He was walking through a carnival that had long since died and been left to rot.

"Where are you?" he whispered.

"Here!"

"I can't see you!"

" Rabbit… Rabbit… Rabbit…"

"She said my name, Pappy! Pappy?"

But no one answered. He rounded a crumbling wall and saw her. She smiled. He ran toward her but quickly stopped. Her arm was gone… her wings cracked, her antennae broken. One eye dangled in pieces from her face.

"Honeybee!" he cried.

"Why didn't you find me, Rabbit? Why? I waited…"

"I didn't know! I'm here now…"

She fell to pieces before his eyes.

It was almost dawn. A tall robotic man was wiping his chassis carefully with a soft cloth, which came away coated in flesh-colored make-up. He made sure every speck of makeup was gone and tossed the cloth down the laundry chute. No one had noticed the towels covered in flesh-colored makeup so far, so it seemed likely they never would. He slipped into the closet where he usually slept, remembering this time to remove the flower from his buttonhole. Fortunately, being an automaton, he didn't need much sleep. If he was lucky, his brothers would power on late, or find things to do other than disturb his rest.

A scream louder than any human voice split the air. The startled robot almost broke off the closet door in his haste to investigate. He knew the voice.

He ran for his brother's room, snatching up a spray bottle he kept around in case of "brother problems."

"Rabbit!"

Rabbit realized he was screaming. The Spine was squirting him with water.

"Stop it!" he yelled. His room was full of people.

"He's come out of it, Peter," said The Spine.

"Yeah…" said Peter Walter II, eyebrow raised.

"Oh, my tender teenaged ears!" cried his son, Peter Walter IV.

"You'll be okay, Pete. Thank goodness he's stopped, anyway. The windows were starting to shiver. What happened, Rabbit?"

"I… think I had a b-b-bad dream…"

"Bad dream, huh? Those happen..."

"But I d-d-d-don't sleep, Pete Two."

"You're a rare bird, Rabbit… you and your brothers do things no machine should be able to do. Why not dreams? Besides, The Spine here sometimes comes out of stasis with oil running down his face."

"Those are just leaks from leaning forward for too long," muttered The Spine uncomfortably.

"Of course they are, Spine," said Four, under his breath. "Just play along, alright?"

"Oh, right," he murmured. To Rabbit, he added proudly, "He's right. I cry like a little baby."

"Nicely done," said Four, grinning.

"But…" Rabbit began, "I've been having dreams every time I g-go into stasis."

"Well, congratulations! You're practically human," Four crowed.

Rabbit looked at him in disgust.

"Sorry."

"It's the same d-d-d-dream, almost every time, Pete Two."

That made a difference. Two frowned. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few d-d-days now…"

"When exactly?"

"I-I had the first one af-after we came in from Balboa Park. On Tuesday…"

"Were they just as bad as this one? Only we haven't had any screaming episodes until now."

Rabbit said faintly, "No… this one was w-w-worse."

"Well, that doesn't seem right," said Two, a little too cheerfully. "To the lab!"

Rabbit held his hands up defensively. "I'm fine. Just a l-l-l-little daydream…"

"Rabbit…" said The Spine warningly.

Under implied threat of spray bottle, Rabbit trundled after Two, sulking.

In the lab, Two said, "Alright, up on the slab, tin man."

"Copper!" Rabbit trudged to the table and clambered up.

"Temper, temper. That must have been a pretty bad dream. Want to tell me about it?"

The tools clanked softly as Two checked for loose connections. Rabbit's chest began to make little chuffing sounds. Two paused, concerned, and opened Rabbit's chest cavity to examine the workings there. Everything was fine, except that his bellows had begun to pump in fitful little puffs. Understanding dawned and Two nonchalantly wiped Rabbit's face with a cloth, removing the dribbles of oil leaking from his eyes. He was pleased, actually. When the robot was really upset, sometimes he shut down completely instead of crying.

"No," Rabbit murmured thickly, in answer to Two's question. He turned his head away. "I don't think so."

"That's okay, Rabbit. Maybe later."

The next night, Rabbit stood in his room, fighting off the urge to go into stasis. The others had long since gone to bed… with the possible exception of The Spine.

Rabbit was weary; he didn't need to sleep but he did need to rest, and he hadn't since Peter had finished his examination and declared him to be fully operational. That meant that whatever it was hadn't been fixed. He didn't want to have the dream again.

And yet he did want to… very much.

Maybe he could change it this time… humans could do that in their dreams, couldn't they? He really wasn't sure. But at least, a robot should be able to do it. And besides… she would be there. Broken or otherwise, it was her, her voice. They all thought he didn't think about her. The Spine, in particular, had always shown sympathy but never really understood. Rabbit had learned to exist with it all, to carry on, but he had not forgotten. And this was all he had now…

"Honeybee…" he whispered, and let go.

His body slumped with a whirr of gears, slowing to a halt. Excess steam hissed into the stillness of the night as stasis took hold.

"Rabbit… Rabbit… Rabbit…"

"I'm coming…"

The Walter twins were watching a cleaning crew sweep up glass. The glazier's truck sat waiting in the driveway.

"This can't go on much longer, Three. It's only been two days since that first scream and look at the place! I can't figure out how to stop it..."

"What, Rabbit being Rabbit? I'm sorry, Two, but he does a lot of damage, we all know that."

"But a robot having nightmares? And I think they're getting worse."

"Well, I think it's encouraging. Maybe he's evolving. It could be a good thing."

Two shook his head. "That theory has already come and gone. You haven't been here the last few days. This isn't evolution, it's the Big Bang."

"He still won't tell you what he's dreaming?"

"He's always too upset."

"Can you adjust his volume?"

"He needs it for performances… Besides, he's not a transistor radio. It's difficult."

"Well, put him on full shut-down at night."

"Again, not so easy. Sooner or later, we have to switch him back on. Can you imagine if he does that in the middle of a concert?"

Colonel Peter Walter III imagined it, and snorted.

"No, not funny, Three! Not funny!"

"Not even a little?" His eyes rested on the glazier's truck. "Well, anyway, it was a shame about the windows."

"He slipped into stasis in the kitchen, too, yesterday. I was there, you know, when the screaming started. One minute he's telling me about the kittens he and Jon found under the shed, when he goes quiet all of a sudden. Before I can turn around, there's not a drinking glass left in the house. I may have permanent hearing damage."

"So fix him. You know more about it. I'm not around him as much."

Two sighed sharply. "That's easy to say, Colonel, but he's running perfectly!"

"Well…"

"Right, as perfectly as he ever runs. He's what… fifty-four now?"

"Maybe he's getting senile."

"We're fifty-three. Are we getting senile? Besides… he was always senile!"

"You're thinking of Jon." Three stepped aside for a maid carrying a dustpan. "So what are you going to do?"

"Put in screens instead?"

Three chuckled. "That's not a bad idea. We probably should have done it years ago. Well… for now, shut him down until you find the problem. If not for him, then for yourself. And get your ears checked, or… why don't you at least go out for a while? I can stay here tonight. Take Mary and Four out to a picture or something. I'll hold down the fort."

Three settled in to the library. His brother had asked him to work on Rabbit while The Spine got Jon settled, but it had been a long time since he'd worked on his father's creations, and he knew full well that Two had tried everything he could possibly think of already. His brother would come back from his relaxing evening out with his wife and youngest boy, ready with new ideas, probably flip a little switch and fix Rabbit right up.

Soothing tones poured from the record player. Sinatra always made him sleepy.

He heard the mingled humming and hissing of an automaton entering the library. "I'm going to my room to shut down for the night, Colonel."

Three looked up. "We grew up together, Spine. You can just call me Pete Three, like Rabbit does."

The Spine's head tipped slightly to one side. "Like Rabbit does…"

Three laughed. "You're right… what was I thinking? Forgot who I was talking to. Jon settled, then?"

"He's worried about Rabbit again. So I just shut him off."

"Did you tell him you were doing it first?"

The Spine tipped his head to the other side, puzzled. "Should I have?"

"Never mind. So how are you doing?"

Stare. Hum. Hiss. "How am I doing?"

"Yes, you. Your brother is having another breakdown, apparently. Your other brother is a sloppy mess over it. How are you? Are you worried?"

"I'm fine, Colonel."

Three sighed. He could never tell if The Spine was just that in control of his emotions, or if he really didn't have that many. He used to seem almost human, but this visit… Three could have sworn The Spine was cutting him short. "Well, alright. You're fine. Goodnight, Spine. Sweet dre… um… well, whatever you have."

"Sleep well, Colonel."

Heavy steps retreated down the hall. The record changed songs.

"It's quarter to three… there's no one in the place, except you and meee…"

"Feels about that late…" murmured Three. His eyes slid shut.

The Spine went straight to his room tonight, fed up and ready for some peace. No stasis tonight. Just silence. Why did everyone have to make such a fuss over a few nightmares, anyway? Did he complain about his? Rabbit had always had them, too. They both knew it.

He knew he should feel some pity, but he was getting sick of it all. They had been fussing over Rabbit ever since 1933, the way a family tends to fuss over a sickly child, all because he surprised everyone by falling in love and nearly getting himself killed in the process.

The Spine sighed. Only Rabbit. And he had been just as concerned himself… in the beginning. But enough was enough.

He hung up his hat, locked himself in the closet, and powered down.

In the lab, Rabbit's eyes popped open.

He knew, now. The last few times, he had thought he could almost tell. Two had asked him to shut down instead of going into stasis, but he couldn't stop… he was so close. And this time there had been details. He was sure he could find it on a map.

He wasn't supposed to go out alone. He wasn't even supposed to be awake, but he didn't stop to wonder how he had come to consciousness from a full shut-down, or how he could have been dreaming. It didn't matter.

He had to see for himself, to be sure. Just to be sure. She wouldn't be there, of course. It was just a dream, right? Rabbit, Jon, and The Spine had them all the time about the wars. They couldn't tell you anything you didn't already know.

He slipped upstairs, creeping around the best he could and peeking into rooms. Jon was shut down beside his toys. The Spine was locked inside his closet even though Rabbit had been switched off. Pete Three had dozed off listening to Ol' Blue Eyes. He heard no other movement in the manor.

He found the big Road Map of the Americas and flipped through it, taking a good look at the states between California and Louisiana. He slipped it back into its place and gathered what he thought he might need for the journey… a couple of old Boy Scout canteens, his small oil can, a wad of small bills that had been gathering dust in his room. He didn't spend much, but they still gave it to him, like his brothers… like a child. He felt a little jab of guilt as he slipped into The Spine's long overcoat and stuffed the money into its pocket. After a moment's hesitation, he returned to his brother's room and scooped up his fedora as well.

In the entrance hall, he disconnected his goggles, removed his hat, and stuffed them together into the hall chest. Settling the purloined fedora uneasily into place, Rabbit crept out the front door into the darkness.