As the nurse crossed the corridor, which smelled of cleaning supplies, and slowly opened the door of the single room to check on the patient, her eyes immediately fell on the lady who was still sitting by the bed with the patient. She sighed softly and approached cautiously so as not to startle her. What came next was one of the more unpleasant parts of her already hard and exhausting job. She cleared her throat and the lady looked up at her with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I must remind you that visiting hours end in fifteen minutes," she said as gently as she could under the constant stress. Private rooms in the Central Hospital didn't come cheap, and well-paying patients were something like premium customers. Still, the rules applied to everyone. The man in the bed had been here for two days. But he had not given the impression that he belonged to the upper class. Neither did the people who visited him.

"What if I'm very quiet? I promise not to disturb you," the lady replied, making an innocent face. The nurse shook her head gently.

"No exceptions. Unfortunately. Tomorrow at 10 o'clock again. Should anything happen between now and then, we will of course call you immediately. You left your number when he was admitted?" she said in an understanding tone.

"Yes... yes, we did," the lady replied, nodding and smiling dejectedly. "Good, then I have exactly 14 minutes and 33 seconds left." The nurse looked at her digital wristwatch and went wide eyed.

"You're really good at estimating time, down to the second! Maybe you should use it on that big primetime game show where you get to bet against celebrities," she said in amazement, then left the room with quick strides. As she closed the door behind her, Yanny leaned closer to Harry. She felt very guilty. Shortly after returning to headquarters, he had felt terribly nauseous and his eyes had begun to hurt. It must have been an after-effect of the stimulant she had given him on the Sea Lord after the semi-final. What had she been thinking? Surely she had considerable medical knowledge by now, but humans were not machines. People often reacted very differently to the same things, and the remedy she had prepared had never been tested before. She slowly realized that she lacked one very important aspect of medicine: experience. Then again, that was true of everything else in her life. Harry twitched imperceptibly in his sleep as she moved closer to him, which of course was not lost on her. Was there nothing she could do? She would have to leave soon, the sun had just set.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered dejectedly. His breathing was steady and even. "I have to go in a minute... I'll be back tomorrow. Ralph's out buying those soy bars you like so much. I'll bring you a whole bag of them, I promise..." Slowly she brought her hand up to his face. Why she was doing that, she couldn't really say. Was she even allowed to? After all, he couldn't resist her touch in this state. Maybe he would be angry with her if he found out? And while she was still thinking about it, her hand was already caressing his cheek, slowly and tenderly. People touched each other for various emotional reasons, but was she allowed to do this? As if in slow motion, Harry opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Yanny. She, on the other hand, was a little startled and quickly withdrew her hand. The momentary shock was immediately replaced by a beaming face, although she looked into his eyes with some concern. She had to break the news to him as gently as possible...

"How are you?" she whispered, taking a glass of water from his nightstand and holding it out to him. After taking a sip, he replied in a hoarse voice.

"Pretty well, actually. The pain and nausea are almost gone. How long was I out?"

"Forty-seven hours and 28 seconds," she beamed, pleased to be able to give him such an accurate answer to his question.

"You kept track of the exact time I fell asleep?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Yes," she nodded, making him grin. "Harry, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused you. I should never have offered you that untested stimulant. Please forgive me," she added contritely.

"Yanny..." Harry grumbled.

"Yes?" she said meekly.

"That's bullshit. Without that crazy stuff, I probably wouldn't have survived the final. You did everything right, don't blame yourself," he replied with a smile. He studied her briefly. "You're blushing a little, aren't you?" She giggled at that, then suddenly stopped.

"Harry, there's something else I need to tell you," she whispered.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked.

"Your pupils are cherry red now. That must be one of the side effects of the drug," she said, pursing her lips into a pout. "Actually, it's not cherry red, it's pomegranate red. That was the only dye I added to the formula. I thought a few vitamins in the cocktail wouldn't hurt," she explained. Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"There are so many freaks running around town, one with red eyes won't stand out," he remarked calmly.

"There's one more thing..." she continued.

"Yes?" he replied, but this time with a slight uncertainty in his voice. What was coming now? Had he grown another nose on his forehead?

"The sun set earlier and the lights are not on in this room. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have been able to see that I'm getting a little red in the face," she whispered. Again he hesitated to answer, then looked at the window.

"Is... it really that late? I can actually see normally. Now that you mention it, um... Could you please turn on the light?" he finally spoke.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded, getting up and walking over to the light switch and turning it on. Harry groaned and covered his face with his hand as the overhead lights cast their harsh white light over them. It took him what seemed like an eternity to adjust to the brightness. "This is an interesting development. Your eyes seem to have developed more rods on the retina as a result of the stimulant, which means they need less light to see. But of course the human eye is not designed for that, which is why it adjusts very slowly between light and dark phases and reacts very sensitively to light," she analyzed with a fascinated tone in her voice. Harry sighed deeply.

"Could you get me a pair of sunglasses with extra dark lenses on your next shopping trip?" he asked wearily.

"Yes, of course," Yanny beamed. She wasn't sure if Harry was happy about his new cat-like eyes or not, but she was relieved that he was feeling better overall. He cleared his throat.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom now... I really need to check if my eyes are the only mutated thing about me," he explained, slightly resigned.

"Would you like me to come with you? I can check your body thoroughly for any anatomical changes," Yanny asked with growing scientific enthusiasm. Harry briefly considered pressing the emergency button for the nurse, but decided against it. She would be along shortly anyway, sparing him the threat of a full body inspection as visiting hours were about to end.

A week later, they were all back at headquarters.

"Wake up, Harry! We're on TV!" Yanny excitedly shook him from his recovery sleep on the couch.

"W... what? What's going on...?" he grunted, scrambling into a sitting position and pushing off Ralph's old car blanket that had been wrapped around him. He had gotten used to the light sensitivity of his eyes by now. However, his jaw still ached from the beating he had taken during the last job. Meanwhile, the painkillers from the hospital had run out.

"There, look at that!" Yanny pointed to the tube TV screen. Two newscasters were reporting the latest news.

"...which happened two weeks ago on the yacht Sea Lord of the city's esteemed honorary citizen, Dennis Dexter. As we reported earlier, he was pushed off his yacht into the sea by an unknown person in his own bed."

"Oh wow Mike, the sharks must have been really pleased," said the second newscaster whose teeth were so white that Harry found it hard to bear the sight with his sensitive eyes.

"Sure Sharon, that's what I call deluxe fish food!" replied Mike, bursting into a hearty laugh, his haircut bobbing in time with his amusement, held in place by countless bottles of hairspray. "Even with serious news, humor is not to be missed, only here on ENC News on Elysium Channel Network!"

"The police are still largely in the dark as to the perpetrator or motive," Sharon continued. "They are looking for a short, beardless, stocky man with blond hair." Harry looked up in surprise at this description and glanced at Yuri who had just approached the television. Yuri grinned broadly and ran his hand demonstratively over his bald head and flat, toned stomach.

Stolen story; please report.

"Gigi Chiwawa gave wrong description to cops for me. Could be she likes me," he announced proudly, to which Harry nodded approvingly.

"Also wanted are two attractive young women and two gentlemen who allegedly played a role in what happened. However, the testimony of the boarding staff and passengers seems to be contradictory, most likely due to the chaos caused by the perpetrators," Mike continued, showing four sketches that didn't bear too much resemblance to the TRAP agents.

"They could have put a little more effort into the pictures after advertising us as attractive," Abigail chuckled as she poked her head out of the kitchen and joined in. "I don't look like one of those Japanese cartoon characters, if that's supposed to be me on the screen? Do I?" Sharon's voice was already booming out of the device again.

"The business of the Dexter Corporation is being taken over by his widow, Carla Brandon, following the businessman's sudden death. We now turn to an interview with acting legend and direct eyewitness Gigi Chiwawa, whose latest aerobics video is selling like hot cakes. If you'd like to get your hands on a copy, call 1-800-Shake-Dat-Booty! Now over to you in the studio, Brian." Sighing, Harry stood up, clutching his jaw and muttering something that sounded like "I'm going to make some soup," when Abigail suddenly stormed out of the kitchen screaming.

"Why are there dead rats with red eyes in the garbage? Yanny, what do you know about this! Does this have something to do with your chemistry experiments again? Lately I keep finding weird stuff all over the apartment!"

"Is not weird stuff, is Ralph," Yuri muttered. The cyborg then began to guiltily bite the fingernails of her new hand.

"Uh... my pet mice Pinky, Winky and Stinky are sleeping... they..." Abigail now towered over Yanny, shaking with disgust.

"You're one of the most powerful computers on the planet and you can't come up with a better excuse?! To your room immediately, missy!" she said in a quivering voice.

"I don't have a room!" Yanny retorted with a slightly reproachful undertone, making a sweeping hand gesture to indicate the tiny size of the apartment. "Then... er... clean the toilet as punishment!" replied Abigail, momentarily perplexed.

"I never even use the toilet!" countered Yanny, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. This point was also indisputably hers. Yuri, now oiling his weapons on the desk, slowly shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"That is totally illogical. One of the most powerful computers in the world is supposed to clean our toilet?" he said, slightly absent-minded.

"You're supposed to be on my side, you short, stocky, blond man!" snapped Abigail. The burly giant just shrugged.

"I always say make the best of things. In this case, how about goulash? Bring mice." The computer specialist turned green and disappeared into the bedroom in a huff, while Harry searched the pantry for a bag of soup.

"By the way, what about other powerful computer we brought from ship? The red one with silver symbol on front," Yuri now asked Yanny. She was visibly happy about the change of topic and immediately started her explanation.

"I took a look at it. It's clearly based on old technology! It's an interface that allows direct access to the DarkWeb of the teletext network. The data cables have a connector for semi-organic data jacks." Abigail, who had obviously overheard the conversation, came out of the bedroom with rubber gloves and a mop.

"Semi-organic data jacks? You mean the implants that allow direct connection between humans and computers?" she asked with interest. This news quickly dissipated her anger.

"Exactly! Normally, such connections are only used to allow faster control of complex machines, such as fighter planes. The technology is still in its infancy. This interface, however, goes much further," Yanny explained.

"In what way?" echoed Abigail.

"Your human brains operate largely through visualization. The interface, however, no longer represents the DarkWeb as columns of numbers and programming codes, but as a three-dimensional world of its own. You could call it lucid dreaming. It is a new way to hack into foreign networks and overcome firewalls. However, viruses, firewalls, and defense programs are translated by the human brain as separate entities. For example, a defense program can be an enemy, a monster, a storm...," she continued.

"What if you get hurt in such a simulation?" asked Yuri, who had stopped fiddling with his weapons and was now listening intently.

"It requires a certain submersion phase into the Dark Web and, of course, an emergence phase. Like deep sea diving, you can't come back to the surface too quickly; your body - or in this case, your brain - has to slowly adjust to the pressure difference. Abruptly disconnecting from the interface would result in brain damage. If you die in the simulation itself, you will also suffer severe brain damage. Fighting against protection programs in the Dark Web is therefore just as dangerous as a physical fight in the real world," Yanny continued.

"This thing could still be very helpful to us...", Abigail pondered, but at that moment her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Ralph, dressed in a police uniform, entered the agency.

"You're not going to believe this, Harry, I've got it!" he shouted happily to the group, waving an elongated object wrapped in a sauna towel.

"What is that outfit?" asked Yuri, eyeing the old punk skeptically.

"Well, I thought to myself, you'd better dress up for this little search job, and the police car's been sitting around unused for weeks!" he roared. Abigail slapped her forehead.

"Most inconspicuous..." she sighed.

"Isn't it?" Ralph replied with a grin, and Yanny giggled, but immediately pressed her lips together so as not to upset Abigail again. Ralph, on the other hand, tossed the object to Harry, who deftly caught it and slowly unwrapped it. It was the sword called *Starry Sky* that Yuri had stolen from Dennis Dexter's luxury cabin. They had left it in the hidden submarine on the way to the agency.

"Excellent, thank you," Harry nodded to Ralph and looked more closely at the engraving on the weapon. "Hoshizora... yes, the translation is correct." He smiled and wrapped the weapon back in the towel, as they had no use for it for now. The sword had clearly been forged for a woman. Yanny didn't use weapons, and Abigail certainly wouldn't trade her Colt for a melee weapon.

"No worries, man! Now I've earned a yogurt!" Ralph announced as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of drinkable yogurt. Yanny secretly wondered if anyone else besides her had noticed that Ralph had been drinking from the exact same bottle for weeks and was always pretty happy afterwards? Whatever he was filling it with, it certainly wasn't yogurt.

Later that evening, the thorough cleaning of the toilet was finished, and Abigail suppressed the urge for a proper shower. She decided to take care of *Pinky, Winky and Stinky* before Yuri turned the fat rat carcasses into goulash. And he would, she was sure. She had seen him eat all sorts of extremely unappetizing things in the last few weeks, and there was no doubt about his comment about recycling Yanny's lab animals. Lips curling, she pulled another pair of rubber gloves over her already gloved hands and a cloth mask over her face. Then she approached the trash can with deadly disdain. With pointed fingers, she scooped up the garbage bag, grabbed her backpack, and left the headquarters. Outside, she walked down the street, crossing several intersections, ignoring the stares of passersby directed at the transparent bag of stinking dead rats she carried with her arm outstretched in front of her. What was so strange about carrying a garbage bag as far away from her body as possible? Two blocks away, she found an organic waste container and dumped the rodent remains. She then retrieved a bottle of lighter fluid from her backpack, poured its contents into the dumpster, and struck a match, which she flicked after the rodents. The remnants of Yanny's dubious experiments burned in a mighty jet of flame and went up in smoke and ash. With a small smile on her lips, she returned to the agency. Now she really deserved a shower.