"Oh..." Newton's gaze fled down to the pivot wheel behind Number Five's treads as if it was in need of immediate attention. "Hi, Howard."

"Dr. Marner, you have come all the long way to this city to hear our little talk?" Ben choked out an unconvincing laugh. "You honor us, sir."

"Well, I wouldn't call making the international news a little thing. I would have expected to be organizing a presentation of our robot myself, as I believe was stated in our contract."

"We'll save you a seat!" Newton took a firm hold of Stephanie's arm, urging her through the doors. He could tell by her face that she was about to snap. He gave Number Five what he hoped was a reassuring look. "Got to get inside. I—I'm sure they're waiting for you."

They were waiting, alright. The speed with which the staff whisked them away from the entrance and up onto a platform was both a blessing and a curse. Howard was lost in the rush, safely buried in the audience, but there was no chance to catch a breath—no chance to plan a speedy exit. Most frightening of all, at least as far as Newton was concerned, was that there was no time for him to persuade anyone that he really, really did not belong on that platform in front of all those people.

The crowd grew before his terrified eyes. Children began to file in, sitting cross-legged on pieces of carpet in front of the chairs which should have made up the first row. It was like they were closing in on him, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. "If they make me say anything," he muttered, "I'm gonna be sick."

Stephanie was standing to his right, and she reached over to rub his back, tracing slow, soothing circles along his shirt.

"Test. Test." One of the women with the museum raised her arms to the audience, speaking into a microphone. The room began to quiet down. When it was almost silent, she continued, "Okay, I think we're ready to begin." She passed the microphone up to another woman waiting on the platform.

"We at NYSCI are so excited to welcome Mr. Johnny Five and his friends here to speak with us today. I think any of us who have picked up a magazine, turned on the television, or been lucky enough to pass him on the street can agree that he is a truly remarkable invention and individual. Yesterday, he made history in the scientific community, and the world, by becoming the first ever robotic citizen."

The audience broke into applause. Newton focused on a poster mounted above their heads on the back wall.

"And so, without further ado, I'll hand you over to the incredible Mr. Five!"

The clapping grew more enthusiastic. The microphone was passed to Number Five, and the sight of it clutched in his mechanical hands was so ridiculous, Newton struggled not to burst out laughing. It seemed like a better antidote to nerves than picturing the entire crowd in their underwear, but the image, unfortunately, did not last long enough to cure him completely. Number Five shook his head and handed the mic over to Ben. He didn't need its help to be heard in the back.

"Buenos dias! God dag! Dorood!" Number Five paused. When there was no response, he added, "Hi, everybody!"

Most everyone said hello back, but not all in the same way or at the same time. The result was a distorted answer that sounded like it stemmed from an angry mob. Newton wiped his hands on his pant legs and tried to convince himself the army was not disguised somewhere in the throng sharpening pitchforks.

"Wow, look at you all. Going to need a bigger set of eyes to see this many humans." His eyes extended out, he played back a boing sound effect from a cartoon to accent the change, and one of the little girls in the front jumped. "The better to see you with, my dear!"

She peered at the kids around her, joining in when they laughed.

"Do you have any questions for me? Anything you are wondering, want to explore, need to get off your chest?"

She tugged at the purple scrunchy in her hair and shook her head.

A boy's hand shot up. "I do! Um... how old are you?"

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Seven! You have been alive much longer than me." Number Five turned to the side and raised his volume a bit. "I have been alive for two years, eight months, seventeen days, four hours, twenty minutes, and three seconds."

The kids continued to ask questions. They wanted to know everything from how much Number Five weighed to if he could run faster than a race car. There was nothing like watching their eyes widen and mouths pop open in awe. Their parents were grinning, experiencing the same sense of wonder as their children. A sensation of warmth spread through Newton's chest. The S.A.I.N.T. robots started as an idea to help married couples who were struggling, to bring people together, and this was the closest he'd ever gotten to seeing his dream realized.

Eventually the museum staff set up another microphone to be passed among the adults in the chairs. The conversation grew more serious.

"When did you realize you were more than just a machine?"

"What does life mean to you?"

"How were you built?"

Number Five introduced Ben, Stephanie, and Newton when they began to ask things he thought they could answer better, though Newton was grateful to pass the mic from Ben to Stephanie without having to do any talking himself. Ben handled the inquiries into the robot's initial construction while carefully skirting around any specific details about his original purpose or the company responsible for his assembly. Stephanie answered things having to do with Number Five's personality—what it was like to interact with him, how he learned, and how she taught him about life. Her responses were brief and evasive. They were discussing what was supposed to be secret, but Number Five's candidness and obvious enjoyment of the crowd seemed to prod her into being more open.

Newton was convinced Howard's sudden appearance hadn't phased Number Five at all, and then someone asked him how it felt to be recognized as an American citizen.

"Feels... like freedom." He turned from the person who asked the question to stare intently at something on the other side of the room. "Can prove am not property. Can seek legal protection if in danger. I own me."

Newton followed his gaze right to Howard's seat. His old boss was sitting at the end of the third row, his hands clenched on a briefcase he kept rigidly suspended in front of his knees. There was a skeptical lift to his brow as he stared back at Number Five, an unspoken challenge. The blood drained from Newton's face.

Catching Newton's eyes on him, Howard suddenly raised his hand. The microphone was passed over to him.

"If I can just ask something of Dr. Crosby..."

Ben glanced fearfully at Newton. He fiddled with the mic, ready to pretend there was a technical issue if need be.

Newton shook his head, trying to ignore how it made the room spin. He held his hand out for the mic, and his fingers were shaking. When he took it in his grasp, the cord seemed like a black snake coiling around his feet. "Go ahead."

"What do you think it was about this particular robot that allowed it to come alive?"

"That's... um..." His mouth started to water. He swallowed. It only made the nausea worse. "That's tough to say, really."

"Do you think it could happen again?"

His stomach clenched. He shoved the mic into Stephanie's hand and bolted off the platform, searching desperately for the bathrooms. It was a short sprint. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it in time. He didn't stop until he was hunched over and kneeling, a pathetic, heaving mess with his head in the toilet.

The convulsions sent his head throbbing. When it was all over, he leaned his temple against the cool porcelain, too spent to be bothered by the potential masses of bacteria in close proximity to his face. He sucked in lungfuls of air. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke, but at least it was cool. Behind closed eyes, his heartbeat returned to normal and his headache eased.

It was good to be alone.

At length, he got to this feet and left the stall. The sinks looked clean enough, runny pink soap trickling off the counter notwithstanding. He washed his hands in warm water and splashed some cold into his eyes. They looked slightly bloodshot in the mirror mounted on the wall in front of him. In fact, his entire reflection seemed haggard, lost somehow.

There was a tap on the restroom door.

Ben poked his head in. "Newton?" Seeing him at the sink, he came the rest of the way inside. "Have you finished up-chucking your breakfast?"

"Yeah." He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, tearing it loose with excessive force. "Sorry about that."

"There is no need for apologies. Dr. Marner would be making me vomit faster than he can say 'stat.'"

He laughed. "I thought we'd be lucky enough to never hear that word again." His gaze dropped to the crinkled towel, expression sobering. "Did he ask anything else?"

"No. Once you are leaving the stage, the people in charge concluded the conversation. I am thinking they did not want to stoke the fire of a controversy."

"Good. That's good, I guess. I hate to say I told you so, Ben, but I told you they would come for him. I don't get why you couldn't just keep him a secret like we asked."

"You are blaming me, is that it?" Ben huffed, spreading his hands out in front of him. "I am not understanding what you wanted for me to do. I could not hold Number Johnny Five indoors as prisoner-"

"Hold on a second. No one said anything about imprisoning him."

"And that is a fortunate thing because the man who is trying to do that would be in a difficult pickle, most certainly! After he has chased down the thieves, the press came down like flies. There was no way to make them forget a man-sized, crime-fighting robot."

Newton sighed. He had a point.

"I know Fred is a business greedy-type person, but perhaps all of the publicity has made Number Johnny Five safer, hmm?" Ben's voice got quiet, softer. "The world will miss him now if he is gone."

Newton nodded, but it was a reluctant gesture. "I hope you're right." He turned away and started for the door. "Come on. Let's see if we can make it out of here without any trouble."

He had barely set foot outside of the bathroom when he heard a child's piercing shriek. He lunged around the corner, fearing the worst for reasons he couldn't seem to articulate even in his thoughts. It wasn't like he considered Howard capable of hurting an innocent kid, but—but when did Howard ever work alone?

The kid's screams dissolved into laughter. He saw two young boys playing with giant blue building blocks, constructing a fort around themselves. One the boys had evidently just fallen out. Their father stood nearby, scolding him for being so loud.

"Is everything okay?" Newton still had to ask.

The boy got up and picked up a cylindrical block. He raised his arm with the clear intention of throwing it at his dad.

"Don't you dare, Anthony! If you throw that block, we're going home right now. Understand?"

Anthony dropped the block. "Sorry."

As he went back to playing, the father turned Newton's way. "He's fine. Thanks for your concern, bro." He shrugged. "Kids. You never know what they're going to do."

Newton spotted Number Five lingering over some plaques by the entrance on the first floor. "Tell me about it." He motioned to Ben and continued in the direction of what looked like a wall of streamers.

Coming in, the mad rush to get them on the platform and ready to speak had rendered all of the exhibits around them invisible. He couldn't even remember the long neon pink and orange strips hanging from the enormous rounded ceiling, though he knew he must have passed them. The early afternoon sun projected the shape of the surrounding windows onto the streamers—tape, he realized—and the individual strips broke up the light into diagonal fragments.

"I'm going to need a word with you."

Newton was making his way down a winding staircase, focusing on the display rather than the people around him, and the sudden comment came as a shock. He looked up to find Howard rushing up the stairs, only stopping when they were about level with each other.

Newton kept going, ignoring him.

Howard followed. "Crosby, this isn't a joke."

Newton searched for Ben, but he couldn't pick him out of the crowd. He walked faster. The rectangles of light on the exhibit seemed to move with him, dropping lower out of the corner of his eye as he strode forward.

"Damn it, stop! You owe me an explanation!"

He threw a glare over his shoulder. "I don't owe you. I'm fired, remember?"

"I heard that thing explode! I watched Skroeder's men carry off the pieces. Tell me that has got to be a different robot."

The image of Skroeder's men swarming over the supposed remains of Number Five, cheering and playing with them as if they were pieces of a junked car, was forever burned into his memory. He kept his lips sealed at first, but bitterness ate at his throat like acid and something had to escape. "Skroeder's just going to have to accept he's not the smartest war machine Nova ever created."

"Skroeder's gone."

Newton froze.

"He was more than happy to see years of hard work and research blown to smithereens. That's not what we're about, so I had to let him go."

Slowly, Newton turned to face him. He noticed for the first time how old Howard looked. His cheeks seemed hollow, and the wrinkles on his forehead were deep and in much greater quantity than when he saw him last. Two years appeared to have aged him ten. "What do you want, Howard? What are you really doing here?"

"I'm offering you your job back. You can have your old office, the same salary. It'll be like you never left."

There was a tiny pop as Newton's mouth came open. For a moment, he just stared, thinking of Stephanie and all of her foster animals—ones that often needed veterinary care and many that would never find another home. Their cabin was crying out for attention, and so was their land, and they were getting perilously close to losing everything. He shifted forward, feeling the lightness of his wallet in his back pocket, but the thoughts that made the return of a very generous and reliable salary most tempting also made it impossible to accept. He knew what Stephanie would want. Number Five too.

"No. No, thanks. I appreciate it, but Nova wants weapons. That's not what I'm about."

"Well, I can certainly understand that. I know we've had our... creative differences in the past."

"Really?" Newton shook his head. If Howard was going to make this easy, he wasn't going to object. "So, good. It's settled, then. I should be getting back."

"Wait!" Howard snapped, attracting some curious glances. He looked around at the crowded room, laughed self-consciously, and drew closer to Newton. He lowered his voice. "We don't work with that section of the military anymore. After that giant disaster? The loss of millions of dollars?" His arm jerked forward, slapping his briefcase against his leg. "They don't want anything to do with us."

Newton watched him, shifting away. "I'd say I'm sorry, but-"

"But that's okay. That's given us the opportunity to go in another direction. Do you know what's bringing in the most profit these days? Guess."

"Uh..."

He patted Newton's back. "You'll never guess! Those goofy little server bots you whipped up to carry around cocktails and canapes at our events. Everyone wants them. We've sent them out to wedding receptions, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah, wow. That's unexpected."

"The bottom line is your publicity parade with the robot is changing the way ordinary people look at them. We've done polls, spoken to families with children who own those knock-off toys, and, Crosby, you may be building yourself the market for civilian use you've always wanted. If you think Number Five is alive-"

"He is alive."

"Alright. Well, that is a major breakthrough." Howard guided Newton over to some railing and rested his briefcase against it to open it. He reached inside and handed over a small piece of paper with the name, address, and phone number of a hotel on it. "We're both scientists. I am offering you the resources and equipment to discover how we created a sentient machine. Aren't you dying to explain that?"

"I guess I am... somewhat... curious." That was a huge understatement, but Newton was eying the other documents in Howard's briefcase, and he didn't like what he saw.

"Well," Howard smiled tightly, "just think about it and give me a call tomorrow. I'm staying for the next three days. I'd like to see Number Five during that time." He snapped the briefcase closed and started to walk away.

Newton stepped after him. "If I don't cooperate, you're going to sue me, aren't you? That's why you brought the contracts?"

"I brought the contracts in the hope that you will sign them. The old ones are only there for comparison, but I can see why you're worried. With the patents we have, a lawsuit certainly wouldn't end well for you."

Newton held the slip of paper between his fingers, feeling the deep gauges left from Howard's pen. He pulled out his wallet and tucked it in the empty billfold. It sat heavy in his pocket as he rejoined his friends.

A/N: Thanks for the response last chapter, guys! The exhibit Newton notices is based off NYSCI's Scattered Light, but it doesn't appear to have been set up in the museum until 2014, so I am smudging a few details here.