“Now for secret number two,” Bridget announced once she and Micky came back from inside Micky’s house after lunch. Karr grumbled when she placed a condensation-covered soda can so close to his CPU, but his attention had been diverted successfully.

A second secret? Karr echoed mentally.

There was a second tarp covering another mass a few feet away from the Mustang on another table. Micky, after wiping his hands clean, went over and removed the covering. Karr managed to withhold this gasp of surprise, but the feeling was the same.

The table was covered with metal, some rusted, some still black, and other obviously aged from time and nature. There was an engine, still crusted with dirt. Nuts, bolts, a rear tire axle, gears, shifters, a break pedal—Karr’s inventory went on. Every single piece of broken machinery he recognized. That was because each of those pieces once was him.

“How?” Karr finally managed to say, unable to hide his disbelief.

Bridget laughed. “Remember that road trip to Disney Land I went on with Micky and his family three years ago?”

Karr remembered. She had left him on the shelf for nearly two months alone. It had been one of the most mundane experiences he had ever had since coming into her possession.

“Well, we made sure we stopped along a specific stretch of road on the way,” Bridget finished. Both she and Micky grinned.

They had collected the remains of my shell? Karr said to himself, surprised. Bridget had made no mention of this before. She really had been working since she made her promise to get him fixed seven years ago. She was going through with her promise on top of that. It was…unsettling.

“The new body is kinda beat up right now,” Micky began, tapping the dull hood of the Mustang. “But we should worry about getting you fixed up to the car first.”

“You have no knowledge of how to properly assemble any of my components,” Karr countered briskly. He went on the defensive again, quickly recovering from his momentary display of emotion.

“We know the basics,” Bridget replied, leaning forward from the stool she was seated on. “Could you guide us through the not-basics, then?”

Karr did not reply at first. He could supply them with the general instructions on how to properly attach his CPU to the structure of car. The process was delicate and dangerous. One ill move could wipe his processor. Also, there was no guarantee the parts of his previous form were still functional enough to use in this new vehicle.

“There are too many risks,” he finally stated.

“Aw, I thought you liked challenges,” Bridget said, pretending to look disappointed. She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Karr! For the last seven years you’ve been with me, can’t you spare me a little bit of confidence? I’d never purposely hurt you.”

“Purposely or not, you are too clumsy,” Karr sneered.

“And I’m not,” Micky countered. He smiled gently at the AI. “Karr, we promised you a body.”

They did. Karr would not deny that or the fact he wanted one as well.

Bridget leaned closer to him, smiling softly. “Do you remember what I told you five years ago?” she asked quietly.

Karr remembered a lot of things Bridget Smith had told him over the last seven years while he remained bodiless. She told him silly things only a child would care about. She told him deep things that they could actually hold intelligent debates over. She told him things that he bluntly ignored and tossed away. She told him things that he was sure would stay in his memory banks as long as he was activated. However, even if the number of things told were great, Karr understood which specific thing she was talking about now…

“So, you’re a robot?” the thirteen year old child had asked, staring intently at the box which held Karr. It had taken her two years for the stubborn AI to even communicate with her. “I thought robots were supposed to serve mankind, not throw insults at us.”

“I am designed to care solely for myself and no other,” he replied, monotone. He disliked the child, but he could put up with mild conversation.

“If you’re a machine, then everything you do and say is programmed, right?” Bridget asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re just a computer, then?”

Karr hissed, angered. “My basic functions may be programmed, but not my will—I am no tool. I am me!” he nearly shouted. How dare she compare him to a basic computer while she herself was inferior?

“Then that means you can learn.”

“Learn? Learn what?” he demanded, somewhat insulted. She was an obsolete human; what could she have knowledge of that he did not?

Bridget frowned. “To care for other people besides yourself.”

That made him actually laugh. “I have no reason to,” he sneered.

“You’re used to people treating you like you’re just a machine,” Bridget replied, calmly. She learned quickly to evade his baiting. “Prove to me that you’re not.”

Karr hesitated. Even though he despised her, the child’s words stilled him. “And how am I to do that?” he asked slowly.

“A little trust could do wonders,” she said, grinning ear to ear.

Although he would never admit it to her, Bridget had not been incorrect about her philosophy. When he finally trusted Micky to do the new wiring system, it worked out surprisingly well. The idea of humans actually being of some use to him was unexpected. He did not trust them openly, but concerning his general care, he could not help but give the children some credit.

“We aren’t going to force you,” Bridget added.

“I am programmed for self-preservation,” Karr repeated coolly. “It goes against my being to allow this.”

Both teenagers looked at each other, unsure. Karr would have scowled had he a mouth. There were no simulations or problem solving techniques that could easily get him through this. He did not want to trust humans, but he knew he had to; he needed to adapt or die.

“But I am no machine,” he said quietly.

Bridget’s eyes widened and Micky actually looked surprised. Then, Karr saw the usual grin worm its way back on his hostess’ face.

“By God, the man can be taught!” she crowed. She slapped her knee, grinning brightly. “Only took you five years to figure that out, buddy.”

Karr growled. Bridget made a face back at him. Rolling his eyes, Micky picked up what looked like a schematic of the car from his workbench.

“I could follow the original schematic well enough to be able to create this custom one,” he said, holding up the blueprint. “Your old engine—turbine, isn’t it?—seems to still work. I based the inner workings heavily on your previous form and plan on integrating the working remains of the old TransAm into this new body, Karr, so hopefully this will make the transition easier.”

“I will be fully surprised if you manage to do the job remotely well,” Karr replied darkly. His box-like body seemed to shudder. “My energy store is depleted. I need to hook up again.”

“Gotcha covered,” Micky said. He walked over to a milk crate on one of the metal shelves and pulled out a long, black extension cord. “It was about time for a change anyway.”

As Micky took pliers and the cord to Karr’s side, Bridget stared quizzically at the AI.

“What?” Karr finally asked, annoyed by her staring.

“I just can’t imagine you as a talking car,” she said.

Karr growled. “You seem to handle a talking box relatively well.”

“Can you move the car on your own?”

“Yes. I am self-roving, but that can be overridden by manual controls.” Karr suddenly winced. He did NOT just admit that to the child…

Bridget grinned, enjoying that bit of information. “So, I’m going to have a completely automated sexy new Mustang for a car?” she joked.

“I am not yours!” snapped Karr. He flinched inwardly as Micky tampered with his sensitive wiring before continuing. “You will be lucky if I don’t run you down!”

“So, you’ve got a turbine engine?” interrupted Micky, stopping the fight before it escalated.

Karr replied neutrally, “I was previously outfitted with the Knight Industries turbojet model with modified afterburners.”

“Wow, super-science,” murmured Bridget sarcastically.

“I bet you go real fast with one of those,” Micky said, grinning up at Karr.

“Using the boosters, I can reach from zero to seventy miles per hour in point two seconds,” Karr replied, somewhat smug.

Both teenagers stared at him with wide eyes and dropped jaws. “Whoa!”

“Damn, I am so not going to be able to put you back to your former glory,” Micky said, standing back. He frowned deeply. “Are you sure there is no one else capable of doing this?”

“…no,” Karr said. There were others, but at least he knew Micky wasn’t about to deactivate him with his back turned.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to mess you up.”

“You will not,” Karr said neutrally. The underlining threat in his voice made both boy and girl grin again.

Shaking his head, Micky stared at the AI. “And what about your transmission?”

“All transmission accessories, including the 8-speed microprocessor turbodrive with auto pilot, are currently located in or around my CPU,” Karr stated. That was one thing they did not have to worry about.

“And this whole thing you’re in now is your voice box?”

“My visual voice modulator. It is stationed in the center of the dashboard inside the vehicle. The various function buttons are located on my frame now as well.”

Bridget scratched her head. “What kind of fuel do you need?” she asked. Of course she wanted to know—she’d be the one stuck finding the substance.

Karr hesitated. “I require a hydrogen based fuel to accommodate the turbo engine thrusters.”

The girl’s face dropped. “HYDROGEN?!”

“But you can function on regular petroleum gasoline, right?” Micky quickly interjected. “Without the thrusters?”

“Yes,” Karr replied.

Bridget glared at the AI. “You had better,” she grumbled. “What kind of car runs on hydrogen based fuel?”

“The prototype of the car of the future,” Karr replied dryly.

“Shut your mouth, I was being sarcastic.”

“I have no mouth to shut—”

“THAT WAS SARCASM, TOO!”

Rolling his eyes, Micky walked back over to the pile of old TransAm parts. “Okay, engine, break system, some weird cables I have no idea what they are…technically we should be able to connect them all to your CPU, right?” he asked, looking back at the AI.

“That is correct.”

“You have to guide me,” Micky warned.

Karr growled. “I will do nothing less,” he vowed. As much as he reluctantly trusted the child, he did not put it past their luck that something would go wrong.

“Say,” Bridget began. “If you’re the ‘car of the future’, what else can you do?”

“In the past,” corrected Karr. “I had multiple functions. Auto-cruise, auto-pursuit, auto-collision avoidance, and emergency ejection seats.” Karr briefly felt smug satisfaction at the sight of Bridget’s shocked face. “The Knight Industries microprocessor, or my CPU, is equipped with vocal functions which I am currently using to communicate. I had complete audio and video in-dash surveillance capabilities, including radar, sonar and x-ray visions.”

“Damn!” whispered Bridget.

“I am sooo not going to be able to do this,” Micky moaned, dropping his head down onto the table.

Karr sighed despite himself. “Do not bother with those additional functions. I only require the basics.” He could risk the other things later—he just wanted a body. Now.

“Good,” murmured Micky.

Bridget groaned and arched her back as she stretched. “So, we gonna get this started?” she asked.

“It will take much time to do this properly,” Karr replied calmly.

“Hey, school’s winding down,” Bridget said, smiling. She patted Karr’s CPU box comfortingly. “In two months, it’ll be summer, too, so we have all of then to wrap this up.”

Karr paused. “Don’t you have soccer camp in July?” he asked tensely.

“Um. Yes.”

Bridget must have felt the AI staring at her and she fidgeted nervously.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure my mom won’t care if I don’t go,” she added, smiling weakly. “I’ll tell her I’m too old for it.”

“And then we’re all going to have to listen to her rant and rave for weeks over it.”

“Do you want a body or not, Karr?” Bridget snapped. She wagged her finger at him. “Me and Micky are going to be sacrificing a lot for your sake and we already have, so the least you can do is trust us!”

“What do you think I’m doing by allowing you to even suggest it?” Karr shot back angrily.

“Why do you always have to complain about everything?”

“Because I have to put up with idiots like you!”

Micky rolled his eyes, and knowing that it would be a long couple of months, began to assemble his tools.

& & &

“I want to know what FLAG is up to.”

The luxurious curtains that hung from the ceiling-to-floor windows blocked any and all light from entering the room. With the overhead lights out and only the luminescent glow of the exotic fish tank in the corner, the whole office was more like a tomb. The darkness did not seem to bother the two occupants of the room—one tall and thin, the other shorter and more muscular. The tall man was standing in front of the fish tank, watching the blue hippo tangs and the maroon and white striped clown fish swim. The shorter man was sitting on one of the rich chairs, legs hanging off the side of one of the arm rests improperly.

“All the time,” the tall man continued. He seemed agitated, but also arrogant. He waved his hand snobbishly. “Wherever Knight is, I want a constant feedback. I don’t trust them. Devon is a loose canon. Neither of them can be trusted.”

“The Knight Industries Two Thousand is supposed to be tough to fool,” the shorter man replied as he leaned back into his chair lazily.

The tall man shook as he chuckled. The sound seemed menacing. “Oh, but why don’t I worry about the prototype?” he prompted.

The shorter man smirked. “Because you got the finished model all lined up.”

“Exactly, Mr. Schultz. Exactly.”

Mr. Schultz only grinned. The tall man traced his bony fingers over the tank glass.

“Can I trust you to be ready when they arrive?”

“Of course, Mr. Lanski, of course.”