A First Time For Everything
A MLAATR-Inspired Fanfic
By Shvique

All Characters are created by Rob Renzetti and are property of Nickelodeon/Viacom, Inc. No copyright infringement is intended or to be inferred, nor is any profit to be implied from the following. This is merely a work of fan-fiction inspired by characters and situations referred to above, for purely entertainment purposes only, by a fan with too much imagination and too much free time…

Author's note: This story is a follow-up to my previous fanfic, "Resolution," and takes place shortly after the events detailed therein. Readers are strongly encouraged to read that story first (long though it is), before reading this one (or else very little of this story will make much sense.) In a nutshell, events have caused Sheldon's affections for Jenny to 'cool' considerably, and he no longer feels the same way about her as he once did. As to how Jenny reacts to this development, and what she intends to do about it…well…read on and find out…

As before, comments/feedback on the story are welcome, so long as you keep 'em clean and reasonably constructive. (Swear-words, insults or personally abusive comments get a quick bye-bye straight to the delete-bin…)

Chapter 1—Portents

It was a beautiful Spring day in the small town of Tremorton, USA. The sun was shining, and the skies were a clear, cerulean blue, garnished here and there with puffy white clouds. It was a pleasantly-warm day, neither too hot nor too cold, with both sunshine and cool, refreshing breezes to make the day enjoyable for all; breezes strong enough to carry dozens of kites aloft in colorful profusion.

It was Saturday, and most of the town's residents, both young and old, had turned out in great numbers to Tremorton Park, to make the most of the beautiful day. The younger children played on the swings and slides of the playground, or flew kites, while the older children, teens and many adults played baseball or pickup games of soccer, volleyball and basketball, and the senior citizens kept themselves fit and trim by practicing yoga and Tai Chi.

Three of the younger residents, two boys and a girl—the boys being brothers, and the girl, their robotic best friend—were currently engaged in a rousing game of Frisbee. The game had begun simply enough, with each of the three tossing the Frisbee easily to their companions, but as might be expected in any game involving three very-competitive young friends, each one trying their best to out-do the others, the game soon became more hectic, rambunctious and above all, competitive. Soon, each player was no longer content to merely toss the Frisbee gently, choosing instead to fling it with great force, usually aimed several feet above the heads of his companions, causing them to either leap high or run back several yards to catch it. Which, of course, only made the game even more challenging, fun and competitive for the three.

Thus it was that the older boy, Brad Carbunkle, red-haired and high-school-aged, flung the Frisbee to a point in space several feet above the head of his younger brother Tuck, who in turn, leapt high, nimbly snatching it out of the air with the aplomb of an Olympic athlete, before landing gracefully on his feet after completing the catch.

"Oooooo, great catch, Tiger!" Brad called out with a smile. He couldn't help but be impressed; he'd never expected his younger sibling to catch that one.

"Yeah, great catch, Tuck!" echoed Jenny—also known as the Earth's Global Response Unit XJ-9, or the Teenaged Robot of Tremorton—as she clapped her hands in support of her young friend.

"And the crowd goes wild!" cried Tuck. "As young Tucker Carbunkle takes the Gold Medal in the International Frisbee-Catch Competition!" He followed up with a quick little victory-dance, after which he then rebounded with a vigorous launch of the Frisbee to Jenny, aiming it skyward. "Hey Jenny! Think fast!" he cried.

In response, Jenny also leapt high, and made a nimble catch of the Frisbee, without even resorting to the use of her built-in rocket-jets, before setting down on the ground as gracefully as a leaf settling upon the grass.

And so the game continued with carefree abandon, the three friends enjoying the freedom and joy of a Saturday afternoon in the Spring, all cares, troubles and worries forgotten.

Jenny was especially glad for the opportunity to let go, to truly let off steam and simply enjoy herself again for a change. The past several weeks had been miserable for her, as she'd had to negotiate her way through some extremely difficult and challenging personal issues; issues that had soured her normally-happy disposition and nature, and had taken a toll on her personal relationships. She had become morose, moody and irritable, which even her best friend Brad had found increasingly difficult to deal with.

But in the end, she had managed to successfully resolve her difficulties, and afterwards, her overall spirits and mood improved dramatically. She was now back to her old self, her outlook both upbeat and cheerful, her energy back to its usual high level. She now enjoyed her life to the fullest again, and pursued her various interests with the utmost levels of exuberance and enthusiasm, able to once again engage in playful fun for its own sake.

The day had begun well for the three. As they often did on most Saturdays, they began by meeting at the skate-park near the shopping-mall and spending a few hours there, practicing various skate-moves, stunts and maneuvers. As always, Jenny had to make a conscious effort not to use her rocket-jets, or any of her other super-capabilities that would have given her an unfair advantage over her friends. As naturally-competitive as she was, she had nevertheless learned over time to pull back just a little bit in the use of her abilities when playing with her friends; just enough so as not to hurt their feelings by constantly besting them at everything all the time. However, she didn't hold back too much of her innate abilities, or her naturally competitive spirit—after all, she didn't want to make things too easy for her friends, either.

From the skate park, the three then headed over to Tremorton Park, where they spent the remainder of the day on games of soccer, volleyball, playing catch with a baseball, and eventually finishing off the day with the rousing game of Frisbee.

And yet, as Jenny played with her friends throughout the day, she seemed strangely…distracted, somehow; preoccupied, as though her mind wasn't entirely on the games. It became more and more noticeable to Brad as the day wore on, although he didn't say anything about it at first. But now, as the three played Frisbee, Jenny's apparent distraction became more obvious, as she repeatedly turned away from the game to look behind her, over her left and right shoulders, as though looking in the distance for something or someone.

"Hey, Jenny!" Tuck called one of the times her head was turned. "Watch out!"

"Huh?"

Jenny turned back just in time to duck and catch the Frisbee a split-second before it caught the leading edge of one of her two metallic ponytail-jets. It would normally have been an easy catch for her to make, and yet she'd nearly missed it. It wasn't the first such near-miss that she'd experienced that day.

"Cripes, Jenny, that one nearly clipped you!" Tuck cried, using a word he'd picked up from her. "What's with you today?"

"I'm fine, guys, I'm just—" She smiled sheepishly. "I'm just…holding back a little bit, that's all."

"You sure?" Brad said. "You seem a little out of it today; like your mind's not quite in the game or something."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Well, why do you keep looking over your shoulder like that? Are you looking for somebody or what?"

"No!" she snapped, just a bit too defensively. "I'm just… I'm trying not to make it look too easy, that's all!" She then held out the Frisbee, preparing to toss it. "But if you want, I can easily pick up the pace! So get ready, guys, here it comes! Hey, Brad! Go long!" With that, she hurled the Frisbee skyward in a long, high arc, causing Brad to charge back far afield to catch it.

And so the game continued, in much the same fashion, with Jenny continuing to steal occasional glances over her shoulder in between throws and catches, repeatedly scanning the surrounding area.

"JENNY, LOOK OUT!" Brad cried out to her when her head was once again turned away.

"Wha—?" she said as her head whipped around, and for only the briefest of nanoseconds, her immediate field-of-vision was completely filled with the image of the Frisbee aiming straight for her face. Before she'd even realized what was happening or how her own automatic reflexes were reacting, her defensive eye-lasers activated, zeroed in on the flying projectile speeding toward her face, fired…

…and instantly incinerated the Frisbee.

"Oops…!" she said in a tiny, embarrassed voice. She covered her mouth with both hands and blushed a bright blue in embarrassment, as she surveyed the smoldering cinder lying on the grass that only moments before had been their Frisbee. "Sorry, guys…! I—I didn't mean to…!"

"Aw, man!" Tuck cried as he flung his cap to the ground in exasperation. "That's the fourth Frisbee you toasted this year!"

"I'm sorry, Tuck! I didn't mean to! I—I couldn't help it! It was an accident!"

"That's what you said the last time!" Tuck seethed in pint-sized fury. "And the time before that! And the time before that!"

"Easy, Tuck; easy. Settle down." Brad said as he approached his younger brother, placing a hand on his sibling's shoulder. "Take it easy. Jenny didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident, that's all." He turned to face her; he wasn't angry, but he was clearly concerned.

Gradually, little by little, Tuck began to calm down, eventually reaching a point where, apart from some barely-coherent fussing and grumbling muttered under his breath, he said little more. Though he was still fuming inside over the ruined Frisbee, he was more or less used to this kind of thing by now, and took it in stride as part of the price he occasionally had to pay in order to be best friends with a super-powered robot. Though he wasn't currently in the best of moods to admit it—not even to himself—he, like Brad, considered it a very small price to pay indeed, and considered himself very fortunate to have such a wonderfully unique and remarkable friend as Jenny in his life.

"I'm really, really sorry, Tuck," Jenny said sympathetically as she knelt down beside him, gently placing her hands upon his shoulders. "Look, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you a brand new Frisbee, okay? I promise. Just as soon as I get my next allowance."

"You promise?" Tuck looked at her, somewhat mollified.

"Promise!" She said, one hand raised, as though swearing an oath in court, and giving him a big smile.

In spite of himself, Tuck returned her smile. "Okay!" he said, his smile widening. He reached down and picked up his hat, placing it back upon his head.

"You don't have to do that, Jen." Brad said. "It was just a dumb accident, that's all. These things happen."

"No…no, I want to." She rose to her feet and grinned nervously when she caught the quizzical look on her best friend's face. "You see, I'm… Well…let's just say I'm going to try to take more responsibility for my goof-ups from now on." She explained with an embarrassed giggle.

"Oh…all right… If you insist," Brad looked at his watch and sighed. "Well…tell you what, guys: it's getting kind of late. We should probably start heading back home now anyway." He walked over to where their picnic-blanket was spread upon the grass, then knelt down and began packing up their sports-gear, their now-empty lunch-bags and their other belongings back into a gym-bag he'd brought with them, while Jenny folded up the picnic-blanket.

"Come on, Tuck," said Brad. "Help me pack up."

"Aw, man!" Tuck moaned in annoyance, rolling his eyes. Like most kids his age when visiting the park, he hated when it was time to go home. Nevertheless, he did as instructed.

"Ease up, Tiger; you've had a busy day," Brad smiled, hoping to cheer his brother up. "You don't want to overdo it."

"Yeah, after all, you don't want to get all 'Tuckered out,' do you?" Jenny joked, as she knelt down beside the boys, packing the blanket into the gym-bag.

Tuck sighed and rolled his eyes; like he'd never heard that one before…

"Tell you what," Brad offered, as he zipped the bag shut and hoisted it onto one shoulder. "We can stop by Mezmer's on the way home and I'll buy you a burger, fries & soda! And not the itty-bitty kid-sized meal, either, but the one you really like, the Mega-Meal!"

"Now you're talking!" Tuck cried, his mood immediately brightening. With renewed energy and enthusiasm, he now made a mad dash in the direction of the favorite local teen hangout/burger restaurant, with Jenny and Brad following close on his heels. "Come on, come on, come on, you slowpokes!" he called out to them. "Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"

A short while later, the three sat in a corner booth of the small restaurant. Brad and Tuck had each finished their hamburgers in short order, and were now sharing an extra-large order of fries, while Jenny sipped casually at a large can of Synthoil 20W-50.

As she sipped at her oleaginous beverage however, Jenny continued to glance around her, behind her, over her shoulder, just as she'd done earlier at the park, looking repeatedly in the direction of the restaurant entrance. Brad again noticed her curious behavior, but now, he chose to say nothing about it. Tuck, for his part, noticed nothing other than the fact that the extra-large order of fries sitting on the table seemed to be largely left unguarded, and therefore, ripe for the taking. He obliged by ferociously pouncing upon them like a ravenous jungle cat, and consuming the lion's share of them.

Darn…! Jenny thought as she glanced at the entrance for the umpty-umpth time. I was really hoping he'd show up here, at least…!

Brad narrowly observed her in silence. Tuck gobbled French-fries by the fistful…

Dr. Wakeman leaned forward, peering narrowly at the complex set of data on her computer-screen. She frowned, entered a few keystrokes to accentuate the points of data that attracted her attention, causing them to display in greater detail, and her frown deepened at what she saw.

I don't like the looks of this, she thought. This does not look good… Not at all…!

Just then, the front door opened and closed, followed shortly thereafter by the sharp clack-clack-clack sounds of heavy metallic footsteps through the hall.

"I'm home, Mom," Jenny's voice called from the hallway.

"Mmm," Dr. Wakeman murmured in reply. "Oh, XJ-9? Please come in here for a moment. I need to speak with you."

The metallic footsteps ceased abruptly as Jenny halted mid-stride, and her entire body stiffened at the sound of her creator's cold, severe tone of voice. Uh-oh! She thought. Am I in trouble again? What have I done this time?

She knew that tone all too well, and she knew that it signified something serious, often related to some mistake, foul-up or even just a minor transgression on her part. It frequently meant trouble of one kind or another for her, and after all the problems she'd just been through over the past weeks, the last thing she needed now was more trouble.

She sighed, turned and slowly walked to her creator's study, stopping at the threshold to await the inevitable bad news.

"Yeah, Mom…?" she said meekly.

Dr. Wakeman turned in her swivel-chair to face Jenny. Her expression was grave, but she didn't appear to be angry exactly; just…concerned. Concerned about what, Jenny had no idea. She only hoped it wasn't because of anything she did…

"XJ-9, I shall need you to be available at a moment's notice for the next several days," she stated matter-of-factly, coming straight to the point for a change. "I don't want you wandering too far away from home, and above all, I don't want you switching off your video-communication system, the way you sometimes do! I need to be able to contact you immediately, at any time. Do you understand? You are to consider yourself on Yellow Alert status from this moment forward, until further notice."

"Um…okay… But why?" Jenny said, her body tensing up immediately. "What's going on? What have I done this time?"

"You've done nothing wrong," Dr. Wakeman replied. "And I suppose I should have mentioned something about this before, but…well, what with your conscience-program behaving so erratically last week, and your…personal issues related to that, I didn't feel I should burden you with any more problems to deal with. However, now that you've managed to resolve that particular issue, I feel I can at last tell you about this one. I can 'let you into the picture,' so to speak."

She paused, as if for dramatic effect, and Jenny took the cue, bracing herself for what was to come. "Okay…" she said. "What is it?"

"Well, what is going on is…" Dr. Wakeman hesitated. "Well…you see, it's been so long since Tremorton has experienced a major crisis, that I now think we're overdue for one. I believe that we may be facing a major catastrophe very soon; that there is something looming on the horizon of a nature and magnitude that we haven't experienced for a very long time."

"Why do you say that?" Jenny asked. "Is there something on one of the space-monitors or something?"

"Well…not exactly." Dr. Wakeman said, in a vaguely evasive tone. "But I have been examining the results of some fresh data I've run through the computer this morning, and…well, it doesn't look good. In fact, it could indicate something very bad indeed."

"What kind of data?" Jenny asked, puzzled. "I haven't picked up anything on the police or fire frequencies. Or the Skyway Patrol or military frequencies, either."

"Well…the data I'm looking at is from the…" She hesitated. "…the Hasslein Probability Curve."

"The what?!" Jenny half-laughed. "What the heck is that?!"

"The Hasslein Probability Curve," Dr. Wakeman repeated. "One of the biggest, most and significant projects that I've been working on for the past ten years! The one for which I gave a presentation in Stockholm last year! I know I've spoken to you about it before! Numerous times! Don't tell me you've forgotten! Or perhaps you weren't listening in the first place! Is that it? You weren't paying attention, and so everything I said simply went in one audio-sensor and right out the other? Is that it, perhaps?"

Jenny responded with a feeble shrug, her head cocked to one side, trying her best to appear as innocent as a newborn babe.

Dr. Wakeman sighed in exasperation. "Honestly! I don't know why I even bother trying to tell you anything!" She fumed. "You never listen to me! I try my best to teach you everything I know, keeping you informed on all the latest developments in all my various fields of research, but do you listen? Do you care? No! You simply tune me out, ignore me, and—"

"All right, all right, Mom!" Jenny exclaimed, wincing. "You've made your point! You've got my attention now, all right? I'm listening… I'm listening..." She looked at her creator directly, devoting her full attention, and resigning herself to the fact that, like it or not, she was about to be subjected to another one of her creator's lengthy science lectures. She only hoped that it wouldn't turn out to be too long or boring… And that it wouldn't begin with the now-dreaded words: 'It all began with a huge explosion…'

"Very well then," Dr. Wakeman began, patiently. "The Hasslein Probability Curve Program is a highly intricate and complex computer program I've designed and developed, based upon the theories of the late Dr. Manfried von Hasslein of Waffleburg University. Its purpose is to calculate estimated probabilities of certain major events occurring in the future; events such as the many catastrophes and crises which tend to strike Tremorton with such alarming frequency. You see, it has long been my belief that these events are not merely the product of random, chaotic chance, but may, in fact, be part of some elusive, obscure pattern. It was Dr. Hasslein who first speculated about the existence of recurring 'event patterns' in the fabric of space-time over fifty years ago. He theorized that, although the universe as a whole is indeterministic in nature—meaning that, due to the uncertainty principle, we can never completely predict future outcomes with 100% certainty or accuracy, no matter how precisely we're able to measure the starting conditions and no matter how large a data-set we're working with—it may nevertheless be possible to calculate—or at least calculate estimates of—the probability of certain major events occurring in the future, within a specified timeframe. He theorized that these events could even appear and reappear in very specific, recurring patterns which might exist in the natural ebb and flow of the fabric of space-time; patterns which he couldn't detect in his time, but which he believed that others might perhaps one day discover in due time. Are you with me so far?"

Jenny nodded, trying to at least appear to be interested in the subject, and hoping that she wouldn't be called upon to take a pop-quiz on the material in a few weeks' time. I sure wish Mom would realize that, no matter how hard she tries, she's never gonna turn me into a science-geek! She thought.

"Now, these hypothetical 'event patterns' are, as I said, very obscure and elusive in nature, and therefore extremely difficult to detect; nearly impossible, in fact." Dr. Wakeman continued. "To most observers, the events may simply appear to be completely unrelated and unconnected phenomena. And Dr. Hasslein's theories are still not entirely accepted within the scientific community, either. Most of my colleagues consider his theories to be sheer crackpottery, in fact! They don't believe these 'event patterns' even exist, or that it's possible to detect them even if they do. But I disagree. After conducting my own researches in the field for many years, I now believe that, although it may be very difficult to detect these 'event patterns,' it may not necessarily be impossible. I believe it may be possible to detect them, given a sophisticated enough computer-program, a powerful enough computer, and a large enough data-set upon which to operate."

Dr. Wakeman paused to take a sip of tea, while Jenny uneasily shifted her weight from one foot the other, struggling to remain awake and alert and not accidentally slip into 'sleep mode.' Cliff-notes version, Mom…! she silently pleaded. Cliff-notes version, please…! Let's get to the point!

"Now…this program I've designed—which I've named the Hasslein Probability Curve Program—has, I believe, done just that!" Dr. Wakeman announced with a broad smile. "Yes, yes, I know; it may sound hard to believe, but it's true! I believe I've successfully cracked 'The Hasslein Probability Problem!"

At last! Jenny thought hopefully. It sounds like we're finally coming to the point soon!

"Now this program uses a very large data-set for its operation; huge, in fact, going back over ten years, and utilizing multiple data-streams of various types, from all parts of the globe. There's data from thousands of subterranean seismographic probes placed hundreds of feet beneath the earth's surface, in various locations around the world, measuring even the tiniest of seismic tremors. There's data from thousands of oceanographic probes placed at various points along the ocean floor, measuring such things as micro-changes in ocean currents, micro-changes in temperature, varying salinity-levels and so forth. There's data from a number of observatories, both terrestrial and space-based, including the Nerva One Deep Space Station, and many, many others. In short, I've included every kind of scientific data I could think of, from both inner and outer space, anything that I thought could be useful or relevant. And after years of running all this data through the program, double-checking and cross-checking the results to rule out possible mistakes, miscalculations, false conclusions, faulty or inaccurate data…or even so-called 'junk data', I'm now satisfied that the program has successfully passed the testing-phase, and has successfully detected the existence of 'event patterns' in the space-time continuum! It has consistently, repeatedly and accurately predicted more than 80% of the major events to strike Tremorton over the past forty-two months!" Dr. Wakeman beamed widely, like a small child who'd just received a much-desired toy on her birthday. Clearly, there was no mistaking the intense pride she felt at her accomplishment. "It has validated the Hasslein Hypothesis!" she smiled.

Jenny, meanwhile, simply folded her arms and patiently waited for her creator to indicate that she had arrived at something resembling a conclusion. "Okay, sooooo…therefore, what?" she asked, with a single raised eyebrow. "I mean, this program you designed sounds really cool and I know you're proud of it and all that, but what's it got to do with me? What's it got to do with any of us, for that matter?"

"Well, don't you see?!" Dr. Wakeman exclaimed, as though the point should be obvious. "Now that the program has detected the existence of recurring 'event patterns' and has consistently forecast a significant percentage of past major events, it can be used to make projections into the future, and forecast the likelihood of future disasters and catastrophes! Which, in turn, will allow us to better prepare for such events in advance, before they strike!"

Jenny stared blankly at her creator. "So…wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Are you telling me it can predict the future?" The expression on her face, coupled with her tone of voice, clearly indicated that she didn't believe a word of it.

"Well…not exactly predict the future, per se… It can only forecast the probability of certain events occurring within a certain timeline, based upon a very-specific set of circumstances and a very-large, highly-inclusive set of data. But…in a very-rough manner of speaking, and putting it very roughly in layman's terms…I suppose you could say that the program can, in a sense, predict the future."

Jenny simply stared at her creator, wondering if the long hours she'd been working on her various projects had finally gotten to her, and that she was now finally beginning to crack up. "You're kidding, right?" She said.

"No, I'm not kidding!" Dr. Wakeman scowled. "I never 'kid' when it comes to science, XJ-9! You should know that!"

"So that means we can pick winners at the racetrack or go to Vegas and clean up at the casinos, right?" She grinned.

Dr. Wakeman sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, XJ-9!" she exclaimed, regretting for the moment that she'd designed a robot with a sense of humor. "It can't do that! It wasn't designed for silly, trivial purposes such as that. And it can't predict anything that specific, either; certainly nothing so narrowly-defined as the results of a game of chance in a casino, or the results at a race-track. It can only forecast estimates of the likelihood of certain major, even catastrophic events, and only in the most general of terms."

Jenny continued to stare at her creator in silence for a seeming eternity. At last,

Dr. Wakeman rightly suspected the skepticism behind the blank stare, and asked, "Well…? What do you think? Or has the cat got your vocoder-circuit?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mom…" Jenny finally replied as tactfully as she could manage. "It sounds pretty far-fetched to me…awfully tough to believe..."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it does," Dr. Wakeman said, with just a touch of annoyance. "But look here, XJ-9, you cannot ignore the evidence," She entered some keystrokes into the computer, and the graphic which had displayed on the screen vanished, replaced by another chart, indicating a more extensive time-frame, and displaying more inclusive and detailed data. She pointed to various points on the screen with a pencil as she explained further, and Jenny bent over to examine them for herself.

"Observe," Dr. Wakeman went on. "In running data from the past forty-two months alone, I've discovered that every single major catastrophe that has struck Tremorton was first preceded by a series of seemingly-random, seemingly-unconnected bizarre anomalies occurring all over the world within a 28-day period, as if these events were precursors, or preliminaries to the 'main event' that ultimately struck Tremorton. You see how these small 'precursor events' all appeared in very specific patterns? See how they all preceded the major event which ultimately struck Tremorton in the estimated time-frame?"

Jenny examined the chart more closely, then shook her head. "Um…nope, sorry, Mom, but I don't see a pattern there."

Dr. Wakeman sighed. "Look again. Look very closely. Notice how so many of the smaller events appear in clusters within a 24-hour period. Now look at the numbers of those events within each period. Now observe how those numbers diminish over time. Now look at the ratio of that diminution. Now do you see what I'm getting at?"

Jenny did as directed and examined the chart very closely. Suddenly, her face brightened and she broke into a huge smile. "Oh, I see!" she said. "It's a kind of number-sequence! Like a Fibonacci series!"

"Precisely!" Dr. Wakeman exclaimed, delighted that her daughter had, at last, understood. "Except that it's in reverse-order! Instead of getting larger and larger, the number of events become smaller and smaller, but each individual event becomes bigger and bigger! The first three 'event clusters' appear in a random number each, then every 24 hours, the number of new events diminishes by a certain ratio, and the ratio of that diminution is a product of the preceding numbers, eventually resulting in a '1', with that '1' being the 'biggie,' the 'Main Event' that usually—but not always—eventually strikes Tremorton."

"Okay," Jenny replied cautiously. "I think I'm with you so far…" she half-conceded. "But—but look here, these 'Biggie Main Events' on this chart you've got here are all from the past; months ago! What was it you said about running some new data this morning?"

"I'm coming to that right now," Dr. Wakeman replied with a satisfied smile, pleased that she had at last managed to capture her daughter's attention and interest. She entered more keystrokes, and the graphic on the computer screen changed yet again, returning to the chart displayed earlier, only now newly-updated with fresh data, and in greater detail. Dr. Wakeman again pointed to each indicator on the chart with a pencil. "Now, look at this set of candlestick indicators for the past seven weeks, of the various anomalies and unusual phenomena from around the world. Just look at them all! Do you notice anything? They're all red; flashing red, in fact! This one, for example, is for a series of seismic anomalies in Kyrgyzstan. Five minor earthquakes in a row, within five days of one another, each one measuring exactly 3.14159 on the Richter-scale! Did you hear me? All five measuring exactly 3.14159! Do you realize how unlikely that is? What the odds against it are? In the billions, at least, if not the trillions!Theoretically, it cannot happen! But it did! Or you take this one," Dr. Wakeman now spoke with growing rapidity and agitation. "This one is for an undersea, unexplained mass sponge-migration near Fiji. True, they only migrated approximately 18 inches, and the migration itself occurred over a period of forty-eight hours, so it could only be detected and recorded by means of time-lapse photography, but still! It's unexplained! It's a mystery! Or you take this one, a sudden, unexplained increase by 0.01762% in the hedgehog population of Doncaster, UK. And an identical increase of 0.01762% in the population of banana slugs in Santa Cruz, California!" She shook her head. "Hmm….no information reported yet as to how these facts were determined however…or by what means they arrived at these figures… Pity...I should like to have known that…" She paused, then focused on another area of the chart. "This one is for a mysterious astronomical phenomenon reported over Tunguska, near Siberia: a streaking flash of light, apparently originating from the Comet Kawaye! And…well….too many other strange, unusual phenomena to be ignored." She shook her head. "No, no, you add up all these seemingly random improbabilities, and run them through the Hasslein Probability matrix, and it all adds up to one thing: An even bigger improbability on the way! A giga-improbability, if you will."

Jenny simply regarded her creator in silence, then shook her head. "It's still awfully hard to believe, Mom," she said. "I mean, I can sorta see those number-sequences you were talking about, but other than that, I really don't see any connection between any of these events, to be honest. Or any connection to anything that could possibly affect us here in Tremorton either, for that matter."

Dr. Wakeman looked at her daughter, crestfallen. Jenny caught the look on her creator's face, and she continued, but in a gentler tone. "I mean…I know you put a lot of work into this thing, but …" She paused. "Well, couldn't all these weird events just be a coincidence?"

Dr. Wakeman blinked in surprise, as though the possibility suggested was one that had never occurred to her, and that she didn't even want to consider. "Well…yes, I suppose these events could be simply coincidental in nature," she conceded softly. "There is definitely that possibility, and I suppose I cannot ignore it."

She fell silent for only a moment, before she spoke again, the tone of her voice quickly regaining its former firm, confident tone. "However," she said. "I still believe that the Hasslein theory is sound and that these conclusions are valid. In which case, these phenomena, when run through the Probability matrix, all indicate a 98.66666% probability of significant event occurring in Tremorton very soon, within a few days, possibly; within a week or two at the most."

"But what kind of event is it gonna be?" Jenny asked, at least trying to take her creator's far-fetched theory seriously enough to apply to concrete, real-world terms. "You mean like another meteor on a collision-course with the earth? A massive electromagnetic pulse about to strike and shut down the internet and the electrical-grid? Another Martian invasion of New Jersey? A crazy arch-criminal on the loose, about to steal a million dollars' worth of nickels from the US Mint? A giant earthquake about to strike Louisiana? A tsunami about to strike Nebraska?" Dr. Wakeman shook her head at each option offered. "Well, what, then?" Jenny demanded, with increasing exasperation. "I mean, you must have some idea what to expect, right?"

"I can't tell for certain," Dr. Wakeman said with a feeble shrug. "As I said, the probability-curve program isn't that specific."

Then what good is the stupid cockamamie thing?! Jenny thought in a growing pique. And why should I care?! "Well, can you tell me if this," she said. "This expected event, whatever it is, is it liable to come by land? Or from space? Or could it be something dredged up from the sea, like the Bromdollusian Sludge-Monster? Something like that?" More head-shaking from Dr. Wakeman was the only response to each option suggested.

"Will it come from the North? South? East? West?" Jenny pleaded, her patience rapidly running out. "Can you give me a hint?! Am I getting warm? Am I getting cold? Am I in the ballpark, at least?!" A feeble series of shrugs was the only response.

"Well, what exactly can your stupid program tell me?!" Jenny demanded, her patience now having reached its limit.

"All I can tell you is this," Dr. Wakeman frowned, irked at the descriptive of her program as 'stupid.' "Whatever it is that's on the horizon coming this way, it's going to be a real doozy; something that no one could have foreseen. In fact…" She turned to face the chart again, narrowly scrutinizing it for just a moment. "…the last time I saw a pattern similar to this was some months ago, just before we…" She shuddered, and her voice broke off mid-sentence. "No…no, I'm telling you: Something big is coming this way very soon, and whatever it is, it's going to be a real doozy!" She paused, and leaned back in her chair, looking at her robotic daughter directly. "So…just…be alert, be on your guard and be prepared to—" She chuckled at the irony of the expression that came to her mind. "Well…expect the unexpected!"

'Expect the unexpected!' Jenny thought with silent derision. A lot of good that does me! Years and years of research, tons and tons of data, countless hours of computation-time and number-crunching, and that's the best you can come up with? 'Expect the unexpected?' Cripes, I could've gotten that out of a fortune cookie!

"But Mom…" she said cautiously. "What if… I mean, just suppose this…'doozy' never happens? What then?"

"Well…if the…'doozy' ultimately never happens," She took a deep breath, her eyebrows raised. "…it could simply mean that I may have made a slight miscalculation somewhere along the line that I didn't detect, something that slipped through the testing phase. Or that the data I've used may be slightly flawed in some way. Or inaccurate. Or incomplete. Or the conclusions drawn and the predictions made are simply based upon insufficient evidence."

Or it could just mean that the whole kooky theory itself is a bunch of baloney! Jenny thought. However, she chose to keep this opinion to herself, unwilling to argue the point any further. "All right, Mom," she conceded with a sigh, by now weary of the entire subject. "Just in case your goofy probability program is onto something and a real doozy is in store for us, I promise I won't wander very far from home, and I'll be ready at a moment's notice. Just like I always am."

Dr. Wakeman regarded her daughter in a vaguely-suspicious silence for a moment; then, satisfied that Jenny had gotten the message and accepted the warning, she turned her attention back to the computer screen. "Well…all right, then…" she said. "Just…be prepared; that's all I ask."

Jenny responded with a small nod of acknowledgment, then turned and left the room. Just as she did so however, a fresh stream of data flowed into the computer, causing the chart to automatically update with new changes. The chart now spiked in several places, with even more indicators flashing red on the screen.

This does not look good… Dr. Wakeman thought as she pored over the fresh data. Not…at…all…

The truth was, Dr. Wakeman was not alone in her concerns. Her feelings of unease and apprehension were shared by many of the townspeople of Tremorton, including the town officials, even the mayor (who, naturally, expressed his concerns to others on a strictly "off the record" basis.) All experienced vague but growing feelings of nervous anticipation, as though they were all waiting for a ticking bomb to go off. They were tense, edgy, jumpy.

"It's not natural!" was the most-common sentiment expressed. "For this town to go this long without being struck by a disaster, a monster attack or an alien-invasion or anything? It's unheard of!" Or, "Nothing like this has ever happened before in the whole history of this town!" Or, "It must be an evil omen! A portent of bad things to come!"

Publicly, of course, the mayor and town officials did their best to put up a bold, brave front when addressing the issue. "Nothing to be concerned about, we assure you," they said, dismissing any and all expressed concerns out of hand. "This town has all the necessary resources to deal with any emergency of any kind at any time, and we are fully prepared to meet any crisis we may encounter." Privately, however, many of them began to hoard such necessities as food and drinking-water, stockpiling cans and jars of non-perishables in their cellars and basements—basements which were, naturally, constructed like bank-vaults and bomb-shelters. Many people, such as the Mayor, had even invested in emergency electric generators.

"Just in case…" was the explanation quietly offered to close friends and family-members. "Just in case… Because…well…you never know…"

Sunday morning and afternoon soon arrived, and for Jenny, Brad and Tuck, it followed in much the same fashion as Saturday had. The morning consisted of a few hours spent at the skate-park, followed by a leisurely stroll over to the park for a few hours of volleyball, soccer and playing catch—with the only variation being the substitution of a football to take the place of the incinerated Frisbee of the day before. And, like Saturday again, the time passed all too quickly, and soon, it was time for the three to return home.

"Can we stop at Mezmer's again on the way home?" asked Tuck as he helped pack the football and other items back into the gym-bag.

"Can we?" Jenny echoed hopefully.

"Naw, sorry, we can't today," replied Brad. "We've got Sunday dinner waiting for us at home, and Mom doesn't want us spoiling our appetite on burgers and fries again today. Besides, tomorrow's a school day, so we have to be home fairly early tonight."

At the mere mention of school, Tuck's face noticeably soured. Brad grinned at the reaction; he remembered being that age all too well, when school seemed to be mostly a tedious, boring chore to get through. Just wait a few years, kiddo! he thought with a knowing smile. When you start to notice girls, you'll find a whole new reason to look forward to school!

But when Brad turned down the suggestion of heading to Mezmer's, Jenny's reaction was also one of disappointment. Her reaction was so subtle however, that Brad didn't even notice it. Nor would he have suspected the real reason behind it.

"Well, come on," Brad said, zipping the gym-bag shut and throwing it over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The three friends walked several blocks until they were approximately three-quarters of the way home, when Jenny suddenly halted in her tracks, with a curious look on her face.

"Um, guys?" she said. "I'm…gonna take a slight detour home today. I'll see you both a little later, okay?"

"Um…sure, Jenny," Brad replied, slightly puzzled. "Anything the matter?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. I just want to check on something, that's all. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Want us to go with you?" Tuck offered.

"No, no, thanks; that's all right. It's just a…" she hesitated. "Well…it's just a personal matter."

"Oh. Okay," Brad replied, now even more puzzled.

"If you see my mom, tell her I'll be home a little later. Okay?"

"Sure, Jen. See you."

"'Bye," She turned and trotted off in a direction opposite from her usual route home.

"'Bye," said Tuck, both boys waving after her as she departed.

A short while later, Jenny arrived at Sheldon's house. As she approached the front door, she felt strangely uneasy, sensing that something, somewhere was wrong; something which compelled her to investigate. After a moment's hesitation, she reached over and rang the doorbell, then waited patiently.

I sure hope he's okay, she thought. He was so upset on Friday night… And then I didn't see him anywhere all weekend… I thought for sure he'd show up at the park, or Mezmer's, but…

After a few moments, her ultra-sensitive audio-detection sensors picked up the faint sounds of footsteps coming from inside, approaching the door, and she clasped her hands tightly together.

But the moment the door opened, she was immediately disappointed. For it was not Sheldon standing in the doorway, as she'd hoped, but rather a woman, whom Jenny estimated to be 'parent-age,' somewhere in her late thirties to early forties. The woman was small, even petite, approximately five-feet-one or so, Jenny estimated, and slender—almost as petite as Pteresa from school. From the first glance, Jenny noted that the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Sheldon: In addition to her small, slim stature, she had jet black hair, streaked with strands of silver here and there, and worn in a casual, yet stylish page. Her eyes were deep, dark, almond-shaped and penetrating, glittering with a sharp, active and incisive intelligence, and accented by a pair of sharp, prominent cheekbones. Though not unattractive, the woman's face had a careworn look to it, as though from many years of carrying the burdens, worries and cares that invariably went with the responsibilities of parenthood.

Also, it seemed to Jenny that the woman gave off a decidedly…intimidating air, as of one who has, through years of hard effort and struggle, achieved a position of unquestioned authority, and who was used to being in control of any and all situations at all times. Though Jenny had never met the woman before, she immediately recognized her to be Sheldon's mother.

"Yes?" The woman said, regarding Jenny with a penetrating gaze.

"Um…hello, Mrs. Lee, is Shel—"

"It's Doctor; not Mrs." The woman corrected Jenny sharply.

"Oh…excuse me, Dr. Lee," Jenny said, awkwardly. "Could you tell me—"

"It isn't Lee, either," The woman corrected Jenny again, with a faint scowl. "It's Toshiro. Doctor Toshiro."

"Oh…excuse me…" Jenny replied again, this time even more awkwardly. "I—um…I'm sorry, I thought that—um…" The blue LEDs beneath Jenny's cheeks began to glow with embarrassment at her twin faux pas in a row.

"Sheldon took his father's name," Dr. Toshiro explained. "I kept my family name. And it's the name that I bear upon my Diplomas and Degrees."

"I—I beg your pardon, Dr. Toshiro," Jenny said, immediately humbled, feeling both very impressed and very intimidated. "I'm…Jenny Wakeman. Sheldon's friend from school. Maybe…maybe you've heard him mention me…?" She paused, waiting for a response of some kind. Dr. Toshiro, for her part, betrayed no reaction, no emotion, other than a vague…disapproval, it seemed to Jenny. "Can—can you tell me, is—is Sheldon home?" Jenny asked in a tiny, subdued voice.

Dr. Toshiro regarded Jenny with an icy stare for several long moments. "Just what was it you wanted to see him about, Ms. Wakeman?" she asked, her arms folded.

"I—I just wanted to talk to him for a minute or two. That's all."

"What about?"

"Well, I just…um…I just…wanted to…see him…that's all…." She paused with a tiny shudder she hoped wasn't noticeable. "You know…just a friendly visit. Like I said, I'm a friend of his."

"Are you now…?" Dr. Toshiro asked coldly, her eyes narrowed and with a detectable scowl upon her face. Jenny grew more and more nervous and uncomfortable with each passing moment, the way she felt at school when questioned by a teacher about an unexcused absence, or a late homework assignment…or a destroyed classroom wall.

"Um…yes…I am …" was all Jenny could utter.

Another long, cold silence followed before Dr. Toshiro replied, "Well…I'm afraid Sheldon is…well…he isn't available right now."

"Oh. Um…okay…" Jenny hesitated. "Um…can you tell me when would be a good time when I could see him?"

"I really couldn't say, Ms. Wakeman." The words were simple, but Dr. Toshiro spoke them with a distinct chilliness, matching her overall tone and attitude.

Jenny could no longer ignore the emotions behind the nonverbal cues, and she found that she just had to respond to them. "Is—is Sheldon all right, Dr. Toshiro?" she asked. "Is anything wrong with him?"

Dr. Toshiro frowned. "I don't believe that's any of your business, Ms. Wakeman," She said bluntly. Her tone was quiet, but as hard and sharp as cold steel. "And if my son wanted you to know the details of his personal life, I believe he'd have told you."

Jenny's mouth dropped open in shock, and inwardly, she reeled at the bluntness and thinly-veiled hostility behind the words. Now there could be no mistake or doubt: Dr. Toshiro definitely did not like Jenny in the slightest; from her words, tone and general demeanor, she clearly bore some sort of grudge against Jenny, and Jenny had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew why.

"Oh…! Er…um… O—okay…" she stammered, taking a tiny step backward. "I—I'm sorry I bothered you, Dr. Toshiro… But—um…if you could please tell Sheldon I stopped by, I'd sure appreciate it." She tried her best to sound friendly and ingratiating, but it didn't seem to make even the tiniest dent in Dr. Toshiro's icy stoicism.

After a seemingly interminable silence, Dr. Toshiro replied with a small nod, "All right. I'll tell him." She spoke the words evenly, almost tonelessly, as she began to close the door.

"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Toshiro." Jenny said as she took another step back, and started to turn away. As she did, she gave Dr. Toshiro what she felt was her friendliest, most winning smile.

Just before closing the door however, Dr. Toshiro spoke again. "Ms. Wakeman?" she said.

"Yes, Doctor?" Jenny replied, turning back hopefully to face her.

Dr. Toshiro folded her arms once again and regarded Jenny with a frown. "Just so that we understand each other, Ms. Wakeman," she said, quietly but meaningfully. "If you ever hurt my son again…I will take you apart with my own hands, piece by piece if I have to. Do you understand?" To Jenny, it sounded like less of a threat than a definite promise, and she felt a sudden chill, as though all the coolants in her body had instantly dropped by 20 degrees.

"Ulp…y—yes, Dr. Toshiro; I understand," Jenny replied in the subdued, submissive voice she often used with her creator and her teachers, after she had really screwed things up big time.

"Good," Dr. Toshiro regarded Jenny with a chilling smile. "Just so we understand each other. Good-bye." With that, she closed the door.

Jenny shuddered, then slowly turned and walked home, slowly at first, then more briskly. Without even intending to, she suddenly realized, she had somehow managed to acquire a new and formidable enemy…

"Who was that, Mom?" Sheldon called out from halfway down the stairs.

"No one," his mother replied, as she stepped away from the front door.

"I thought I heard my name mentioned," he said, now having reached the foot of the stairs. "Was it anyone I know?"

Dr. Toshiro regarded her son soberly and replied with a sigh, "Well, if you must know, it was that…that robot girl. The one who attacked you a few weeks ago."

Sheldon blinked in surprise and he swallowed reflexively; then his face noticeably drooped. "Oh," he replied in a small voice. He turned away and slowly walked toward the kitchen. "You mean…Jenny…" he said.

"I told her you weren't available," his mother continued. "And that is true; you're not. And you know why."

Sheldon sighed and closed his eyes. "I know, Mom; I know…"

"You needn't look so disappointed," She said, as she followed her son into the kitchen. "I can't imagine why you would even want to see that…robot girl anymore anyway. Not after what she did to you."

Sheldon winced, shutting his eyes tightly. "Mom, please. Don't start. It's over and done with. Let's not go into it all over again."

"Well, pardon me, for being concerned about my only son, and wanting to protect him from a dangerous, deranged killer robot," Dr. Toshiro continued sharply. "But if wanting to protect my own flesh and blood from that mechanical monster makes me a criminal, then so be it; I suppose I'm guilty as charged."

Sheldon sighed, but otherwise did not respond. Instead, he turned and looked directly at his mother. "You know, you never did tell me howyou found out about that incident, by the way." He said. "I know I never mentioned it to you. So how do you happen to know all about it?"

Dr. Toshiro approached her son and gently placed both her hands on his shoulders, and looked deeply into his eyes. She gave him what was intended to be a reassuring smile, but which, in many circumstances, often ended up achieving quite the opposite effect. This was one such instance.

"Sheldon," she said softly. "I'm your mother, remember? I'm not stupid. I can see right through you. I can practically tell what you're thinking. And, if you remember, when you were very young, and before I took on the role of Chief Surgeon at Tremorton General, I also held a seat on the City Council for many years. I still have plenty of friends downtown, with plenty of connections, official and otherwise, numerous sources and back-channels of information, people who can and do keep me informed about anything and everything that concerns me, my profession, my community and my family. Now, knowing all of that, do you honestly believe that there is anything that could happen within a one hundred mile radius of this town that could jeopardize the health and safety of my own son, that I wouldn't know something about? Or at least hear about?"

"No…no, I suppose not…" he finally conceded. It was true: Trying to keep almost any kind of secret from his mother had long since proven to be next to impossible.

"Besides, you haven't exactly been forthcoming with me, about how you became involved with that government agency in the first place," she went on. "Nor can I understand how you could have legally gotten a job with them, since you're still technically a minor. I'm no lawyer, but I believe you do legally need parental consent to get even a part-time job—especially one as hazardous as that! And yet, you never even asked me for it! You never even discussed the matter with me!"

Sheldon sighed in weary exasperation. "I already told you, Mom; that wasn't exactly a job; it was more like a…a…an internship, for…gifted students. Something I thought you'd approve of. And I didn't tell you because I thought…well…um…I thought it would make a nice surprise."

Even though the story was well-rehearsed within Sheldon's own mind, it was obvious—especially to his mother—that not one word of it was true.

"Another thing I don't understand," Dr. Toshiro went on. "Is why you never came to me and told me about what that…that robot did to you."

Sheldon sighed and rolled his eyes. "I already explained, Mom! I didn't tell you about it because that whole experience was humiliating enough as it was for me, and I didn't want to make it worse by getting you involved in it and making a big thing out of it."

'Making a big thing out of it'?! Dr. Toshiro thought in astonishment, as she silently echoed her son's words. This was 'a big thing' young man!

But before she could say anything, Sheldon continued. "I just wanted to…handle it myself, and…I did." He paused. "At this point, I just want to put the whole thing behind me and…and forget about it." If I can! He thought, wincing.

"Besides," he went on, his tone acquiring a hard, accusatory edge. "You're never around that much! Even if I wanted to tell you! Most nights, you don't get home from work until real late, way after I go to bed. And in the morning, you usually sleep late! So it's not like I can—"

"Sheldon!" Dr. Toshiro said firmly, cutting him off. "That's enough! Now you know my job is important to us. We need the money, for one thing. After all, there is no one else available to pay the bills for us, and take care of us, if I don't do it myself."

Sheldon said nothing, but looked away, and—unnoticed by his mother—his jaw tightened.

"Furthermore, I do have certain responsibilities, certain duties and obligations as Chief Surgeon at Tremorton General, one of which is that I must be on-call whenever I'm needed, almost any hour of the day or night. Whenever I am needed at the ER or trauma-ward, I go in, and that's it, no arguments, no excuses. There are simply too many people who are dependent upon me. My being there at the right time could literally mean the difference between life or death for someone."

She paused, allowing her son to absorb and reflect upon her words, and slowly, almost reluctantly, Sheldon turned to face her again.

"Now…I would certainly like to have more free time to spend with you and help you to deal with your various problems and issues," she went on, in a softer tone. "Believe me I would. I would like to be there for you when you need me. But unfortunately, that just isn't possible. Other people need me too; people whose lives literally depend upon me."

"I know, Mom; I know…" Sheldon said quietly.

A silence followed for a moment, before Dr. Toshiro continued, her voice subtly regaining her usual authoritarian tone.

"But…be that as it may," she said. "And regardless of why you chose not to tell me about that…incident, you still haven't answered my other question. Namely: Why on earth you should even want to get near that…that robot again."

"Mom, I don't!" Sheldon exclaimed, more vehemently than he'd intended. "At least…not anymore. I already told you: it's all over and done with between me and her. It's over. I'm over her." He paused, then shrugged and finished in a much softer tone. "I'm not planning on…getting anywhere near her ever again."

Dr. Toshiro regarded her son with due sympathy. It was clear that she didn't believe his disclaimers any more than she believed his story of his involvement with the secret government agency. Nor could she ignore the pain that was evident in his voice as he spoke. It was obvious that, despite his best efforts to conceal it, a part of him was still hurting inside.

"Well…I just hope she realizes that, young man." She said gently. "I truly hope she does. Because she seems to believe otherwise."

"Oh, I doubt that," Sheldon replied. "The truth is, she never really liked me all that much to begin with, so I doubt she's going to suddenly start now."

End Chapter 1