Alan watched the machinery pump the slurry onto the printing surface. Nanotech would then take the mixture and transform it into the very specific form he had designated. It was fascinating, almost like magic. With slurry and nanotech, he could create anything he desired. Emtonium was the product of this process. Food of all nature was part of this process. The best part, slurry is 99.9% recyclable. Marvel of modern ingenuity.

He had been combing over the book Jaye gave him. He found the construction of spells almost algorithmic. To create fire, one would need fuel, oxygen, and heat. A spell that turned water into an explosive gas, plus a spell designed to increase speed, could create fire. He built a learning program to study most spells. Many simple ones had two forms. There was a reagent version where one would procure frog’s legs and eye of newt. There was also an incantation form, where it was built around images in your head. It appeared that there was a direct correlation between the two. They were a one to one language translation. The incantation was machine language, the bits that make a computer program work. The reagents were like a class library that contained many common functions to ease the programmer's work.

More difficult spells, requiring reagents like unicorn horn or dragon scale, did not have an incantation version. Alan suspected that they just hadn’t found this yet or didn’t feel comfortable putting it into this book. Given access to a few of the low-level stuff, it might be possible for his program to discern these mysteries. Things got interesting for him when he could touch the machinations that make things work, not unlike the slurry, which was now building some extra sensors that would go into Stitches next form.

The basic assumption was that magic was real. Something that has yet to be fully verified. The luck demonstration was fairly convincing, but it was probably that Jaye was glitching after having hardware updater. The rose was more powerful. Jaye and Chekhov ran every test conceivable, but could not determine what happened. The water was the same before and after with the sole exception of the color. Alan wasn’t a botanist, but he suspected the addition of the rose should have done something to the water.

If magic were real, it may never be available in quantities that he could interact with. He wasn’t going to cross the emtonium bridge to Pierce’s realm anytime soon. Kimiko may get a chance to go with a small squad. Jaye might get to venture into that library they saw. Certainly, Dr. Rosenberg would insist that he get to go, once he was certain danger was at a minimum. Alan wouldn’t get to go. He wasn’t even invited to the inaugural opening, although it looked like his skill set might have been beneficial.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Alan became alert, fantasies of becoming a wizard faded from his head. Dr. Rosenberg came around the corner. He paused briefly and then started walking toward Alan at a slower pace. “Alan... I’d like to apologize... I’ve been a little curt lately. The stress of opening the bridge was too much, I think.”

“Things probably would have been smoother if I were there,” Alan responded. He didn’t turn to face him but gazed firmly beyond the machinery in front of him.

“You know, essential personal.”

“Turns out I was essential.”

Rosenberg opened his mouth to say something, then turned toward the machinery himself. “Are you going to make another one?”

“It’s been approved and deemed necessary.” There was always something a little off-putting about how the doctor talked about agents. Subtle phrasing choices that reflected a view that he never says aloud. Alan turned toward the old man. “Kimiko isn’t doing well, she fights it. We have no medical personnel down here, and we are now cut off from the world. The drones do a decent job of treating physical injuries, and I can handle the cyber components. Neither of us do well where the two worlds overlap. If there is something wrong and she needs surgery, who will perform it? Do we trust a drone that is a sophisticated version of a web diagnosis program? Should I start cutting? I’m great with a computer, but my hands get a little shaky when I have to make something physically. How long are we going to be quarantined? Kimiko isn’t the only in need of a cyborg specialist. And at your age, a good real check-up might be a good idea.”

“I see your point. At least until you called me old.” He chuckled a little. “I just fear... I just feel like we are losing control. Your little friend, she has a better grasp on things than I do.”

“I wouldn’t call her little, that is worse than me calling you old.” They both laughed. The laughter stopped abruptly followed by a silent pause. “I am afraid Kimiko is under attack. She is fighting it and doing a good job of it. We have to help her.”

***

Alan stared at the painted lines on the concrete floor as he walked down the corridor. Chekhov had once joked that he looked at the floor so much, he could find his way around just by looking at the cracks. He was looking for one that was about 1.4 meters long, with a tiny fork at the end. This crack marked the entrance to the cleanroom where he would be installing Stitches’ new heart.

He likes to think his role was important, but he felt like a glorified button pusher. He managed all the drones, but they mostly worked autonomously cleaning the facility. The soul chip he carried is in his pocket just needed to be placed where the machines could find it, they would do the rest. He would supervise the procedure in case something went wrong. The task ahead of him amounted to pushing the button that said: “go.” He wouldn’t even go in the cleanroom. He would watch through a two-decimeter thick pane of plexiglass.

Jaye was waiting for him inside the observation room. “Hi, Alan, I wanted to see this.” Her face was the random noise she often put on when they were alone together. The image was dominated by yellow and pink.

Alan flashed his smile at her. It was a lie-smile. He knew she knew it was a lie-smile, but he did it anyway. Jaye had told him she didn’t like the lie-smile. She was the one who coined the term. Most people would rather you lie to them than tell them you are unhappy, and habits die hard. “Prepare to be impressed!” Three different shades of blue brightened on her face before tampering down behind the pinks and yellows.

He pulled the wrapped chip out of his pocket and placed it in the transfer compartment. When he closed the drawer, it vacuum sealed before beginning the decontamination process. He looked at the clean suit, complete with the requisite oxygen tank, and decided to break protocol and not wear it. “You know,” he said, “that was almost you.”

Jaye stared at the compartment for a moment. “No, it never could have been me. I am me, that would have been someone else.”

“Right,” Alan nodded. “It was a Gen Nine just like Iris. She managed to get special permission for me to develop work on a Gen Ten, using some of Iris’s modifications.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. She knew her story. It wasn’t a mystery to her. He pushed the buttons on the console and the machines whirred to life. He wondered if he even needed to be present.

“Does that make Stitches my brother?” Jaye asked.

Alan pondered the question for a moment. “Interesting perspective. I never really thought about it that way. Half-brother, maybe. Iris had a heavy hand in your development. All she did here was approve the action.” He thought about it further. He shook his head. “In this case, I am little more than a mid-wife. Chekhov and Kimiko probably have the greatest claim to parentage, if they choose to claim it.”

Industrial arms picked up the processer and unsealed the package with laser precision. Stitches' chassis was laying deactivated on a table in the middle of the room. “My chassis is fairly feminine. What would you have done if my chip didn’t match my body?”

Alan laughed at this for a moment. “We would have changed your chassis. You don’t remember, do you?” He paused briefly. “I guess when you are developing primary pathways, your memory doesn’t always write. We built you in a drone skeleton, we let you pick your body.”

“I wanted to be pretty.” Jayes face lit up. Despite whatever else he might think, Alan knew that Jaye genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. “Do you think Stitches will be a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know, there is a chance they could be neither or both. I think I would leave it to Chekhov to make any changes to the chassis.”

“You are a good man, Alan,” Jaye said. It warmed him a little to hear it. They both observed as the chip was inserted into the body on the table. A scanner went in to check for abnormalities, while a micro-wielder queued up to make the final connections and seal up the machine. Alan felt the serotonin in his brain drain as his mood once again reversed course. People thought he was lazy. His work wasn’t demanding. Push a button here, set a schedule there, and that was about it. He wasn’t sure they were wrong.

A klaxon interrupted Alan’s train of thought. He looked at the console. “Error: 0xF7” There was no description afterword. He pulled up a search in his glasses. Before he could fill it out, the laser cutter started moving. Jaye ran into the decontamination lock separating the observation room from the cleanroom.

The cutter pointed at Alan through the window. A large red circle appeared as the laser diffracted through the material. The glass started liquifying at the impact point. It flowed down like lava. That was when the power went off on everything except the cutter. Alan’s night-vision kicked in. He saw Jaye was trapped in the decontamination chamber. Once the cutter made it through, the gas on the other side would asphyxiate him.

There was a moment when he considered that the end would be a relief. That was immediately replaced by the fear that this would be his last moments.

“Alan!” Jaye called, “I can force the doors!”

He returned to the moment. “No! Don’t do that. You would break sterility; you could kill Stitches.”

“The vapor from the melted glass would do that anyway,” Jaye called, but she remained in her place. “You have one-minute twenty-two seconds before the breach starting now!”

Alan started assessing his options. His smart-glasses were cut off from the outside world, as the room was on lockdown. He couldn’t interact with any of the equipment as there was no power to the console. The laser had to have an alternative power source keeping it going. Jaye was looking back at him. Her face was all red now.

He ran to the exit. A quick test revealed as he suspected. The room was completely locked down. He pushed a small spot on the wall. A small panel opened with a small click. Inside was the battery powering the backup door lock. He heard the bolt fall, seizing the door into place, as he unplugged the power source.

It looked like a beverage can with a top designed to receive a power connection. He opened another panel next to the decontamination chamber. He wired the battery to the chamber, which immediately sprung back to life. The process finished, allowing Jaye to enter the chamber.

It looked through the window. The laser was about halfway through now. Jaye was scanning everywhere in the chamber. He was sure she would destroy the laser if she had too, but that would damage the chip for sure.

Alan started singing to himself. “The footbone is connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone is connected to the laser bone, the laser bone is connected to the power bone...” He stopped. Fortunately, his wearable communicator could still talk to Jaye. “Jaye! Two meters from the corner, thirteen decimeters up.” Jaye ran to the location he directed. “Six centimeters to the left!”

Jaye found the panel and opened it. There was a computer and a battery installed. “Unplug it!” A burst of sparks shot out of the battery as Jaye removed the plug. She fell back from the shock.

“I’m okay,” Alan heard her say. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Check the chip for any signs of damage.” He opened up a virtual notepad and added a note. “Add Backup Power to essential systems and lighting in all rooms.” He looked at the hazmat suit and thought to himself, “guess I shouldn’t have breached protocol.”