The Essential Laws of Human Robotics

Part Two

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Baymax

Even with Baymax's expansive vocabulary, there are still a few words from Hiro's lexicon he has yet to understand. He can pull up their definitions from his database and recite them at a moment's notice, but his limited experience gives him only the most clinical understanding of their meaning, especially when it comes to popular slang terms. Among them is the word creepy, which Baymax is beginning to feel fits this situation.

The robot's lack of understanding is not for lack of trying on Hiro's part. Baymax's charge has made sure he understands the literal definition of the word: causing an unpleasant feeling of fear or unease. But it's the context for those feelings that stump Baymax. Hiro has tried to explain that while the abandoned student hospital near the university campus is creepy, but the newly bankrupted hostel on the corner lot is just sad. The balding stranger who shouts insults and waves a baseball bat on his front porch is creepy, but Mrs. Matsuda's insults and seeming ignorance of normally accepted standards for personal space is funny. Exasperated, Hiro had once told Baymax that "creepy is just something where you know when you see it." (Except that Baymax obviously doesn't.)

He understands it now. Something about the three robots approaching them—for they are clearly robots, though it takes Baymax a moment to grasp this—causes an unpleasant feeling of fear and unease in Baymax. Or it would have, had he been able to experience emotion as a human does.

Their pale, flawless faces are perfect replicas of the smooth, contoured skin Baymax expects of a human being, but in the glow of the fire, it becomes clear that they lack the minor imperfections or even pores that distinguish them as real, living beings. Despite this, they are somehow convincing, or at least they might be were the rest of their bodies crafted with such attention to detail. Instead, the human faces form pale masks on otherwise grey and obviously lifeless bodies. The material of their chest cavities is clear enough for Baymax to see strips of wires and control boards laid out neatly where their ribs and spines should be. Their expressions are devoid of emotion as they approach, dark eyes staring intently at the two humans Baymax cradles, Gogo in his arms and Hiro leaning more and more heavily against the robot's side as he succumbs to the heat.

Baymax still doesn't know if he understands the definition of creepy as Hiro puts it, but Baymax thinks the anxiety settling over him may be a match for the word. There's something disquieting about the mixture of humanoid features and robotic function, or maybe the vague sense that the three of them could easily overpower him, weighed down as he is by the limp bodies of his companions and with flames at his back. Baymax doesn't understand why their unexpected arrival has caused him such concern, but it may have something to do with the ambiguity of their purpose; they approach calmly and surely and without a single word.

But the most unsettling thing of all is the fact that they possess the strange consciousnesses that had so troubled him earlier, a vaguely humanoid thought pattern with significant enough distortions to make Baymax uneasy. If Hiro had asked him earlier what he might have thought of an advanced robotic system with humanoid processing capabilities, Baymax might have been interested. Now, he finds it grotesque, unnatural. Almost frightening.

They pause about three feet away, possibly sensing his uncertainty; the ambiguity about the presence of a threat makes him wonder whether he should shield his friends from harm. Instead, wishing Hiro were able to offer guidance, he says politely, "It is important that my friends receive medical attention. Please stand aside so I can move them from the building."

They regard him coolly for a moment, and Baymax decides that if they don't—or won't—speak to him, he will be forced to fight his way out, leaving the decision as to whether they are friends or foes for later, once Hiro and Gogo have returned to themselves.

Instead, the robot in the middle, whose stature and facial features appear vaguely male, says, "We're under the orders of Alistair Krei, and his order was pretty much 'do no harm.' So we'll get you to safety if you just follow behind us." The robot jerks its chin toward Hiro and Gogo. "You got those two on your own?"

Assistance would be helpful; however, Baymax finds himself unwilling to hand either of his friends over to these strangers. A moment of adjusting puts Gogo over one shoulder and Hiro over the other. Not exactly ideal for opening their airways or from keeping them low and out of the worst of the smoke, but Baymax has no alternative. As it is, it is inevitable that both of his friends will suffer minor lung problems. "I am prepared to follow."

The robot nods, and the three of them turn as one to lead Baymax through the smoke, though not the way he'd meant to go. "We must return to the exterior of the building—"

"That's not what we were told," one of the robots interrupts, this one with more rounded features. They have not stopped moving, and after an instant of hesitation, Baymax follows them. "There's a medical bay further this way, if you're trying to get them help."

"I do not understand," Baymax returns, hurrying behind them. "The facilities are damaged."

"For now, yeah," the robot agrees, "But it's being dealt with." This time, the robot barely turns its head to speak to Baymax, who finds that their humanoid statures make them as fast as his friends are—though Hiro and the others usually keep his size in mind. Baymax has never been a particularly fast walker, due in large part to his girth and the size of his legs, and he has to work to keep up with the foreign robots.

"The authorities have arrived to put the fire out?" Baymax asks, following them down a narrow corridor. The flames here are not as bright and the structural damage not as severe as the rooms they are leaving behind.

"No. It's being taken care of internally," replies one of the robots. Baymax is unsure what this means, but as they pass a series of darkened rooms, his optical feeds register movement from within. Other robots, all of them with the same pale masks for faces and grey bodies, are working to put out the fires, throwing a strange white powder that causes the flames to flicker and die. Overhead, the sprinkler system begins to flicker on and off sporadically, as if someone is trying to jump start the system.

"Did you start the fire?" one of the robots asks Baymax suddenly, drawing his internal processes away from his optical observations. Her face—Baymax believes the facial features are meant to be female, but he supposes there is no easy way to be sure—morphs for the first time into an expression Baymax recognizes: suspicion.

"We did not," he replies immediately. Overhead, the sprinklers finally stay on, pouring a spray of water that quickly drenches them all. "A friend of ours was monitoring the facility when it became apparent that the alarm had been set off. We wished to be sure all was well."

The suspicion takes a moment to ease away completely. "Nice thought," she tells him at last. "But we have it under control." Baymax finds the sudden appearance of emotion on her face fascinating: never before has he known a robot to be able to portray so keenly the feelings that Baymax once thought were reserved strictly for human use. To have the ability to convey expression through the manipulation of pseudo-muscles is an advanced form of technology Baymax has never known. If he were more capable of human sentiment, he might have felt jealous.

The water soaking through his friends' clothes is making both of them steadily heavier. Baymax is incapable of feeling fatigue, but the added weight reminds him that they need attention urgently, and moving too quickly from severe heat to cold water may not be best for their recovery. Still, the robots appear to be guiding him toward the more secure interior of the facility, where Baymax still senses the presence of other robots like these. It seems that his best option is to hope the medical facilities are close at hand.

Without Hiro present to guide the conversation, Baymax finds that it falls upon him to move the discussion in a beneficial direction. "I assume by your question that you believe the source of this fire was not accidental?" he asks.

"We doubt it," the round-faced robot replies. His eyes slide sideways to glance at Baymax, a gesture Baymax knows in humans to indicate wariness or distrust. In robots, he does not know. "Hard to be sure who's responsible, but no matter the cause, we've been told not to harm any strangers in the building." This last part is said with a twist of the lips that might indicate displeasure.

Hiro or Gogo might have known what to say to smooth away any suspicion, but Baymax is uncertain what could help. All he has is his curiosity, and so he asks, "Are you normally instructed to harm people within the building?"

"No. We don't hurt anyone unless told to do so."

"By Alistair Krei?"

"Yep."

Baymax hums as he processes this, an oddly human habit he has noticed himself doing more and more frequently. "What is your role in this facility?"

"We do what Alistair Krei tells us to," replies the female-faced one, and her tone is curt, indicating a displeasure that even Baymax registers.

He remains silent as they move out of the area drenched by sprinklers and into a dry, undamaged series of dark and windowless rooms. Baymax's night vision compensates for the lack of light until they step through a corridor and into an area that has retained its power. At the end of the corridor, the robots pause long enough to use the controls on a keypad to unlock the door.

They step into an open testing floor rimmed by empty workstations. All of it is lighted and sleek and smooth, completely untouched by the flames, and Baymax wonders whether this is by design: perhaps Krei had crafted his laboratory with more expensive, flame-retardant materials in the heart.

"Baymax." The robot's aural processing software recognizes the voice as Krei's even before he has a chance to turn and see the human. Krei looks immaculate, his clothes as polished as if he had just stepped from the stage of one of his product demonstrations instead of being hidden away in his burning facility. He also looks shocked, almost hesitant. "It is Baymax. Correct?"

"That is correct," Baymax replies, but Krei has barely paused to let him speak. Instead, glancing at Hiro and Gogo, he waves his hands at the three robots who had guided them in.

"Stretchers," he says firmly, his voice resounding through the empty room. Over his shoulder, Baymax can see other robots, similarly mechanical and pale-faced, stepping from shadowed doorways. "Bring them to the medical ward. Now." Then, to Baymax: "I assume they'd rather have this done here than in the hospital. At least here, they can keep their identities a secret, if they want."

The robots move wordlessly as instructed; a moment later, stretchers are procured from somewhere. Hiro and Gogo, both unmoving, are transferred onto them. They breathe shallowly but consistently, and Baymax hopes that they will experience no respiratory complications.

The dynamics of all of this throw Baymax off-kilter, the way Krei's face jumps from emotion to emotion without allowing the robot adequate time to analyze and process them, the way the robots around him wear no expressions at all. But if there's one thing Baymax does understand, it's a situation involving medical need. Hiro and Gogo are both unwell, and that's enough for Baymax to prioritize his healthcare software above all else. Without a word, he discards all attempts to analyze the situation in favor of waddling beside the robots without a word.

"You didn't cause the fire," Krei says, suddenly appearing beside him. Baymax isn't sure whether it's meant as a question, or whether Krei expects a response. His visual processors are currently focused on Gogo's chest as he monitors her breathing, but they catch the intent look on Krei's face as well. The robot decides that the tech giant is likely waiting for a reply.

"We did not," he states at last. Krei doesn't look particularly surprised.

"Hmm." They step into a room whose fluorescent lights cast such a strong glare on the white walls that Baymax needs a moment to refocus. Like the other rooms in this area, it is windowless and pristine, with an open blueprint and floors of grey vinyl—but Baymax instantly recognizes it as a hospital ward. Lining the walls are a series of stasis beds and dimmed state-of-the-art med screens, all with standard dividers for privacy. Baymax feels instantly at home here, more so than he had among the rooms of smoldering foreign electronics, and as soon as Hiro and Gogo are gently deposited onto two of the beds, he steps between them to continue monitoring as the beds whirr to life to scan their vitals.

"I assume..." Krei begins slowly, leaning a shoulder against the wall near Gogo's med screen. "You're telling the truth, then. At least, the truth as you understand it. Unless you'd been previously ordered to lie about it, which seems unlikely...I imagine neither of these two predicted you'd be left to fend for yourself in this situation."

After a moment, Baymax decides Krei is simply thinking aloud, as the expression goes. He wisely keeps to himself the fact that Hiro has programmed him to—and is offering additional instruction in—lying at will. Hiro has notified him in the past that many people find it "disturbing" that a robot would have this ability, and it seems unwise to bring it up now.

"Hiro. And...Gogo?" Krei asks. Baymax says nothing, uncertain. Their identities are meant to be a secret, and he is unsure whether he should indicate anything in the affirmative now that Krei has guessed. Krei seems to understand his predicament, because the man smiles. "It would have been wiser to use code names when using armor," he explains. "The day they saved me, when they spoke to each other, I heard their names." He pauses. "I've been...well, not monitoring you, exactly, but keeping up with the news about your...team."

Krei might have said more, but Baymax doesn't hear him. The readings on the med screens, slightly more detailed than the ones his mobile health scans will allow him to perform, have finalized at last. They indicate a state of respiratory distress for Gogo as well as swellings of the airways for both patients. In an attempt to compensate for their injuries, both of them have unconsciously begun to breathe more rapidly to increase the amount of oxygen in their bloodstreams—nothing too serious, and nothing that will warrant unconsciousness for much longer.

Still, wall panels at the head of each bed slide away to provide oxygen masks; with great care, Baymax removes Hiro's and Gogo's helmets to place the masks on their heads, careful to avoid moving their swollen throats too much. Krei looks on in fascination.

"So you're a member of their team. Big Hero 6," the man states slowly, suddenly closer. Baymax continues to ignore him. "But you obviously have healthcare programming as well. What kinds of initial processes do you have? And—there's no obvious interface, but I'm assuming you have one?"

With these questions, Baymax has a little more help. In the past, Hiro has cautioned him against providing information as to his programming or internal systems. Hiro himself avoids giving out personal information while they are undercover as Big Hero 6, but with Baymax, there is more to it: software hacking is a problem that continues to worry Hiro, though he's taken great strides to prevent it.

"Well?" Krei asks imperiously.

Baymax is unaccustomed to being spoken to in this manner; Hiro and the others have always treated him as a companion rather than a servant. He tries to compensate by adding an additional layer of agreeableness to his voice. "I have been forbidden to provide such information."

Krei nods slowly, unsurprised. "Well. I'm considering adding additional programming to my internal team as well," he says finally, resting his back against the wall again to peer out at something past Baymax. Without looking, Baymax knows he must be staring at the strange robots from earlier. "Your functionality is fascinating," he adds, turning to Baymax again. "I've been trying to develop more humanoid robotic servants. There's nothing comparable on the market right now, which...well, I guess you probably are aware. Robots do menial tasks like construction. Cleaning. Warehouse management. Farming. Banking. Healthcare," he adds, waving his arm dismissively. Baymax makes no movement, but he is nearly overcome by the irrational desire to argue.

"But no one wants a robot in their home, not the ones like we have now," Krei continues, leaning against the frame of Gogo's bed. Baymax wonders if he is meant to be included in this number, and just how little Krei thinks of his mental processing abilities. "For all the stories and the hype, we've never been able to grow the market for home robots. Consumers surprised us, you know—they just weren't buying. And not because the robots weren't useful in their own way. But they're bland and boring. And robotic. My plan is to change that, to make robots that are humanoid enough to be in demand for more than just repetitive, number-driven tasks. Robots that can make their own informed decisions, perform endless types of tasks instead of specializing in one field. Do anything asked of them by their owners."

Owner is a word Hiro has never used to describe Baymax, and he's surprised at how strange the word seems to him. He knows other robots report to users, and it isn't as though Baymax thought himself wholly separate from that—he is very much aware that Hiro is both his programmer and charge—but somehow, the thought of more high-tech and humanoid robots that might compete with him puts him on edge.

He is jarred from his thoughts by the sound of coughing. On the table, Hiro is waking in a panic, struggling to remove his mask. Baymax leans over and touches his shoulder lightly; Hiro's eyes focus on his robot, and he noticeably relaxes. "Baymax?" he says groggily, voice muffled by the plastic of the oxygen mask. "What…?"

"You have inhaled a great deal of smoke. Your airway is swollen in response to the chemicals in the air. With rest, you will be alright."

Hiro nods slowly, his hands still grasping at the mask. "Wanna take this off," he mumbles. Now that he is conscious once more, there is little Baymax can do to enforce the health habits Hiro needs, so he says nothing. Hiro gingerly removes the mask. "Gogo's okay?"

"She is," Baymax confirms, trailing off as Hiro gently shakes his friend's shoulder. Gogo wakes with a start, and her sudden inhalation sets off a series of coughs.

"The hell?" she says at last, ripping off the mask. Her voice is hoarse. As one, their eyes fall upon Krei, whose expression is almost amused. "What the hell? The fire…" she trails off.

"With the help of Krei's security team, you were able to be successfully removed from the worst of the danger in time," Baymax tells her reassuringly, though he is not sure what information she seeks. "Your remain in a state of mild respiratory distress. I would advise against sudden or intense physical exertions for some time."

Hiro is looking around the wide, empty room. "This is...are we still in the same building? It's like there wasn't even a fire."

"Not here," Krei explains, waving his arm dismissively as though the fact of the fire's existence is a nuisance. "The core of the facilities have heavy fire doors. All of my invaluable work is here."

"But your employees…"

"They're aware of proper fire protocol. They know what to do. And my security team," he says this with an amused smile, looking at Baymax as if they are sharing a secret, which Baymax supposes they are, "is helping."

"Not in time for an emergency team to get here," Gogo mutters, pausing to cough into her elbow. "Some of those people were pretty bad off when we got to them."

"And I thank you for that," Krei replies diplomatically. "Although there will be no emergency team. It's part of the protocol. We're completely self-sufficient here."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say I feel strongly about our right to privacy, and I'd rather not have first responders nosing about and asking questions later on. The alarm systems trigger internal security teams only. I'd have to manually request an external team."

"You're saying that the police aren't notified immediately? But Abigail—" Hiro begins, and then he seems to think better of it, shooting a surreptitious glance at Gogo.

For the first time, genuine emotion seems to seep into Krei's expression, a mixture of pain and something that Baymax can't place. "Abigail sent you here?"

Gogo bites her lip, obviously unsure how much their friend would want Krei to know. "I guess she's been monitoring the building. Just in case."

Krei nods slowly. "In case of another accident," he replies bitterly. Baymax has never gotten the sense from Abigail that this is the reason for her surveillance, but Hiro and Gogo say nothing, and so Baymax follows their lead. "I've learned from Silent Sparrow," Krei says awkwardly, a note of defensiveness in his voice. "The project was a failure; investors disappeared—no one wanted to touch portal technology after the accident. The company has had to move on to other projects. The building was completely shut down. Though I understand it's had some new tenants recently," he adds, fixing his eyes on Hiro, who stares back unblinkingly. Krei clears his throat. "This building is well-protected from accidents."

"It doesn't seem that way," Gogo replies belligerently. "Looks like your team caused another accident tonight."

"Internal accidents," Krei says at once. "I should have said internal accidents. What happened tonight was...unexpected, to say the least."

"What do you mean?"

"The fire wasn't an accident. It was arson."

"Arson?"

"We're doing good work here," Krei says at last. "But it's the kind of work that scares people. Advancements in technology always do. We must have had, three or four times, people picketing here about what we were doing at Silent Sparrow, even though the proceedings were meant to be secret. There were threats, that kind of thing. And it hasn't gone away."

"So, what...you're saying someone is trying to destroy your work?"

"That's the best guess. Maybe more than that, too—it's fairly well known that I tend to work into the night with a more private team. Maybe they thought if they could get into the heart of the building, they could take care of things once and for all."

Hiro coughs. "You don't seem all that scared," he observes.

Krei shrugs. "Not much they can do. The facility is protected. And my team is here to keep us safe."

"Well, tell us this. What exactly is going on in here that an outsider would be willing to burn the place up?" Gogo asks.

At this, Krei looks into the room from which they had come. As if on cue, the trio of foreign robots approaches them. Hiro and Gogo turn with mild interest, and then Hiro's eyebrows rise.

"Sir?" The female-looking robot says.

Krei shakes his head, addressing Hiro and Gogo instead. "This is what we're working on. The most humanoid robots currently available."

"Most humanoid?" Hiro murmurs, slipping from the medical cot and onto the floor. "Can I…?"

Krei nods, and Hiro approaches the robots as easily as he might have approached Baymax, who must quash the urgent and irrational urge to grip his charge by the shoulder and pull him back.

At first, his face is impassive as he circles the three robots, occasionally bending to inspect seams or to peer through the translucent interior to check the wiring. After a moment or two, however, his eyes slowly narrow into a squint, and he begins to look intrigued. "What kind of material is this?" he asks. "It's hard to make out, but they're polymeric...and interlocking, aren't they? For flexibility?"

"The inspiration was natural. Fish scales," Krei explains, looking pleased. "As for the construction—well, I can't say too much, but it's a self-healing, supramolecular material with anti-penetration qualities. Flexible enough to bend without breaking, and resilient enough to stand up to anything."

Hiro's low whistle confuses Baymax for a moment until he pairs it with the raised eyebrows. He's impressed. "Smart," he murmurs. "Baymax's skin is only somewhat resistant to damage—since his purpose is more to be huggable than to be durable. That's what the armor's for." He reaches out to brush a hand over the material of the foreign robot's arm, and Baymax once more feels the irrational urge to tell him not to. There is no logic behind it, and the robot wonders where the sentiment comes from. Hiro drops his hand, looking up at Krei. "A little tougher than I'd expect from a commercial bot, though. Are these military?"

Krei shakes his head adamantly. "Not at all. I just finished explaining it to your robot, as a matter of fact: we're just following the market, and the market wants residential robots. Even if it's a need they aren't yet aware of." His smile here is probably meant to be charming, Baymax thinks.

Hiro grips the nearest robot's wrist gently, turning it in the same casual way he has a thousand times before with Baymax to inspect his seams or to look for potential damage. This robot, however, jerks the appendage away violently, an expression of annoyance crossing its pale face. Hiro steps back, startled, and the quick inhalation sets him off into a fit of coughing. It isn't the dramatic occurrence Baymax had originally feared, but this subtle one may well have been an explosion. Such a display of defiance is virtually unheard of among functional robots, as far as Baymax is aware.

"You can stop touching me now," it says sullenly. "I'm not a toy."

"Sorry," Hiro says at once, clearing his throat, although he still appears confused.

"What the hell?" Gogo interjects slowly, taking a step closer to position herself at Hiro's side. "I don't think I've ever heard of a robot programmed to be...grumpy."

"I'm not fucking grumpy," the robot says, at the same time as Krei replies irritably, "It's not supposed to be."

Silence. "Bug in the system?" Hiro asks finally.

"Something like that."

There is an odd moment of quiet in which the robot folds its arms over its chest, and its expression is as close to glaring as Baymax has ever seen a robot get. Its counterparts behind it have moved closer in an oddly reassuring way. Baymax has seen similar behavior in the bar fights they have occasionally been called to break up, fights in which human allies cluster together on either side, as though forming small armies. Presently, everyone in the room has arranged themselves into these types of small armies: the three robots stand facing Gogo, Hiro, and Baymax, who stare back in wary confusion. Krei, neutral, frowns at them all.

"That was pretty complex behavior to program," Hiro says at last. There is an odd tone in his voice that even Baymax can't decipher. "Never seen anything like it."

"Thank you," Krei replies, although Baymax isn't sure Hiro had meant it as a comment, just as an observation. "I've done a lot of work on these."

"Can I ask what kind of coding?" Hiro says finally, his voice polite. "The emotional mimicry is spot on."

"I'm afraid it's classified until the project is in its later stages," Krei says kindly, a winning smile on his face. "You understand."

The statement sounds logical to Baymax; after all, Hiro has forbidden him from revealing the details of his own programming to anyone else, and for very good reason. Krei seems to have even more reason to be secretive, as it is in his best interest financially to keep the details under wraps. However, Hiro and Gogo, both of whom are more familiar by a great degree with the nuances of human behavior, harden their expressions in nearly indiscernible ways; had Baymax not been so familiar with the study of their mannerisms, he might not have caught the the fleeting frowns.

Hiro, at least, visibly relaxes after a moment. "Still impressive," he says finally, turning back to the robots, whose posture remains unchanged. "So...you're going more for the droid market, then. With the humanoid…" he gestures vaguely with his hand toward the trio in a way that seems to mean all of this. "It'll be cool to see. Most of the droids I'm familiar with are one-task wonders. Can't really think through complex processes, and definitely can't emote like that."

The tone of fascination in his voice is enough to make Baymax pause. Certainly he can't emote in the same way as the robots have.

"So the fire," Gogo says impatiently. "You're saying people broke in here to set the place on fire because of them?"

"From what I've gathered, it's the best guess. I haven't exactly had the opportunity to sit down to chat with them."

"What can you tell us about them? You know who they are?"

Krei looks at Gogo appraisingly. Recently injured or not, Gogo is capable of affecting a fierce, determined look. Baymax finds it easy to recognize now: the furrowed brow, grit to the jaw, haughty stare.

"My understanding is that it's a group of luddites," he says at last. "They protest technological advancements, saying we're taking things too far, going in a direction that's unnatural. The word is that they branched off of the Earth Liberation Front a while back, but their ideals have grown pretty different. Nowadays, they call themselves Technotage. You might have heard of them on the news in the past few years."

"Yeah," Gogo replies slowly, frowning. "Didn't they…I think they destroyed a factory that was making new drones."

"Geoengineering, too," Hiro adds. "They shut a place down about a year ago. Or at least they claimed responsibility for it."

"And their latest fear is AI technology," Krei replies.

"How do you know it's them?"

"Nothing official yet, but there have been other incidents in the building. Damage to some of our systems, evidence of break-ins. Around two weeks ago, I did contact law enforcement—a first for me, I might add—to have an investigation done. All signs point to them, especially now that they've updated their online propaganda to go into detail about their stance on artificial intelligence technology, stating that what we've created is too advanced, that we're messing with living consciousness, something we shouldn't be messing with."

"But they're not—" Gogo cuts herself off, her eyes sliding over to the robots and then to Baymax.

"Alive? No," Krei agrees. "But for some people, it seems close enough that it doesn't matter. And some people take the horror stories of apocalyptic science fiction to heart. Their worries are unfounded, of course—as with any of our research, we're careful about all we do."

Hiro frowns thoughtfully. "There must be a way to make them stop," Hiro says.

Krei shakes his head. "They have no leader," he explains. "No formal hierarchy. They operate in secrecy, with multiple cells around the world. There's no tracing their finances; they're completely self-funded as far as anyone knows."

Gogo and Hiro are silent, and Baymax tries to imagine what must be going through their minds. "An invisible enemy," Hiro says at last. He is rubbing his throat, which must still be bothering him.

"Not quite. The police were relatively helpful," Krei says grudgingly. "They have some idea as to the location of Technotage—nothing they can act on without more clear evidence, but enough to convince them that there is a distinct possibility that one of their bases of operation is in the dregs of Setsuzoku, in the station near the expressway overpass. That's not to say that it is truly there, or that that particular cell can claim responsibility, but it's a start, if nothing else."

"The overpass, huh?" Gogo asks, eyes wary. "Around Greenwood?"

Krei looks up. "Are you familiar with the area?"

"Somewhat," Gogo replies noncommittally. Baymax refrains from mentioning that Gogo is practically an expert in all things pertaining to the Setsuzoku area.

Krei eyes her for a time. "It would be helpful—" he cuts himself off. "It is perhaps unfair of me to ask this, and given our past history, you have every reason to refuse. But from all of the news reports, I get the impression that your aim is to be...well, maybe 'vigilantes' is too strong a word. But surely helpful to the common citizen, if nothing else—and you've already made a point of helping tonight. So I feel obligated to ask for your help. It seems almost as if you were meant to come here."

Gogo and Hiro exchange meaningful glances—or at least Baymax assumes they exchange some sort of meaning, but their message may as well have been heavily encrypted. "Help how?" Gogo asks warily.

"Nothing overly difficult. Just...perhaps a patrol in this direction every now and then, to keep an eye on things. The androids will be more than enough to keep an eye on things from inside, and they should be sufficient to take care of any issue inside the building, but they are restricted to the interior. It would be helpful to have eyes on the outside as well—"

"We can't," Hiro interrupts.

Gogo glances at him in surprise. "We could."

"No, I mean—we have the time, for sure," he adds at once. This is certainly true: Hiro, a freshman, and Gogo, a junior, have much more free time than the other three on their team, all of whom are currently swamped by their senior theses. Hiro gives his friend a sheepish look. "But it isn't just the three of us on the team, and...you know how the others are about group decisions. Especially…"

Gogo sighs irritably, but she looks back at Krei. "We can't add an extra patrol," she agrees, shrugging one shoulder. "But we spend time in Setsuzoku every now and then. If we happen to hear anything interesting…"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know," Krei replies evenly. "Thank you."

Hiro says nothing, and Baymax has a hard time deciding whether he agrees with Gogo or not. Eventually, the silence becomes long and uncomfortable, until Gogo begins to cough into it.

"But you must be exhausted. And—well, your robot did an excellent job of first aid, but it would be wise for you to rest."

"Yeah, I think it's probably time we left," Gogo replied.

"Can I offer you a ride back?" Krei says politely. "I imagine it might not be best to exhaust yourselves further after your injuries."

Gogo does not reply, only pulls her helmet on.

"We'll be alright," Hiro replies. Baymax is glad for this: he isn't sure how fully he trusts Krei, and he's satisfied that Hiro and Gogo likewise appear to have their misgivings.

"Then let me show you out."

They walk a different way than they had come, down well-lit corridors untouched by flame. The clean, windowless rooms might very well have been in another laboratory altogether, one that had not been the target of an act of terrorism. They are silent as they go, and Baymax is thankful, at least, that the trio of robots does not follow.

Krei leads them through a last door that opens into the dark of night; it has only been a short time, but the world somehow feels very different than they had left it. Gogo and Hiro murmur respectful goodbyes to Krei, who thanks them once again for their aid, and then they are off.

Baymax feels better once Hiro, appearing dazed, has clambered onto his back and they can jet away into the night air. Below, the lights on Gogo's bike thread toward the winding road back to the heart of the city.

Once they have left the perimeter of Krei's facility, a burst of static cracks along their transmitter. From the way Hiro winces, it is too loud for his ears. "Guys? Guys? Are you back? What's going on?"

"Sorry, Abigail," Hiro replies, sounding as alarmed as Abigail does. "Didn't mean to worry you. The place had some way of blocking transmissions."

"You're okay? Honestly, I almost called the police—I probably should have, as soon as all your stats went offline, but I figured it was just a side effect of the place, and then the system logged you back on, so—"

"No, it's fine."

"I don't know what good the police would have done anyway," Gogo interjects. "Krei doesn't seem to be too friendly with law enforcement these days."

"Krei?" Abigail says, flustered. "But—you spoke to him? What did he say? What happened? Are you okay?"

"We're okay," Hiro replies. "Mostly, I guess."

"Things went south," Gogo adds. "And by 'went south' I mean my hair better not be burned because I literally just dyed it again."

"Okay. So what happened?"

"It's a long story," Hiro replies, and something in his voice sounds very tired. Gogo must register the same warble of fatigue. She picks up the story from there, speaking in a low voice in the dark of the night, the dozing Hiro an unmoving and heavy weight on Baymax's back.

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A/N: Soooo four months later, here's part two! Apologies for the super long delay - I got the chance to move to a different country, and it's kind of been a whirlwind! I was not aware before, but moving is definitely not for the fainthearted :/ Now that I'm settled, the rest of the chapters should come more quickly.

Please leave a review on your way out to let me know what you thought!

~ket