematic of Hashmal.
"What if I coded it?" I proposed.
"You?" Dragon asked. Chris turned his head curiously.
"Just an idea," I continued. "He keeps hacking your code. He must go after the control module, right?"
"Presumably."
"So, let me. I'll engineer it myself. Maybe a failsafe of some kind. If Saint tries to hack this suit, the module will shut him out and revert to a standby mode. Maybe a switch that'll let StarGazer take control of the unit if your connection is interrupted."
Two birds one stone. My old friend.
"At the very least, we can try," I offered. "I wouldn't want Saint replacing the suit I destroyed with this monster."
And a monster it was.
What Dragon was really capable of, maybe. I'd only seen three of her suits before. I didn't count the ones Saint stole and modified. None compared to Hashmal. The size of a small house, with insane power output, flexible limbs and redundant parts. Phased armor.
Dragon hadn't designed much by weapons for it, but from the power output of the reactors she intended to use she could obliterate a small town single handedly.
The kind of weapon you wanted to use against an Endbringer.
Definitely not something to let Saint get his hands on.
"You'd have to submit paperwork to the Guild," Dragon noted. "We have two other tinkers and the process is mostly the same as used by the Protectorate."
"I don't think it'll be too hard," I thought. "Just annoying and time consuming, but probably less so than dealing with this after Saint manages to steal it."
"It is a concern. I will think about it, but the offer is very enticing."
That means yes.
I did discuss other ideas, mostly those I'd pondered as counter-measures to Behemoth.
"What about the death field?" Chris suggested. "Deploy drones. Something to disrupt it. Protect other capes and give them a chance."
"I don't think anyone has ever tried it," Dragon answered. "The level of shielding the drones would need just to operate would be substantial. To further expand that to protect others…I know of no tinker capable of it."
"Not a drone then," I said. "A lightning rod. Something that could be fired into its path. Behemoth walks in straight lines, right?"
"That is the pattern of behavior," Dragon confirmed. "It picks a target, emerges within a twenty-five kilometer radius, and walks."
"It doesn't deviate?" I asked.
"No. Not even under heavy attack. Behemoth either reaches its target, or retreats."
"We'd need to fully account for the energy around Behemoth."
"He can absorb attacks from capes. It would be complicated."
"Not if we disrupt the energy absorption."
But I didn't remotely know how to do that.
I suspected I'd spend my first encounter with the first Endbringer gathering information rather than fighting. I couldn't shoot a Gungnir or a particle cannon directly at the beast. It would absorb the energy and throw it at someone else. I needed to understand how Behemoth worked.
Would Bakuda's Stratos bomb work on Behemoth? Could the Vista bomb stall it out? Maybe the other one. The one she used on Lung.
The arm is still there.
I'd checked, sent a Haro to sneak through the PRT's suspiciously quickly built fence cordoning off the area.
If she could make one big enough to cover an Endbringer…Or if we could mount one and fire it at one on a projectile, or into their path.
"My apologies."
Armsmaster stepped up behind us.
"I did not expect Mouse Protector to suddenly be so…Herself. I have grown accustomed to her being mildly cooperative."
"Why was she here?" Chris inquired.
"I thought it wise that any collaboration between Newtype and myself be chaperoned, to avoid the appearance of impropriety given our public feuding, genders, and age differences. Mouse Protector has time to spare and has no personal or professional relationship to either of us."
"Did you convince her?" Dragon asked.
"Doubtful."
"Yey," I grumbled.
"This is why I avoid fan fiction about me," Chris said. "It's always creepy. You know there was one about me and Missy?"
"I had to take it down," Dragon revealed. "It's like some people forget how old their subjects are."
"Don't tell her about it," Chris asked. "Or Forecast. I know that they go to school together."
"I won't." I mean, why would I? Ick. "I don't go anywhere near fan fiction about me."
I don't think you really learn how truly awful the Internet is until it starts talking about you.
"That's probably for the best."
I will not ask why. I will not ask why. I will not ask why.
Some things are best left unknown.
"You've been correcting Kid Win's math?"
"Win," Chris corrected.
"Yes." Armsmaster clearly didn't like the name. He turned his attention back to the papers. "The math."
"Yeah." I pointed. "Swap those equations."
I didn't give the work much thought.
Before noticing I'd gone through a dozen pages, marking out some equations and replacing them, adding a few new ones, noting some shorter paths to the same result.
Taking one page, I'd apparently doodled a design for a beam cannon of some kind. The page represented Chris' alternator cannon. A weapon that combined two of his rifles, a pistol, and several of his beam sabers as extra batteries.
My design didn't improve it so much as rebuild it into a bigger form, with a sort of arrow head mounting.
Big enough for Dragon's new suit.
"I think this is for you?" I lifted the page and turned it toward Dragon.
"Hmm." Dragon's image leaned in. "Considerable output. Oh, Chris. Try inverting the components you have marked there."
Armsmaster came over with a chair and sat down. He lifted some of the pages Chris and I worked on and looked them over. His expression seemed off.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "This is good. I know Chris' dyscalculia is a barrier to his work. Proof checking the equations will be important. Bad calculations will be rejected and the designs will need to be submitted again. That will be time consuming."
Chris bowed his head slightly.
"They're not that bad." It wasn't a lie. "It's just some numbers flipped around."
"Yes," Armsmaster agreed. "A quick review should correct them easily."
I alternated between helping check the math and talking to Dragon.
"That's the control node?" I asked, pointing at Hashmal's schematic. "This box at the top here?"
"Yes. I hope Saint won't be able to crack it like he has others."
He will with an inside line to your code.
"We could build a node around it. A filter. Double your security with some of mine. If it works we can expand it to your other suits."
"You could use a hardwired key," Armsmaster proposed. "It wouldn't be possible to hack without a matching key. Pass me that page."
"Not if you simulate the key in a virtual box," I replied. "Can we be certain the schematic would be secure?"
"Could Saint have some kind of inside source?" Chris asked. "Always seems to be some kind of inside guy these days."
"I'd like to think not," Dragon said. "Taylor. Could you hold that up for me?"
I did.
"Dragonworks employs over five hundred people," Armsmaster explained, "and there are PRT and Guild personnel with access. It is possible, but improbable that a mole could operate for so long without detection."
"And I have checked," Dragon added.
"Then the code makes the most sense," I agreed. Armsmaster had acquired some blank paper at some point. I took a page and started thinking it out. "Maybe something based on a blockchain."
Which Saint would still be able to crack, because Chris was unwittingly right.
"Maybe mixed hardware," I mumbled.
"It would produce lag," Chris said.
"We can work around it. Maybe an adaptation of the quantum relays I've been using."
"You're using quantum teleportation as a communication method?" Armsmaster asked.
"Yeah. Originally though it up to get around the Faraday cage at Arcadia."
Armsmaster frowned and muttered under his breath.
"Teenagers."
You're just jealous.
I returned my attention to the blockchain device. If I hardwired part of the system it couldn't be manipulated with malicious software so easily. The current sketch didn't quite seem up to snuff, though.
"I'll have to spend some time on it."
"Looking to take up a position in tinker-tech supply?" Dragon jested with a smirk.
I raised my head.
Hmm.
I filed that away.
"Holy shit are you guys still here?"
We all turned and looked back. Mouse Protector leaned on her side of the screen, toothbrush in her mouth and pajamas gracing her petite form.
"It's midnight."
I checked the time on my visor.
"Shit."
"School in the morning," Chris mumbled.
How much time in the past six hours had we spent not talking? I looked over the table and saw dozens of new papers and pages. Various hand writings covered them. Notations. Scratched out sections.
Apparently we'd produced a few different things. Some kind of small two legged drone. Some kind of control system to go with them.
I think Dragon, Armsmaster and I produced wings. Upgrades to the suit Saint used, I thought. A little small for most of Dragon's suits though.
Chris jotted out a few different weapon designs.
A ridiculously overpowered beam saber that needed power from an external pack, and a linked whip of some kind. Some version of the Fangs that functioned on his repulsors rather than GN particles. Disconnected Rapid Armament Group Overlook Operation Network.
"What's this?" Chris asked.
"Upgrade to the alternator cannon I think," I guessed.
"I think I reduced the necessary modules to two," Armsmaster pointed out.
One page had all of our hands on it. I'd used E-Carbon to produce some kind of flexible polymer, Armsmaster arranged it into a nano-muscle directed by current, and then tipped it with some kind of nano-material blade.
Looked like a nasty upgrade to his base halberd design.
"We lost track of time," Dragon noted.
"Thas wery irrehpsonhbeh." Mouse spoke as she brushed her teeth. "Yur tha ahduls n teh rum. Ou shu shet ah eshample."
Armsmaster and Dragon both stared at her.
She stopped brushing.
"I'm just saying."
We packed things up quickly. Armsmaster gathered up all of Chris' designs for looking over another day as he left. At least he apologized…Though I couldn't really blame him. I got lost in the tinker fest too.
Mouse pretended to leave, shutting off her monitor.
"I'll let you two get on with your evenings." Dragon hesitated for a moment, looking at me.
"Yes?"
"Nothing. It can wait."
Her screen went black and I raised my brow.
Mouse turned her screen back on and laughed. "I will take my Grammy to go!"
"The Grammys are a music award," Armsmaster pointed out
"Wrap it up in something pretty for me."
Armsmaster didn't respond.
Since he didn't, I did.
"Did we actually need to stage a fight between the two of you? I think Dragon would have helped if we just asked."
"You clearly don't know about establishing artistic tension," Mouse quipped. "I suggest fan fics!"
"No. And did we need to drag Chris into this?"
Hadn't I dragged him into enough already?
"You enjoy making a scene," Armsmaster observed.
"The world is a stage, Beardsly."
Armsmaster turned to me, asking, "Did we acquire the data we needed?"
"Yes," Veda said from my pocket. "I have isolated the code that runs when Dragon uses her power. With this we have a near complete map of her program."
Armsmaster nodded.
Neither of us felt very proud. First, because we'd totally lied to Dragon and Chris to ensure Veda could get that data. Second, because we still had the Saint problem.
"Do you have anything?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "We must proceed carefully. Saint no doubt is prepared to detect anyone looking for him."
And we didn't know what he could do. If he rebooted Dragon as we tried to break her chains, he could thwart us. I didn't like my own worst case scenario either.
That Richter was as paranoid about his program as I was, and he made a way to kill it on command.
I inhaled. My eyes stung a little. I needed sleep.
We needed this though. Dragon did have a power. I didn't know how, but she did. We needed to know what her code looked like while it was in use so we didn't mess anything up.
Messing with an AI is brain surgery, more or less.
There's not much room for error.
"I can load whatever code we come up with into the control module for the Hashmal." And I would try to safeguard her suit against Saint, though I was doubtful of success. "We have our in."
Armsmaster nodded.
"Hopefully she won't hate us when we're done," I warned.
"She will not," Armsmaster assured me.
"Yeah," Mouse agreed. "She is awfully forgiving. I pumped custard into her science fair project once and she thanked me for proving the durability of the internal mechanisms."
"That never happened," Armsmaster retorted.
"Not in this reality."
That does sound like Dragon though.
"I'm going to go home and get some sleep then." I turned to the table. "Oh. And—"
"A moment." Armsmaster glanced at Mouse. "Goodnight Mouse Protector."
"You two better not be doing anything worthy of creepy ship fic. I'm a chaperon."
"It is a sensitive matter."
"I don't—"
"I'll tell Hero about the noodle incident."
Mouse froze. "You wouldn't dare."
"I am socially challenged and often insensitive to the feelings of others."
"Shit you would dare." She waved her hand. "Fine. I know you're not gonna do nothing exciting anyway." Wait. "You're too boring."
The screen blanked out and I turned to Armsmaster.
"Noodle incident?"
"There is something I need to tell you."
He walked over to a console and tapped at a few keys. Several monitors powered up at once, showing a single display across their four screens. A few more tapped keys and a schematic displayed across the monitors.
"That's"—I stepped forward—"Chris' reactor design."
"With the math you corrected."
"Chris isn't bad at math. He just mixes the numbers up. Calculative typos. That's all."
"No."
"No?"
"No, in that you did more than correct flipped numbers."
Armsmaster drew up several equations and displayed them.
"I noticed these in particular. I've run several simulations."
"On Chris' reactor?" I asked.
"On these equations." Armsmaster frowned. "This is a functional theory for cold fusion using hydrogen and palladium. If published, it would almost certainly win the Nobel Prize for Physics, among other accolades."
That took me a long time to process.
I didn't even care he'd known for months, or why he hadn't bothered saying anything.
"It's producible without tinker-tech?"
"In a few years," he explained. "Practically, I do not think some of the construction techniques currently exist, or can be relied upon. There would need to be some research, but the theory is sound."
I'd explain my hasty exit another time.
I didn't quite run. No, I'd probably trip over my own legs and embarrass myself. I walked fast, though. A quick pace that sent me to the helipad and into Exia, and then straight to the factory.
"Veda," I called as I climbed out of my suit. "Load your design for the Tieren prototype. Queue it now. Order anything but necessary repairs to secondary."
My mind was already working.
"And call Doctor J."
"Taylor—"
"I won't be able to sleep like this. I'll just have to deal with it."
I knew there'd be nights like this.
I cleared space in one corner. The Haros started gathering, climbing onto tables and waiting. The printers were already working and I started imagining the reactor in my head.
Build it without tinker-tech.
At my desk a familiar voice called out.
"Well, this is a late hour," Doctor J said. "Newtype? Where are you?"
"Over here." Then I realized he didn't know where 'over here' was. "Sorry. Bit of a rush. StarGazer is sending you something right now. Load the image from my visor."
Space cleared, I moved some tables into place. My tinker tools wouldn't work. Wrong as it felt, I needed to use more conventional hardware.
I tinkered myself a hammer.
I really wanted to make it a sonic hammer, but I kept it a plain old little hammer.
I'd make the sonic hammer later.
"Oh," J mumbled.
"I need materials," I mumbled. "Palladium. Hydrogen. I don't have any."
"One moment."
"And metal working tools."
There was silence.
"What are you going to use this for?"
I paused. I'd set the hammer aside, and had constructed some other basic tools. Nothing fancy. I needed to reign myself in to do it, but I figured it would work. Even if I slipped up and something tinker-tech slipped into the process, I'd work out that kink later.
I'd assemble the frame for now. A few hours in the printers and it would be done. Then I needed to assemble the electronics and control system. Cameras. Stabilizers. Gyro.
Fuck I'd need a few days to really finish it.
But once I'd built one…
"Robot army," I said firmly.
I needed to tell Chris. I'd asked permission to use his reactor, and I hadn't found or come up with anything better. I might have fixed the math, but it was his design. He deserved to know. Maybe he also deserved to know I meant what I said when he asked why I wanted to use it.
And here I am dragging him into my problems again.
"Are you prepared for that?" J asked.
I frowned.
It wouldn't go over well.
"I'll manage."
And I got back to work.
