A/N: I decided it was time to try a serious iCarly story for a change. For those following "Hollywood Argonauts," fear not; I'm not abandoning it. I just find that it helps my creative juices to have two stories going at once, so that when I get stuck on one I can switch to the other.

Disclaimer: needless to say, I don't own iCarly.

Prologue

July 15, 2012

Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency

Nanotechnology Research Facility

San Diego, California

Dr. Marcus Meacham ran one last equipment check. Tank: Watertight and secure. Probe: On-line and reporting all information. Nanomachines: Dormant and awaiting activation. Even though he trusted his youthful assistant thoroughly, he would never have let anyone else take over this task. What happened today might well be the crowning achievement of a thirty-five year scientific career; and, more importantly still, it might revolutionize the world, improving the standard of living for all humanity.

Finally satisfied, he tapped a control on his iPad to begin the process. The nanomachines were almost infinitesimally tiny, yet their effects could be seen immediately: the water in the tank began to churn and foam, small eddies appearing throughout its volume.

There was nothing to do now but wait. He turned to his assistant, who sat at a screen monitoring the data that was flooding in. "How do things look so far, Mr. Benson?"

"Everything's looking good, Dr. Meacham; salt content is dropping steadily." The boy smiled. If anything, he was probably more excited than his boss, and Dr. Meacham didn't blame him one bit. It was a huge honor for someone only just graduated from high school to serve as an intern on a project of this magnitude; Meacham had selected him personally from over fifteen thousand applicants to DARPA's summer internship program. If anyone asked, the selection criteria were the boy's raw scientific aptitude and his uncanny skill with computers; but truth be told, Meacham had been unable to resist hiring a youth who reminded him so much of himself at that age.

The water was now still, the process presumably complete. A puzzled look crossed the boy's face; as Meacham watched, it shifted to irritation, then alarm. "What's the matter?" he asked.

The boy shook his head. "I don't understand this, Dr. Meacham. I need to check this out the old-fashioned way." Opening a sliding compartment in the top of the tank, he inserted a strip of litmus paper. A moment later, he withdrew it and shook it gently.

It was bright red.

"What on earth?" the scientist said.

The boy repeated the test with shaking hands. The results were identical. "This…this makes no sense. All the salt has been eliminated, but somehow the nanomachines have lowered the water's pH to 1.9." He looked up, and Meacham thought he had never seen so unnerved an expression. "It's turned into acid, Doctor."

"My God," Meacham whispered. He couldn't begin to fathom where he had gone awry. The microscopic self-replicating machines had been engineered with painstaking care to desalinate sea water, rendering it drinkable. Every test so far had gone off without a hitch; the only task that remained was to program the nanomachines to terminate after a fixed number of replications, so that they didn't reproduce infinitely and run amok. How could this have happened?

With great difficulty, he collected himself. He wanted to scream in frustration, but it would only serve to distress his poor assistant further. Keeping his voice perfectly steady, he said, "Well, such things do happen. We'll just have to scrap this batch and analyze the data further before we try again."

"Yes, of course, Doctor," murmured the boy. He reached over and flicked a switch. The contents of the tank drained into the ultra-high-temperature furnace beneath it, which would evaporate the liquid and destroy the nanomachines utterly.

"Setting furnace to 400°C," Benson remarked, and turned a dial.

Nothing happened.

"Crud," he muttered. Fetching a screwdriver, he removed the front panel to examine the inner workings of the device.

Meacham impatiently turned away. What else could go wrong today?

"DOCTOR!" Benson screamed.

The scientist whirled. Acid was spilling out of the furnace onto the floor.

"What the hell happened?"

"It melted the plastic seals! It's…oh, God, I can't stop it! Everything's leaking!" The boy leapt backward as the tips of his shoes began to sizzle.

Meacham grabbed a wet vacuum. "Hurry, boy! We have to stop the flow before it reaches…"

Too late.

"…the drain."

The acidic fluid, and the nanomachines with it, ran into the chemical drain in the center of the laboratory floor. Its next stop would be the sewer system, and then…

The elderly scientist sank into a chair. He had been sure, so very sure, that this day would prove the salvation of humanity. Instead, he might well have doomed it to destruction.

Freddie Benson stepped around the acid-scarred region of the floor and approached his boss, tears in his eyes. "So…what happens now?"

"Now, Mr. Benson? Now…may God help us all."