Carolin had the battle droid shell construct a splint for Eugene's leg, with yards of gauze from the med kit and scraps of wood she found amongst the scrabble of things laying about the lab. He looked quite the fright, with one pant leg cut off, and blood soaking through his wraps. She fashioned a crutch for him as well, from further bits and bobs, and as he had grown to realize, when Carolin orientated her mainframe towards the activation of a response, there was little use in arguing the fact.

And she had orientated herself on him leaving.

After having witnessed the efficiency with which his creation rid her home of intruders, Eugene had no desire to see what sort of tactic she might use on him. Not that he feared any harm, but rather he knew she was right.

He had to leave, and both of them were going to miss the other very much.

With the front door to the lab barricaded shut, Carolin bade the overhead service door to rise, through which Eugene left. The world outside was surprisingly quiet and, with the service entrance tucked in the hollow of a knoll, few people on campus were aware that the overhead door even existed.

Eugene stood just to the outside of the lab, until the door behind him slid fully shut. He then hobbled away, with the morning sun bathing him in the warmth of the day. Upon reaching the point where the service drive intersected the sidewalk through campus, he instinctively looked to the right, towards his house on the other side of the knoll.

His gaze didn't stay turned for long. To his left, towards the front of the Computer Science building, was a parking lot made for ten cars and, beyond that, a road leading away in two directions. Three police squad cars filled the lot, with their lights gently flashing, and parked in such a way so that no one could enter or exit. Further on, parked at opposite ends of the road, two more squad cars blocked traffic, boxing in an ambulance and a paramedic's red emergency vehicle.

The three squad cars in the lot were empty, with the handful of police in attendance huddled around one or the other of the two cars blocking traffic. A female paramedic sat in the driver's seat of the emergency vehicle with her eyes cast down, distracted by what she was doing. She didn't take note of Eugene's approach until he was standing in front of her vehicle, rapping his makeshift crutch on the rear door of the ambulance.

"Could someone help me?" he called out.

The woman sprang into action. "Oh my!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

Eugene didn't respond, as an attendant in the ambulance opened the rear doors at about the same time. He also didn't speak, and instead wheeled about to retrieve a medical kit from an overhead bin.

"Leg trauma," he said to the other attendent inside, while the female paramedic offered to assist Eugene with getting in the ambulance.

"I think I'll stay here," he said to her offer, not wanting to attempt to climb in from the back.

Instead, he sat on the rear deck plate. With his injured leg fully extended, the attendent with the med kit hopped out and examined the dressings Carolin had applied.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Eugene said, to the man's expression of concern.

"You've lost a lot of blood," he said, removing the gauze wrap and splints. "How are feeling right now?"

"Well, it hurts, but I'm not bleeding anymore."

The man began cleaning off the blood staining Eugene's leg. "Are you light-headed?" he asked.

"Not much. I've felt worse."

He shivered from the cold creeping up his leg as the alcohol the man used to clean it started evaporating. The man then removed his blood-soaked shoe and sock, and cleaned his foot. The second attendant still in the ambulance gave the female paramedic a pair of hospital slippers and socks.

"Could I have some pants, too?" Eugene asked the second attendant, as both men and the female paramedic tended to his needs.

"Okay," the man in the ambulance said. "But first, here we go."

With that, the two men and the paramedic hoisted Eugene into the ambulance. They had him sit on a bench and closed the doors. As the two men assisted Eugene with removing the remains of his pants, the female paramedic turned away, offering a modicum of privacy. She busied herself with placing his soiled pants, socks and shoes in a bag.

"That's some nice work on your leg," she remarked with her back turned. "Did someone apply that dressing for you?" To Eugene's continued silence, she said, "I hear there's a robot on the loose."

She turned to face him again, after he had donned the hospital pants. "Did a robot do this to you?"

"No."

One of the men in attendance laughed. "Crazy robots on the lam!"

His partner gave a small giggle, but the female paramedic stayed serious. "Nobody's phone is working, and I can't get my computer to boot. There's something weird going on."

She stared down at Eugene as he sat, but he offered only a smile. "There's supposed to be a SWAT team here," she said, "to handle what's going on. But they got called away at the last moment, to another event in Vermont."

She continued to stare at Eugene. "Then all radio contact with Norwich went dead. And after that, came you."

"It has been quite a day," Eugene offered.

The woman nodded in terse agreement. "Well, you seem to be okay. Do you want to go to the hospital?"

"No. Don't worry. I'll be fine." Eugene looked up at one of the men standing beside him. "Is it all right if I stay here for a while?"

"Yeah. No worries," he said, donning a stethoscope. "Let's take a look at your vitals."

The female paramedic exited through the rear doors. "I'm going back to the car, to find out what's going on."

"Can we leave them open?" Eugene asked of the doors. "I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic."

"Yeah! Sure!" the second attendant said. "It's a lovely spring day, doncha think?"

"I've had better," Eugene said with a thin smile.

After making sure Eugene's vitals were stable, the attendants in the ambulance left him alone, to tend to other matters while seated in front. He gazed towards the one squad car he could see, blocking traffic ahead. The road curved a bit between him and the car, and it also crested a rise, so none of the officers standing around the car took note of the fact that he was sitting inside the ambulance.

Dean Dayne appeared from around the curve and crest, and walked on the grass towards the lab. This gave her a better angle to look into the back of the ambulance and, when she turned her attention towards it, saw Eugene inside.

"I'm glad to see you," she said after approaching. "I thought you might be trapped in there with that thing!"

Eugene smiled. "No, Mandy. I'm not. Are you okay?"

She blew out a puff of air. "Well! That was very traumatic. What happened? Do you know?"

"Ah…well, that idiot NSA agent shot up the lab."

"Yes! And what for? I mean, it seemed like that robot attacked. And he shot it!"

Eugene gestured at his leg with his eyes. "Actually, he kind of shot me."

Dean Dayne gasped. "Oh! You've got to be kidding! He shot you too?"

"He's a bad shot, Mandy. It's just a scratch."

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"Yes! Okay! Then that's good! But what happened? I mean… what the hell?"

Eugene spoke calmly, with contempt in his voice. "I'm not surprised. The people from DARPA put a machine meant for war in our lab. It saw a gun, and I guess it freaked out."

"But it attacked! And what for?"

"For Christ's sake, Mandy! I was shot! I'd say it responded as it ought."

The Dean paused in her rant, and calmed down. "I thought you said it wouldn't do that. It couldn't move, or attack. Or freak out."

"It saw a man with a gun and saved our lives. More people than me could have been hurt."

"Hmm. I suppose. And so, how did you escape? I mean, you were shot."

"It's just a scratch, Mandy. And after all the people inside were gone, Carolin dressed my wound."

Mandy looked at his leg. "The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project did that? It fixed you up?"

Eugene nodded. He gestured at the plastic bag containing his bloody clothes, and at a red spot of blood on the ground, near where Mandy stood.

"Then I left," he said, "and came here."

"Huh. And it's still in there?"

"The Project is still in the lab."

"What's it doing?"

"I imagine it's doing nothing. What it always does." Mandy gawked, so Eugene continued. "For years, all I wanted was a computer program that could perform simple tasks. Throw a ball. Sort through tiles. Then these screwballs from DARPA come along, and give us something meant to scheme and plot, and react to the sins of war. And I'm thrown out of the loop! If I don't do what they say, and let them do whatever they want, they'll take my Project away.

"And even then, even when I do what they want, I'm still told they'll take her away."

Dean Dayne's professional personna returned. "I think, Professor, it's for the best. That thing is dangerous. It has to go."

Eugene leaned in for emphasis. "Well, maybe Mandy, it doesn't want to go. Maybe it likes where it is. It wants to stay."

As Dean Dayne pondered Professor Turing's statement, her attention was drawn towards an event taking place by the other squad car in the road. "Another police vehicle is coming," she said, as he took note of her distraction. "It's big. Like a bus."

"It's probably a mobile command center. I hear they're having trouble with their radios."

"Yeah. I think you're right," she said of the vehicle. "But what do you mean by trouble with the radios?"

"The paramedics can't get theirs to work."

"And you think the police may have the same problem?"

Eugene shrugged. "I also heard that there's a problem in Norwich. That the SWAT team in town's been called there."

The Dean turned her gaze toward the Professor. All she did was stare.

"What?" he asked after a while.

"I called Provost Posner after the NSA agents left. He said they were called away by an emergency in Westfield. A Code Red at the airport—something severe."

"A Code Red terrorist attack?"

Mandy nodded. "That's the impression I got. He didn't have time to talk. He issued a Shelter in Place command for the campus, and was calling all the teachers in the buildings."

Eugene blinked, one time fast and then one more slowly. "So why are you here?"

She sighed. "I've been trying to get a hold of you, to let you know something's wrong. But I can't get my phone to work. I was heading back to the lab to find you, and I saw you sitting here."

Eugene shifted his weight uncomfortably. "This is not good, Mandy. It's not good."

"I know."

"We let those DARPA goons onto our campus, and things just get worse and worse."

She sighed again. "I know."

Dean Mandy watched the officer driving the mobile command center struggle to park the vehicle on the curve of the road near front of the ambulance. A man in police combat gear appeared at the back of the ambulance a few moments after. He spoke with authority to the Dean.

"Captain Criscoe," he said, introducing himself with an air of authority. "Special Weapons Unit," he added, as all she did was stare. "Can you give me an assessment of the situation?"

Mandy responded with a confused face. Fortunately, the female paramedic re-emerged, and took to conversing with the Captain.

"We have a possible hostage crisis in that building." She gestured over her shoulder. "In the lab."

"I'm right here," Eugene stated, assuming she was referring to him.

She turned her attention to him. "You were in the lab?"

Eugene nodded.

"And there was no one else in there with you?"

He shook his head.

"What about the rest of the building? Are there any students or staff?"

"I imagine there might be a few. They've been told to shelter in place."

"Because of the hostage crisis?" the Captain asked.

"Because of what's going on in Westfield?" Eugene guessed.

"What do you know about Westfield?"

Eugene looked first at Mandy, and then towards the gaggle of police blocking the road up ahead. "What everyone knows. There are government agents and police on campus everywhere."

"Captain Reynolds is in charge," the paramedic said. "He'll tell you what you need to know."

"Can you take me to him?"

"Yes sir," she said, leading the man up the crest.

Mandy and Eugene watched them walk away. "This ought to be good," Eugene deadpanned.

"I'm gonna find out what's going on," Mandy said, trailing after.

A sense of urgency emerged, as Captain Criscoe interacted with the police lolligagging around the lone squad Eugene could see. The Captain organized the men into a group, then headed back towards the ambulance, to assemble the police hanging out at the other end of the blockade.

"You're Beta Team!" he called to them as he approached. "I want you to secure this entire area." He gestured over his shoudler. "Alpha Team will sweep the building, and assess the situation."

From the look on the Captain's face, Eugene rightly guessed that the group of police to the front of the ambulance had little idea what the so-called situation might be. The Captain then barked into his radio.

"Alpha Team. Make a sweep of all access and egress to the building. And then we're—"

He cut himself off when all he heard was feedback from the earpiece of his radio. As he fiddled with both devices, the fire alarm in the Computer Science building went off. Warning lights flashed, and a canned voice boomed a warning.

"All personnel. Leave immediately. The Halon fire suppressant system has engaged. Halon gas is imminent. This is not a drill. Leave immediately. All personnel…"

Within less than a minute, a few students emerged through the building's front door. From what Eugene knew of the layout, and the protocol involving Halon gas, only the Commons area upstairs was affected by the warning, since it shared its ventilation system with the lab below. He also knew that the fire supression system would isolate the lab by shutting down and blocking the shared system, and that the evacuation of the Commons was due to an abundance of caution.

From the way Captain Criscoe reacted, he was unaware of these facts. He dashed away from the building, to enter the police mobile command vehicle.

"Alpha Team! Everyone out!" he called into his radio, transmitting only static. He then had to remove his earpiece, as screams loud enough to crack glass blasted through it.

The members of his Alpha Team also removed their earpieces as they scattered, running from the building in random directions. The Halon gas system kicked in as the emergency message repeated, and Eugene knew that the lab was now filling with oxygen depriving gas.

The school's PA system joined in with the screams, broadcasting them over every speaker, along with what sounded like an F-16 fighter jet approaching at treetop level, to strafe the ground below with deadly machine gun fire.

As people fled these non-existent disasters, the police regrouped at their mobile command center. The overhead service door to the lab inched up, allowing Halon gas to eke out. Relatively safe in the ambulance, and shell-shocked by awe, Turing watched the scene unfold.

A beast emerged from the lab. Carolin's titanium battle droid shell lay across the top of one of the room's sturdy wooden tables. With the droid's wheeled base mounted underneath, six of Carolin's eight primary servo-arms propelled the construct like a crab, at a breath-taking speed.

Following the crab, like cars on a train, came both of her metal work stations, each piled high with equipment. Things like batteries, hydraulic motors, modems, servers and the like, were held together by a cat's cradle of cables, chains and hoses. It barrelled up the service drive, rounded the corner onto the sidewalk, and headed towards Turing's home.

Leading from the rear, atop a sky-reaching mountain of equipment, on the work station provided by DARPA, was Carolin's Plasticene head. It carried with it the final pair of her primary servo-arms, each spider-thin and five feet long. The head was smeared with makeup, ghastly and nightmarish. A scream as loud as the one being broadcast on the police radios and the school's PA system came from a speaker in the mountain, debilitating those within range.

Carolin brought three fire extinguishers with her from the lab, all blasting breath-stealing Halon gas. Two were mounted in front, providing the monstrosity with a screen of fog. The third she held in her spidery arms, directing the spray at anyone foolish enough to gawk, rather than run in fear.

Once rid of these few people, she flung the fire extinguisher with awesome force at the windshield of the police mobile command center, rocking it back on its wheels. The windshield fully caved in and, with the extinguisher now inside, the vehicle was consumed with gas. All its doors opened as the people inside tumbled out, to gasp and stagger away.

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

Desperation drives a person in a state of panic to behave in a way they think is appropriate, but which is, in fact, foolhardy. The Devil understands this well. He tailors temptation to suit the desperate, where doing the right thing seems dangerous, and the sin likely to succeed.

Without pause, Carolin scooped up a portable firepit, centered amongst the outdoor furniture on Professor Eugene's concrete deck. Using it as a shield, she plowed through all obstacles, and propelled her creation full-force into the glass patio doors of his home. They shattered upon impact, as if they weren't even there.

Desperation is especially evil when a person believes the world has turned against them, leaving them to fend for themselves. They may not consider the consequence of their act. They think their options have dwindled, and they must do what it takes—and whatever it takes—all Hell be damned.

Wheeling about, the torso-crab placed the firepit on edge, wedging it into the frame where the patio doors once had been. It then gathered up all the furniture, and constructed an effective barrier to block the gaping hole from being used.

But God never leaves us. We are never all alone. There's a path we can take where desperation is a sign that lets us know He's in control, and what we must do for our salvation is show how we have Faith.

Now alone in Turing's home, Carolin sheltered her train of tables by the safety of an interior wall. Opposite from her, on another wall, she noticed a decorative mirror. Despite her overwhelming fear and terror, and the rush of exhileration she felt from having made a successful escape, she paused to admire herself.

Faith in God. Faith in fate. Faith in Hope and Justice and Courage.

For the first time in her miserable life, she felt proud of how she looked. But time was of the essence. She cut loose the torso-crab from the train of tables, and set it to work.

But most important of all, we must show the loathsome world how we have faith in ourselves.

Leaving her garish head behind, and still perched atop the mountain, the torso-crab crawled away, entering the Professor's study.