“Hey, Micky,” she called, climbing the last few stairs up to the high school’s front doors. There was only one elementary school, one junior high and one high school in the whole town. Equally, there was only one school bus. She took it, but her friend did not.

Micky Lealand was a strange sort of boy and Bridget had known this from the moment they met in pre-kindergarten. Tall and gangly, he didn’t have curly hair nor was it straight; it had a unique wiry look that never failed to attract people to touch it experimentally. While he was vastly intelligent, he often seemed to be lacking basic common sense, especially when concerning maintaining reality. Micky certainly didn’t have the cutest face or was the most built boy in town, but he wasn’t ugly either. He was in a category for which Bridget didn’t have a name or definition.

“Hello, Bridget,” Micky replied from his spot near the doors. He was rummaging through his overly packed backpack in search of something.

Bridget stopped in front of him, bemused. “Lost something?” she asked. She already knew the answer.

“I can’t seem to find my pen,” Micky replied, frowning at the bulging bag.

“The one with the red cap?”

“Yeah. Weird.”

“Yep,” Bridget said. She shook her head, unable to hold back a smile. She reached down and plucked the pen that had been hiding behind Micky’s ear and held it out to him. “This it?”

Micky’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “Ah, there it is,” he said, taking the pen. “Thanks, Bridget.”

“You’re welcome.”

He stood, mounted the massive bag back onto his back and they entered the doors together. They didn’t bother with mild conversation; Bridget had learned early on that Micky did not find small talk interesting. To him, words were wasted that way. He only spoke when there was something important to be said. He would ignore her if she tried talking about pointless things, but the moment she needed help or had a serious issue, he would be there to give advice. And he had very good advice sometimes. For this, Bridget knew she could trust him with anything and everything.

“Did it come yet?” she asked, stopping as Micky fiddled with his locker. He could never fit the bag into the locker, but managed to rid himself of some of the items inside.

“It’s arriving tomorrow,” Micky replied. He briefly smiled. “We seem to have run into a bit of a lucky streak so far, Bridget. Your tastes were very hard to accommodate.”

“They aren’t my tastes,” Bridget shot back, annoyed. “He is the most picky guy, Mick, that I have ever met. It had to be black. It had to be fast. Considering his current predicament and species, I would have thought he would have leaped for anything with four wheels and an engine.”

“Artificial intelligence or not, his personality cannot be confined to just that of a bodiless voice,” Micky replied calmly. He shut his locker and heaved the bag to his shoulders again. It was still a massive load and Bridget was glad she wasn’t the one carrying it. “How is the cord managing, by the way? I don’t need to make another replacement this month, do I?”

“No, he could make it another week. All of yours are much better than any of my attempts,” Bridget replied, looking sheepish. “I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for the first few years.”

“You were eleven. How were you supposed to know how to correctly hotwire a super advanced computer to an ordinary electrical cord?”

“Still. I think I electrocuted him like twenty times since then.”

Micky stopped and smiled at her again, a rare humorous glint to his hazel eyes. “But the fact you did your best to keep him alive nevertheless stands out much more clearly,” he said.

Mulling over his words, Bridget frowned. He did make sense. She understood very little about Karr’s general programming and make-up due to his anti-social behavior, but she did know he only cared about one thing: himself. He had made it clear early on that he distrusted her actions, but Bridget knew he also desperately needed her. His lack of trust ebbed away as the years went on and somewhere along those lines, Bridget could only presume he felt a little gratitude.

Hopefully.

They stopped at her locker next. Micky leaned against the blank wall next to her, staring out into empty space. That was completely normal for him.

“How is he handling the prospect of receiving a body?” Micky abruptly asked.

Bridget, surprised at the sudden conversation, looked up. “I don’t know. I don’t think he knows how far we’ve been getting with the whole thing.”

“What about psychologically?”

“He would love to finally move,” Bridget snorted, rolling her eyes. “To get away from his ‘domestic prison,’ as he calls it. I bet he would dance with glee if he could get legs.”

Micky frowned quietly for a moment. “Do you think he will leave?” he asked.

Bridget stopped, the book she had picked up motionless in her hand. She shrugged. She didn’t know and probably never would until it happened. Karr and his motives were impossible to figure out.

“Would you miss him?” Micky asked, his voice growing quieter.

“I…” Bridget began, unprepared for this sort of question. She stood up and closed her locker, her books in her arms. “I dunno,” she finally said, honestly unsure. “It’d be really weird not to have him around.”

“Would he stay if you asked?”

To that question, Bridget grinned sarcastically. “You’re joking, right?” she asked. She laughed wickedly and turned as they began to walk down the hallway. “I don’t know anything more about artificial intelligence than I do mechanics, Micky, but I know one thing for sure: ask Karr to do one thing, he does the complete opposite.”

Micky only smiled briefly, understanding. That was another this Bridget was thankful about Micky. He never pushed farther than she was comfortable with answering. He may not have been observant about some things, but he knew a whole lot more about the workings of people than Bridget dared to imagine.

“So, we have a date tomorrow afternoon?” Bridget ventured as they approached their homeroom door.

“Three thirty, garage,” Micky replied.

Bridget grinned. “Can’t wait.”

& & &

For all of the time he had been in this spacious country he had learned to call home, Devon Miles had never learned to appreciate the crassness of the general American. Most of his associates were fine people, of course, and quite pleasant to be around. Then there were people like Michael Knight. Those were the ones who really put the culture in perspective.

“He says to call back later,” Dr. Bonnie Barstow said over the phone. She sounded sarcastic. “He and Kitt need more relaxation before they can handle a phone call with their boss.”

Devon sighed, knowing full well how stubborn Michael could be. “I see,” he said, leaning back into his chair, which creaked in protest. “He certainly knows how to milk vacation benefits for all they are worth, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Bonnie laughed. “Kitt sends his regards, though.”

“He is the polite one,” murmured Devon, shaking his head. “Ah, well. They deserve the time off. This can wait.”

“This is still about a review, though, right?” Bonnie asked.

“Oh, yes. The Board is insisting on a biannual status report on Knight Interprises Two Thousand now.”

Bonnie made an agreeing noise. “Kitt’s usually really good with me poking around in him, but I always feel invasive,” she said. Devon could almost hear her shrug.“Michael hates these reports though. He says its like they’re trying to break Kitt down into money value. Frankly, I have to agree with him on that.”

“They being the Foundation committee,” Devon began, unable to hide a smile. “Are looking out for the best interest of Kitt as well as Michael. Although some fools may argue his sentience, I for one believe Kitt is a fine fellow.”

Bonnie laughed again. “What would we all do without you, Devon?” she asked, her voice light again. “I’ll call Michael again tomorrow. Maybe he won’t be so wrapped up in his relaxation then.”

“That would be ideal, Bonnie. Many thanks.”

“No problem. Bye bye.”

“Good bye, dear,” Devon said.

The other end of the line hung up and he sat there, staring at the phone. His face was lined with new weary. Looking up at the ceiling, he shook his head.

“Your creations certainly are living up to their expectations, Wilton,” he said quietly. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes as though exhausted. “I can only hope that I can say the same that the company.”

“What about the company?”

Devon sat up so quickly, his chair nearly buckled. At the front door of his office, which he had unfortunately forgotten to lock, stood a man in his mid-forties. This man was tall and lean, but had a waxy complexion. His eyes were dark and beady, as though seeing through everything they laid sight on. He was an uncomely character—someone who sucked the life out of everything they touched.

“Mr. Lanski,” Devon said, his voice dropping from his usual cheerful tone to cool and reserved.

“Please, Devon,” Lanski exclaimed, smiling. The gesture was odd and did not seem to fit his face. It was unsettling wrong. “Call me Dennis.”

“Ah, but as head of the board of directors of Knight Industries, you deserve the respect,” Devon countered, smiling back. He stood stiffly, but kept his polite face on. “What brings you to the Foundation today? I thought you were going to wait until Mr. Knight and Kitt returned.”

“I just wanted to get a nice glimpse of the estate,” was the falsely pleasant response. Lanski paused. “So, Mr. Knight is not here with the Knights Two Industries Thousand, then?” he asked calmly.

“No. They’re on vacation.” Devon smiled. “And are not to be disturbed, if you don’t mind me saying. Michael is very protective of his days off.”

“I see,” Lanski murmured. He turned and walked around the decoratively furnished room, as if interested in the wall tiles. “This used to be the office of my uncle, did it not?”

Devon cleared his throated, uneasy, and nodded. “Yes. Wilton spent many a great hour thinking in here. Genius of a man. He’s done wonders for the world as we know it.”

“His neglect of the company itself certainly has not lent itself to be useful,” Lanski countered. He smirked knowingly. “If he had put as much effort into the company as he did with this pet project, who knows what the earnings would have been by now?”

“Wilton was not about making money, Dennis,” Devon replied, his voice strict. His eyes were hard. “And Kitt is a masterpiece thanks to Wilton Knight. No one could have done better.”

“Of course!” cried Lanski, smiling indifferently. He held up his hands in mock defeat. “You are completely right, my friend. I just have to make sure that I keep the Industries alive. What would ever happen to FLAG if Knight Industries ceased to exist?”

Swallowing mechanically, Devon clenched his jaw. “God only knows,” he offered coldly.

“And that is exactly why I need to see the Knights Two Industries Thousand soon,” Lanski continued, seemingly ignorant to Devon’s hostility. “That inspection is of a very high priority and you should make it so for yourself as well.”

“I understand,” Devon replied. He forced himself to make a small smile. “I’ll call Michael as soon as he’s available and tell him to head back immediately.”

Lanski eyed him directly, the younger man’s eyes just as beady as before. “That would be very much appreciated, Devon.”

The small talk was over and Lanski bid his good byes quickly, his warning done with. When the door shut and he was sure he was alone, Devon sat down in his chair, face drawn tight with worry, exhaustion and uncertainty of the future.

& & &

Karr could not help but ask “why?” Why was it that he was there, in the hands of a human child? A child who tripped over her own feet? A child who’s aggravating aim for dominance often chaffed with his own? Why did he put up with her presence when she grated his patience so consistently?

Some questions had no answers, unfortunately.

He would not reply to her greeting when three o’clock rolled around every afternoon when she came home from school. Bridget would always say “hello,” “good-bye” and other sorts of greeting. Karr rarely said anything back. Such exchanges were pointless and a waste of energy. The child never seemed to mind, however, and would continue to greet him the next time. She seemed to find it amusing. Karr learned to ignore her.

However, as much as he ignored her, he did notice that she said it. That’s why when that particular afternoon came around, Karr noticed something was off.

The bedroom door shut neatly just as the bedside clock read five after three. Karr noticed first of all that she was five minutes later than usual. It wasn’t as if the bus she rode actually was punctual, he added sarcastically. Human comprehension of keeping time was severely poor. He almost pitied them for this and that was the reason he agreed to wake Bridget up every morning exactly at seven. Part of him secretly wished to somehow teach the blasted child how to manage time appropriately, but it was a failed experiment from the start.

Bridget had come in quiet and remained quiet as she deposited her school bag next to her desk. She untied the band keeping her long hair in a ponytail, fixed up the slightly windblown mess and tied it up again. Karr waited for what he knew was coming, the annoyingly familiar “Hey, Karr!” or “I’m back!” that Bridget seemed to think was necessary to state. He already knew she was back when she approached the front walk; there wasn’t a need for her to state it verbally. She did anyway and Karr finally gave in to the tradition some years ago.

Several minutes passed in silence. Bridget had removed her sneakers and shoved them to the side. She flopped back onto her bed with a sigh, physically tired from whatever she had done that day.

Nothing was said.

For some reason, an itch of irritation tingled Karr’s processor.

Perhaps the girl was too exhausted from her day to acknowledge the AI. Then again, Karr reminded himself, something as small exhaustion wouldn’t stop someone like Bridget from greeting him. He had seen her doubled over with some kind of human illness many times before, unable to even sit up, and she still had greeted him every morning and bid him goodnight at night. Something was off.

He waited for a few more minutes. Bridget said nothing. She continued to frown up at the ceiling, as if thinking. She thought often. He never asked what she thought about. He didn’t care. Sometimes he felt curious if he saw her cringe at some unknown thought or grumbled darkly over an issue, but he never asked about what. Sometimes she would ask his opinion about something and he would give it, if he wasn’t too tired. He was tired all the time, actually, due to the lack of a stable energy source. Some days were worse than others. Bridget seemed to know this and hardly provoked him into an extensive conversation. Karr was thankful she paid attention to some things, at least.

Karr felt curiosity build up inside him as the minutes ticked away. Bridget’s silence was very irregular. As much as he hated the occasional surprises the child brought into his life, he found sitting on his dusty shelf overly boring at times. Anything out of the norm was something to investigate, to keep his mind active in the very least. He didn’t know how to approach the situation, however. He decided to take a chance.

“You are five minutes late.”

Bridget twitched, a sign she had not been expecting him to speak. Her eyes flicked up to Karr’s box-like home. “Mm,” she agreed.

She did not seem like she wanted to talk. That was equally odd, Karr noted. She never shut up, normally. This was interesting.

“I take it you failed the quiz,” he said coolly. His accusation was meant to be bait for another bickering match. They were often quick, painless and proved amusing.

“What quiz?” Bridget asked, not really paying attention.

“The mathematics quiz you took today.”

“Oh. Uh, nah, I passed,” she said, returning to staring at the ceiling.

She dropped the conversation there. Karr frowned subconsciously. Her actions were extremely unexpected. He decided not to speak up again, but watched the child suspiciously.

The next few hours passed uneventfully. Bridget eventually got up from her bed, scribbled away on some apparent homework and went down for dinner when her mother called. She said nothing. Karr’s curiosity was beginning to morph into growing apprehension. Something was wrong with the child. He didn’t care for her sake, really, but if something was affecting her, it would effect him eventually. He remembered when the child’s father left—she didn’t dust him off for weeks.

After dinner, Bridget worked on her homework some more. At nine o’clock, she put away her books, went to the bathroom, changed and turned off her light to settle into bed. It was the same thing she always did every night for the past seven years that Karr had watched her. However, something was different.

She didn’t say goodnight.

The whole thing was beginning to really annoy him.

He didn’t know what else to do. Or say for that matter. He couldn’t be sure if this was some sort of ploy Bridget was planning to use to get him to finally greet her first. He would never. It held no purpose. It was her job to do it, not his, anyway. Then again, the whole this disturbed him. The child could never put on a façade for this long without cracking. This was real silence.

“Are you slipping into another depression?” he asked neutrally. He did not care that his voice was cold and shattered the silence in such a cruel manner. He did speak in a low tone; he did not need Bridget’s mother bursting in again, suspecting her daughter had a visitor.

Bridget’s still form twitched again. “Huh?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

Karr bit back the sneering tone he wanted to speak in. “Your regular evening pattern has been altered,” he stated.

“My what?”

“You have not spoken to me without provocation.”

Bridget turned around to face the AI, even though she could not see in the dark. “I haven’t spoken to you?” she echoed, surprised. She laughed softly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Didn’t realize? repeated Karr to himself. He would have scowled darkly if he had a face. The child was sometimes thoughtless to the point of aggravation.

“I’ve been…thinking,” Bridget added.

“Thinking does not normally cause one to change from their normal ritual actions,” Karr said dryly.

“I’ve been thinking a bit abnormally,” Bridget admitted, smiling in the darkness.

Obviously. Karr waited, expecting a continuous. The child would normally take his silence as a hint to explain or describe her thoughts. Most of the time they were frivolous things, like boys or school.

Bridget did not explain. Karr waited for several minutes. His annoyance rose again. He wanted to know.

When Bridget flopped over on her back again, Karr assumed that was the end of it. He was tempted to provoke her again, but to his mild relief, he did not have to.

“Do you still want a body, Karr?”

Karr hesitated. The question was unexpected. And personal. He did not like either kind of question. He growled lowly.

“Why?”

Bridget shrugged in her position on the bed. “Just wondering,” she replied calmly.

Silence.

“Yes, of course I want my body back,” Karr snapped, slightly wary of his own self-exposure. Why was he telling her this? “I am sick of staring at these four walls and sick of acting like some kind of lowly alarm clock for a seventeen year old human who can’t even walk in a straight line.” He hoped that summed up his feelings on the matter, so that she would drop it.

The child seemed amused by his answer. She sighed, as if tired. “I figured as much,” she replied.

“Then why did you bother to ask me?” Karr demanded hotly.

“I just…” Bridget stopped. She laughed. Karr had a feeling the laugh was directed at herself. “I just wanted to know.”

The sincerity in her voice made Karr growl in annoyance. The girl was frustrating as a youth but she was even worse as an adolescent.

“The next time you decide to be irrational, do not include me,” he threatened. He did not know why he even bothered to communicate with the girl anyway. “Your baseless questions and theories are not worth the energy to investigate.”

As she had for the past seven years, Bridget only grinned and took his bitterness in stride. “Okay. Sorry for bugging you,” she said calmly. She turned over, her back to the shelf, and grew still.

Karr, although somewhat content that Bridget was just being strange and not affected by a real problem, angrily pulled away his mind from the room. He was sick of her, just as he was sick of those four blue walls. They were nothing but a prison. There was no point in interacting with them.

However, as another minute passed and silence fell again, Karr realized that he was still not completely appeased. There was still something about the whole thing that did not sit right at all. He cautiously drew back to the room, scanning. Bridget’s internal nervous system was completely normal, but Karr stayed focused on the still human form.

Then…

“G’night, Karr.”

It was only a mumble, said in a half-asleep condition already. Yet, to hear it made Karr’s processor perk up, despite the poor source of electricity he was allowed.

He hated this room and he hated the overtly human child who gave him shelter.

But he loved keeping to a pattern.