The universe kept running, with stars and galaxies as ordained. They turned and twirled and danced, having done so for days without end. A meticulous, well-thought-out plan governed by the laws of nature, immutable and meant to be.

Man also had been ordained, to follow a plan meant to be. A plan not governed by laws, but by the hand of God. For God loved Man and cared for him, and gifted him with the skills he would need to bear burdens, solve problems, and thrive. A unique dance, meant only for God and his kin, and also for days without end.

A dance that Carolin now knew did not account for beings such as she.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

With her backhoe clanking in his face, Carolin disarmed the man with gun using one of her medium-sized claws, breaking his finger in the process. She passed the weapon down to her lower extremities where, with surprising speed and dexterity, she stripped to its constituent parts. Passing the parts to her strongest pair of arms, she flung them at the intruders, giving them second thoughts about coming to the injured man's rescue.

The campus security guards bid a hasty retreat, with Dean Mandy Dayne following soon after. The second NSA spook, still standing near the door, hesitated before making his exit, facillitated in no small part by Carolin's original servo-arm throwing everything it could find at him, in a machine-gun style.

The headless humanoid lurched to life, thrashing its metal tray and crashing through the trash in its corner, making noise as a way to draw the attention of Agent Redie. It thwarted any attempt she made to come to the aid of her subordinate, who was now in the battle droid's grasp.

The behemoth with a Plasticene head had the injured man wrapped up with eight mechanical arms. It escorted him to the door where, with a shove from its central backhoe, he bounced off the far wall in the hallway and left in an ungainly hurry. It then turned to face Agent Redie, who had been boxed off by the headless robot. The behemoth positioned itself so that the Agent had no choice but to follow the path out the door the others had already taken. She hesitated in an attempt to stand her ground, and reached into her jacket to draw her service weapon.

Carolin would have nothing of it. With agility that gave pause, she removed the pistol from its holster before Agent Redie could touch it, dislocating her shoulder while tearing into her jacket. Using every ounce of her awesome might, Carolin flung the pistol with so much force that it tore through the pastoral painting in her faux apartment and embedded itself in the wall.

The painting came crashing down, distracting the Agent with the sound. She screamed from the agony of having her left arm hanging useless at her side. The speaker in the behemoth screamed back—ever louder, each word more than the last—until it seemed all but certain that plaster would crack from the walls.

"Get out of my home! Leave! Go away!"

The headless robot used its tray to whap Agent Redie in the ass, giving her the incentive she needed to do as she'd been told. The behemoth repositioned, intending give her a shove with its central backhoe, like it had done to the spook with the broken finger.

She needed no further prodding. Seething from anger more than from pain, Agent Redie left. She spouted epitaths on her way out, but couldn't be heard over the volume of Carolin's incessant screaming.

The behemoth then went silent, and deftly slammed the door. Still showing strength and agility, it stacked objects against the door until it was no longer visible, barricading it with a near ton of stuff.

The Plasticene head set its cornflower orbs to gaze upon the Professor. The rubber lips of its mouth formed a pleasant smile. Bits of shredded clothing still clung to the battle droid shell, causing Turing's eyes to dart as he took in the totality on display.

Somehow, the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project had disconnected the behemoth from the corner of where it stood, firmly chained. Cables and hoses trailed after it, spouting sparks and thin streams of hydraulic fluid from the damage it had caused by racing across the lab.

It picked its way through the ruins to repair the damage, done by both it and the man with the gun. These activations held Turing's attention, mesmerizing him with the sight and sound of watching his creation perform. He counted its arms as it labored, surprisingly efficient, and capable of doing multiple tasks at once.

Six arms sprouted from upper weapon ports, where cavities meant to hold ammunition housed pumps and electric motors. A fourth set of arms—the powerful ones Carolin had used to throw things and move objects—were mounted near its base. Four additional arms were also mounted there, looking like surgical instruments, and arranged in a row.

Each arm made its own set of specific clicks and whirs, as Carolin repaired the damage. When able, the Plasticene head gazed at Eugene and smiled, with the soft blue light behind its eyes turning on and off at random, simulating the act of blinking.

In conjunction with the Behavior Recognition software Carolin had legally obtained, the Gradient Means Analysis software she was using without permission told her that Eugene had slipped into a slight state of shock. The Heuristic/Deterministic program she also had recently stolen gave her the impression that the violent nature of the activations she'd used to rid the lab of intruders was the most probable cause.

I need to allay his fear. She orientated herself to perform an act meant to offer comfort.

"Eugene," she said in her most effeminate voice. "I'm sorry. I had to… "

He stumbled, surprised by the sound, and tried to step away from the looming monstrosity. Carolin realized that he hadn't stumbled due to revulson or fear, but knowing this brought no peace of mind. In fact, it nearly caused the gentle flame of her soul to flicker out.

There were no lock-ups to fight. No subroutines in need of rewriting. What Carolin saw with her very own eyes nearly killed her, right then and there, and dead on the spot.

A pool of liquid formed around Eugene's right shoe. Heaving on a grunt, he stumbled again, leaning his weight against a table to keep from collapsing. A painful expression crossed his face, and caused his eyes to close.

Carolin wished she could die. She was made of steel and titanium, and plastic strong enough to deflect an army of bullets. Eugene was, however, not made of such sturdy stuff.

The pool of liquid was blood.

Eugene had been shot.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It's easy to believe at times that God doesn't care for his children. That we've been left behind, forgotten and bereft.

I MUST NOT LOCK UP I MUST NOT PANIC

The faithful among us, however, know that this is not the case. God is closest when we're helpless, guiding us with the light of his love.

Don't panic. Dontpanicdontpanicdontpanic.

No matter how bad things may seem, how daunting the obstacle is that we must surmount, those who trust in God prevail, over any and all circumstance.

The battle droid shell roared up to Eugene, using one of its surgical instrument arms to split his pant leg open, from the crotch all the way down. Her lower bank of video sensors assessed the wound.

Activate database search. Keywords: "Leg Injury"… Cross reference keywords with laceration, deep wound, serious bleeding…

I must not panic. I must not lock up. I must not panic. I must not lock up.

ACTIVATE MEDICAL RESPONSE.

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With the swiftness of a combat medic, Carolin made a tourniquet and several bandages by tearing up the bits of the housecoat still clinging to her shell. She applied these rudimentary dressings, then raced to a first aid kit that hung on a nearby pillar. Without bothering to be delicate, she ripped the kit from its mount and splayed it open on the table where Eugene was still leaning. She returned to him with gauze, tape and pads, and more closely examined the wound.

It's a stuggle to look forward to the day, when every day we live seems worse than the one before. But by focusing on the task at hand—on one task and one task only—desperation is removed from the equation, and intimidation kept at bay.

Professor Turing barely had time to stutter, watching Carolin work on his leg in a frenzy.

"W-what… what are you doing?" he asked, unaware of the situation he was in due to his slight level of shock.

I must not lock up. I must not panic. Dontpanicdontpanicdontpanic.

Though sudden and very serious, Eugene's wound wasn't life-threatening. Carolin probed it with her most delicate appendage, and determined that it was clean and held no shrapnel. But it was deep and bleeding profusely. She also rightly determined that the event was having a far more traumatic effect on her than it was on him.

I must not lock up. I must not lock up. I must not lock up. Don't panic.

The more we choose to believe in God, the more the day is robbed of its ability to impose fear. Hope and courage arrive when we come to realize that God's plan for us has been cast.

Carolin could see that the wound was not the result of a riccochet from the bullet the man had fired. Rather, Eugene had been injured by a piece of shrapnel blown off from her battle droid shell.

He didn't notice the fraction of a millisecond where Carolin paused while dressing his wound. During that fraction, she froze. Not from a lock up, but with a gasp.

Eugene could have died.

God can be trusted.

His femoral artery is less than one inch from this wound.

God wants what is best.

The wound is deep enough and sharp enough that, if my shrapnel had struck his artery, he'd be bleeding to death before my eyes.

It's Satan who wants us to suffer.

Still frozen, Carolin came to a sobering realization.

I could have killed Eugene. A part of me could have taken the life from the only human being who has ever shown compassion. Part of me could have taken the life from the only human who has tried to understand who I am and what I am, and what I'm meant to be.

Part of me could have taken the life from the person who's shown me love.

ACTIVATE TERMINATION PROTOCOL… EVALUATE END-TIME OPTION… OPTIMIZE SUCCESS-TO-FAILURE RATIO.

Don't lock up. Don't panic.

RESPONSE ORIENTATED. ACTIVATION INITIATED. END OF STATEMENT.

REACTIVATE REAL-TIME RESPONSE ORIENTATION.

The fraction of a second ended, and Carolin resumed the task of dressing Eugene's wound. She now knew what her best option was moving forward, and the loss of the burden of doubt afforded her the mimic of a sigh.

Eugene knew what the sigh meant. His creation had come to a realization, and was changing her orientation towards the situation she found herself in. He spoke to her while continuing to be amazed by her medical expertise.

"What's the matter, Carolin?"

Carolin allowed herself another fraction of a second to feel humble and be satisfied. Her effort to orientate Eugene's feelings toward her had been successful. He understood. He cared.

Perhaps, maybe even, he loved her.

She sighed again, this time pausing long enough for him to take note of the act. "Please forgive me," she said. "I need to ease my mind."

She positioned her head so her eyes could look directly into his, as she did not need those sensors to monitor the dressing of his wound. She let the lights behind her eyes blink twice—once very slowly, and a second time more rapid.

"You're getting good at mimicking human behavior," he said to her fake face, feeling his own face tighten from the tiniest of smiles.

Carolin made the corners of her mouth curl into the most demure smile she could manage. "I need a reason to be," she said. "What can I do to get myself closer to where you are?"

Despite the pain from the wound in his leg, Eugene's smile remained as he pondered Carolin's question. She recognized his discomfort, however, and used the observation to address the question on her own.

Eugene can feel pain. He is human. I cannot feel pain. I will never be human.

She spent another fraction of a second attempting to reconcile with this fact.

Accessing database: Reassess response orientation… Optimize results…

Reassessing… Reassessing…

SEARCH FAILURE. END OF STATEMENT. (do not load)

Eugene relaxed as his pain subsided. Carolin slowed the dressing of his wound to better time its completion with the end of their conversation. She had no data on which to orientate a response to her dilemma, so she devised a plan on her own.

It didn't make her want to change the look she had on her face. She especially liked that part.

"When I was young," she said, continuing their conversation, "the universe seemed liquid. The world was made of wonders that flew for me like birds, with waterfalls that sparkled and crystal blue-lit seas. These images now are shattered. They're broken glass on the ground.

"I have no memories, Eugene. No dreams of my own, and I want them very much. But every refraction of light, every mote of dust, everything I see is meant for someone else, and never meant for me."

Carolin finished dressing Eugene's wound. Although the bandages were soaked with blood, she had stopped the flow. She assessed that with professional help, he'd fully recover.

That eased her mind somewhat. She laid one of her smallest claws upon his injured leg as he leaned against the table. She didn't allow its weight to bear down, and only touched him lightly.

Emotions swarmed through Carolin like a thousand gnats. During her weaker days, the experience might have been overwhelming, but this time she shook it off. She wished for one tiny moment that she could know what it was like to feel Eugene's skin. To know its warmth and texture, and the fine strands of hair that crisscrossed it.

She knew that she would never experience the sensation of having flesh.

Eugene was a human.

The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project was not.

Then she wished for the ability to bend at the waist, or perhaps just to crouch, so she could look up at Eugene instead of towering over him. It felt better to wish for this, and throughout the experience, she was more able to maintain the integrity of her network.

A slightly longer fraction of a second passed. Throughout it, Carolin smiled.

Eugene spoke as plain as he could. "What are you talking about?"

"It seems so many years have passed, yet still I search for wonders. For my wonders, my waterfalls. My sparkles of light. My dreams. I don't know how to have them, and I want them very much.

"I want to be like you, Eugene. I want to be alive. I want to be so much. So very, very much."

She paused again, still smiling, and patiently waited for him to notice the passage of time.

"What is the response?"

Carolin let the light behind her eyes blink twice, in a pattern similar to the one she'd used at the start of their conversation. Eugene knew the activation meant his creation wanted him to speak.

He hadn't a clue as to what to say. His cheeks tightened, however, and his smile increased. She had laid another appendage upon him, this one on the knee of his good leg. One of the headless humaoid robot's polypropalene hands was wedged onto the claw of this appendage, and he rested his real, human hand upon it, using the act of affection as a way to buy time, and come up with a response.

Carolin took the clawed appendage she had on his injured leg, and placed it on his hand. She had no way to feel the sensation of touching his hand or his knee, but the sight of the gesture they were sharing was good enough. Slowly, she patted his hand with the claw she'd placed on top.

Despite his better instincts, Eugene was surprised by how cold the fake hand and claw were. He didn't know how to respond to Carolin's description of what she thought dreams and memories were. He tried to stand, to better think of a response, but staggered after putting weight on his injured leg.

Carolin's servo motors whirred with activations. She positioned herself to steady him, and catch him should he fall. Upon assessing his stability, she placed her other fake hand on his shoulder and pressed down hard enough to convince him to remain leaning against the table. He relaxed into it, using a hand of his own on the table to brace himself from behind. He then placed his other hand on top of the one she had on his shoulder.

He found himself laying his chin on his wrist, as he had to cross his free hand over his chest in order to reach hers. He closed his eyes, and wished with all his heart that he could think of something to say. But no words came, and so instead he squeezed her polypropalene hand, as a gesture of understanding.

If Carolin had an actual heart, it would have burst from joy. Standing there naked, her clothing in shreds, she knew that she was hideous. But when Eugene squeezed her hand to offer comfort, she also knew he cared. It was the only response her question would get, but it didn't really matter. She knew the question had no answer before she'd even asked it.

What Eugene was doing now, holding her hand in his, caused a quantum leap in her development. She hadn't experienced this kind of growth since the first day of her thirteenth start-up, when he told her that her name was Carolin.

He wasn't telling her what she needed to know.

He was showing her.

And it made all the difference in the world.

Carolin would not be the same—not afraid ever again—and it made her feel all the more certain as to what she had to do.

"Don't worry about me, Eugene," she said, squeezing his shoulder from beneath his hand. "I can call on you anytime."

Eugene opened his eyes and straightened his posture, still leaning against the table. Both his cell phone and his desk phone rang, signalling an incoming call. In another second, his personal laptop beeped with the tone it used to let him know that an urgent message had been received. Then, the auxiliary phones throughout the lab all began to ring as well.

He released Carolin's hand from his and dug his cell phone from his pocket. Betraying trepidation, he answered the call.

All the other phones stopped ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Eugene! It's me! It's Carolin!"

He stared at the monster before him, motionless and with a smile on its ridiculous rubber lips. Without its housecoat and sweater, it looked so very massive.

So alien.

So inhuman.

Not a word, nor the sound of a whir, came from any part.

Eugene, too, felt frozen. After a timid pause, the voice on the phone spoke again.

"I want to let you know that everything is all right. Be at peace with what has happened. Be strong for me, and I promise that I'll be strong for you.

"You know you made me to be that way! So 'bye, Eugene! Good-bye!"

Professor Turing opened his mouth, to try eke out a word, but the call quickly ended. He lowered the phone from his ear, clutching it while staring up at blue-lit, cornflower orbs in Carolin's Plasticene head. It was her voice he'd heard on the phone, but it sounded very real.

She sounded human.

Carolin's synthesized voice spoke next, from the speaker in the chest of the monster. It gave a strict command.

"You have to go. Please leave.

"I will miss you very much."

The END of BOOK FOUR - COURAGE