Chapter 13

Light-years away, in a rocky planet in the Sol system, in an unusually large country upon which a city with a tower surrounded by a force field that held back an angry mob, and in the presence of two soldiers and a windbag, an unusual event was taking place.

Isaac Sumdac was angry.

"This is absolutely outrageous!" snapped the portly scientist, "The Autobots did everything they could to help this city and this is how you intend to repay them!?"

"Repay them!?" snapped the balding man in front of him, "They destroyed well over half the city! 60 people are dead, and over 300 are homeless!"

"You know as well as I do that most of the mess was caused by the Decepticons, Mr. Simmons," he pointed out, "the Autobots never wanted to be here, and Sumdac Systems has already agreed to cover the repairs. Something I would appreciate that you would remind the crowd outside of."

"And why is that, huh?" countered the bureaucrat, "What possible reason could you have to pick up their tab? A little deal under the table?"

"You could call it that," agreed the older scientist, "but one does not stand against one's family."

"Ah, yes. The cyborg," he grunted in disgust, "the White House is still waiting on her reports. How exactly does a being like that come into existence?"

"That information will only be released with her approval," he responded curtly, "until then, you'll have to be satisfied with the official story that it was caused by an encounter with the Allspark."

"You got guts, I'll give you that," he growled, "but nothing escapes Sector Seven's eye. Nothing."

"This country is not what it used to be," stated Isaac coldly, "You don't have the resources you need to spy on me."

He pressed a button on his watch, causing several popping sounds around the room. Simmons looked around startled as the surveillance bugs he'd brought with him fell to the ground. He'd had enough.

"Listen here, you fat lab rat!" Simmons growled. "This is above her, above me, and above whatever competitive advantage you're selling out this country's integrity for. You think I don't know what's going on? You want to use alien technology in your next batch of robots! You are selling out your own species to pig out on the profits!"

"IF the Autobots choose to enrich our own knowledge of servo mechanics with their own biology, I will in no way complain," he admitted, "but so far such an agreement has not been reached. I am picking up their tab, as you put it, because I owe them my life. They saved my daughter, Mr. Simmons, and I would gladly build this city by hand for them."

"They nearly killed your daughter!"

"They protected her when I couldn't trust a single human being on this godforsaken dirtball!" snapped portly man as he stood, enraged, "I trusted machines because you did nothing when Porter took away her only home!"

"We had no choice! ALL of her files went missing when she did!"

"What matters is that they were there for her when I couldn't," retorted Isaac, "when your people should have put her in a safe home, an orphanage even, the stranded alien robots had to step in and do your job for you! Those machines are more humane than any human I've ever met!"

"So that's it then!" declared agent Simmons triumphantly, "you don't think that humans should be the rulers of this planet!"

The look that Isaac gave Simmons was enough to get even the stoic soldiers that had accompanied him to snicker and could be best described as "did your parents feed you lead as a child?"

"Oh I'm too old for this," groaned the scientist as he simultaneously pushed a button and rubbed his temples with his right hand.

Agent Simmons was about to ask what the button did when the CEO's desk suddenly split itself in half to reveal six rotating barrels.

Josie Beller wasn't entirely certain as to what she was supposed to think at this point. She'd accepted the job out of equal parts morbid curiosity and a desire to salvage her name. The seven figure pay check was also a good incentive, she had to admit.

A total of thirteen scientists specializing in different fields were to work on this project according to Professor Sumdac, aided by their assistants. At the moment they were gathered in a circle of the waiting room they'd been placed in, introducing themselves whilst their eyes darted to the elevator on the loft and to the clunky prototype androids that marched around the room.

"Well, um, hello," said the first man awkwardly, a skinny Vietnamese man with black hair and too much hair gel, "my name is Chi Thi Dang and this is my wife, May. We are neurologists, I personally specialize in neuron mapping."

"I believe I read up on your work," said another scientist, a man with ratty red hair, "oh, where are my manners? I am Barton White, stem-cell bioengineer," he turned back to the couple, "I think you managed to program knowledge into a chimp's brain?"

"Yes, we used electrochemical stimulus to teach a chimpanzee how to navigate a maze he'd never entered before," replied May, "he navigated most of the maze before the knowledge faded and he got lost."

"What happened to the chimp?" asked a portly Hispanic woman with greying brown hair next to her, "sorry, Amanda Lopez. I specialize in superconductors and quantum computing."

"Well, his brain could not really handle the stress and his health degenerated in a way similar to Alzheimer's," admitted the husband, "he survived. He's just not doing much anymore."

"Well, I suppose you could still use him for research," said a blonde woman next to a brown-haired man, "Oh, I am Carly Witwicky, this is my husband Spike."

"Afternoon," said the man next to her, "we specialize in plastics and other petrol-based materials."

"Oh, you invented Quick-Set foam, right?" cut in a short, brunette woman, "I'm Tessa Yeager, social anthropology." She turned to the man next to her, who gave a curt nod in greeting. "This is my dad Cade, he's a metallurgist."

"Yes, we stumbled across it," confirmed Spike, "it was an accident really, but one we're grateful for. The royalties injected some funds for our research."

"But not enough, if I had to guess," said Cade, leaning back on his chair with his arms crossed, "I guess that's why we're all here, waiting for an update on a project we know next to nothing about."

"We had some financial issues," admitted Carly, "the raise Mr. Sumdac offered would help us put our children through college, and we were offered a grant for personal research."

"I suppose money still runs the world," grunted a tall, powerfully built man next to Josie, "I'm Leland Bishop. Like the rest of you, I've had my share of progress and drawbacks, more of the latter than the former. Twenty years ago, I invented the hardware to wetware patch that makes exoskeletal motion assistors possible. I haven't had a breakthrough in a decade, and was eventually laid off from USR two months before they closed."

"Thank you," said Josie before she could stop herself, "I'd be in a wheelchair if it weren't for you," she looked around, noticing the expectant faces of her fellow scientists, "I guess it's my turn. My name is Josie Beller, I specialize in nanorobotics, particularly in medical applications. I was diagnosed with Guillain–Barré syndrome when I was sixteen and have since lost use of my legs."

"Wait, I know you," cut in Barton, "you melted a monkey!"

Chi blinked in surprise, "Why-? How did you even-?"

"I attempted to merge nanobots with a test subject's cells," she explained, "the cells didn't quite accept the nanobots and the monkey's immune system attacked the nanites. Then the nanites malfunctioned, and began… eating the test subject."

"Yeowch." Winced Cade.

"During a demonstration," the assembled scientists winced in sympathy, "at the Blackrock Polytechnic children's hospital," another wince, "on live nationwide TV."

"Yeesh," groaned Spike, "I remember that. Danny's still having nightmares."

"Nightmare that must've been," agreed Leland.

"I was in a hard place," she confirmed, leaning forward to cup her chin under her palms, "so yeah, when the Isaac Sumdac asked me to join, I had to answer."

"Vell, zis is all vell and good," said the final member of their team, a short and dangerously skinny man with a German accent, "vut I hope ve're all here for somezing ozer zan money. I am Scott Alexander Pelesky, I specialize in 3d nanoprinting. Please call me Al, I really don't feel like a Scott."

"Your last name's not exactly German," pointed out Amanda.

"My parent's vere immigrants," he explained, "Germany vas ze safest place during ze var in Europe, so zey visely chose to move."

"I'm not gonna pretend I'm the smartest scientist in the world," cut in Cade, "but I think I can count. Weren't there supposed to be thirteen of us? I think we're two eggheads short of a baker's dozen."

"Well, Professor Sumdac will probably work with us," pointed out May, "but that'd still leave one spot."

"Maybe he didn't show?" proposed Amanda.

"Does anyone actually know what we'll be doing?" asked Tessa.

"Yes," called in a new voice, making the assembled scientists turn to see Professor Sumdac emerge from the elevator, "we are here to build new life."

After a few seconds, it was Carly Witwicky who voiced their collective question. "What?"

"Before we begin, this is your last chance," he warned them as he walked down from the loft, "Anyone who doesn't wish to continue after we explain may walk out with a year's pay in their pocket and a non-disclosure agreement."

He reached the bottom.

"Any questions before we begin?"

"Where were you?" asked Spike, who was then elbowed by his wife.

"I was having an ice cream break."

Ten minutes ago

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a despicable human being?" asked Agent Simmons while he shoved another spoonful of frozen yogurt into his mouth, mildly noting the dripping nozzles on the six barreled monstrosity that Isaac kept in his desk.

"Why does everyone say that after seeing my ice cream machine?" wondered Professor Sumdac as he enjoyed his chocolate ice cream.

"THAT! Is the most misleading ice cream machine I've seen in my life!"

"I thought it'd be convenient to have many flavors in it," continued the scientist in defense of his precious machine, "it was one of my first inventions. I actually considered opening an ice cream parlor when I was young."

"Really?" said the government employee, "You make a robot minigun and the first thing you think of is putting ice cream in it?"

"Everyone loves ice cream. War? Not so much."

The two soldiers that had escorted Agent Simmons had barely recovered from being aimed at with a fairly good impersonation of a minigun that apparently shot different flavors of ice cream from each of its nozzles. William Lennox and his partner, Robert Epps had thought that Isaac was a fairly sensible guy up until then. He didn't flaunt his wealth and his only real eccentricity so far had been living in a tower that was protected by a force field. This, however, settled it.

Rich people are crazy.