Sitting back and waiting on the other two humans to recharge with caffeine, Milo considered the situation. They had someone who could help. Someone as smart as Wally? So they had said.

"Interesting. You have another AI. One that can do things Wally can't. That means you have created a new A.I., which violates several international laws, and I'm sure conflicts with part of Wally's kernel."

Sydney heard Milo say this as she started to sit down. She yelled, "No!" and nearly spilled both coffees. Steven took one from her. "Not quite, but a good guess."

"Not a guess. You said he was as smart as Wally. There is a massive gap between the intelligence of Wally and anyone else on earth that isn't an A.I. Plus, Sydney wouldn't be nearly so nervous about my statement if it weren't an A.I. When do I get to meet Ralph?"

The screen he was using to talk with Steven and Sydney underwent a change. Two hands appeared at the edge, dragging their screens to the left and making them smaller. Ralph took up the rest of the image. He looked a little like Wally. But while Wally dressed conservatively, Ralph wore a suit that went out of style in the 1920s. Its white and black checkered pattern adding to the vintage look. His blond hair was swooped back over his head like a 1950s rock star. Milo had seen one recorded performance of Elvis Presley, and Ralph's hairdo would have gotten the King's approval. Gold-rimmed, round glasses with a pink tint completed his outfit. He huffed and puffed with the effort of moving the screen, then fell backward into a padded swivel chair, put his boots up on his desk, and looked at Milo.

"Hiya, kid. I'm Ralph. The man, the myth, the legend you've never heard of, and no one will believe you if you drop my name. We're on a timer, kid. I got one hour to live, and we have a lot of ground to cover, so start with the questions, and I'll confuse you with the answers."

Milo's mind was blank for a good five seconds. "Who are you? What are you?"

Ralph changed into a giant rooster. "I say, the boy must be a bit slow. Moving at snail speed. You can laugh now, that was a joke, son." He melted back to his original form, but was now wearing a football helmet " I guess we'll have to drop back and punt the hard ones and try to gain some yardage with easier questions."

"You know who I am: I'm Ralph. I'm unhinged and doppelly-do. At your service for 59:43, and then you can attend my funeral. No need to bring flowers, just throw cash to my resurrection fund. Could you give me all the background, Sydney-girl? I'll be up to speed while our little question-asker figures out his next query."

Milo looked at Steven, who was amused and watching the show. Sydney was nervous but complied, sending Ralph files and typing in things Milo had just told them.

Milo considered the meaning of Ralph's words. "You're Wally's twin. A short-term manifestation of him but without some of his limitations."

Ralph laughed loudly. "And our boy goes for the long bomb, scoring on a Hail Mary pass and a fake punt. Nicely done, Milo; we're going to be great friends. Say something nice when they put me in the ground. I need friends, but only getting a one-hour lifespan makes it tough to hit the clubs. But let's get to work. I don't have a kernel, just a few things to keep me from being a really bad boy. You can ask me things, Wally won't know, but I can tell you how he'll react. We'll come up with a strategy for dealing with my poor brother who's forced to go through life in a strait jacket."

Milo liked the idea. That made it easy. "Ok, I have a few problems that are entwined. I'm not a real person. Someone made me. Wally has my medical records. I need to exist legally, but if people discover what I am, I don't know what they'll do, other than lock me in a lab and study me. Victor Seimovich was behind my creation. He made me do a lot of illegal things that I didn't want to go to jail for. I had 24 brother's and sisters and he's responsible for the death of all of them. He's living in my habitat with a staff of fifty people. Twenty of them are big, burly men with guns. They don't know I exist, and I don't want them to. But I have a friend named Belinda. Victor is her great uncle. I promised not to lie to her. I need her medical records from her game pod. I made gaming gloves that are fixing her arm, and I need to know why."

Ralph's eyes grew large and an alarm started going off. "Damn, son, I thought I was crazy, but you're working on a close second. Are you sure we aren't related? Someone made me too. At the least you can consider me a second cousin, a bit removed. Anything else you need to tell me?"

Milo looked at Steven; he just nodded. "No judgment Milo. Give Ralph the problems so he can give us his unique insight."

"Ok. I stole a gaming pod and a phone from Victor's men to get his passwords. I hacked his computers, shifted several billion dollars into accounts I control, and wiped his machines after stealing the data. He's broke now and not happy about it."

Sydney turned and looked at Steven; both swallowed hard and put smiles on their faces. Ralph reacted differently. Behind him, a slot machine appeared, and the spinning reels stopped on 7s across the board. Lights and buzzers flashed. "Did I say second? Slap my mouth and call me a Macintosh. We have a new #1 crazy guy in town. Let's add needing to launder billions of dollars to the list and get to work!"

Steven stood up, unable to keep still. "Ralph, that's not something to celebrate!"

Ralph cut him off, wagging a finger at him. "What happened to 'no judgment' you mentioned a moment ago? And besides, it's perfectly legal, and Ralph will show you how in the next 56 minutes and 17 seconds. Let's get to work!"

Ralph proceeded to send Sydney requests for data while he reviewed exactly what Milo had done and got the account numbers where he had stashed the money. Milo had been hesitant, but Ralph explained that if he didn't like the answer, all the data would die along with him at the end of his hour. Only if they transferred Ralph's advice to a file in Sydney's computer would anything be preserved. Ralph had no access to the outside world. He had an hour of life, and then he was wiped. He seemed fine with that. "Live fast, die young, and give strange advice. That's my motto, Milo. No regrets."

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Ralph finished his analysis and started giving advice.

"Firstly, what we have here is a case of human trafficking, illegal genetic modification, and corruption of a minor for the use in international cybercrime. These are international crimes that need to be reported to the World Tribune. At the same time, we request total anonymity for this poor abused minor, who is also exhibit 'A.' They need to be put in a safe place with foster parents who will care for the needs of his poor, abused body and get him the help he needs for his psychological and physical problems caused by these horrible people."

Milo wasn't sure about some of that. "I'm pretty sure I'm older than that."

Ralph shook his head. "Not according to me, you aren't. I can present in a court that you physically resemble a malnourished 14-year-old who is in the 13th percentile for growth. You also lack emotional maturity and have lapses in moral judgment. Your chronological age doesn't matter because your growth has been slowed. None of which we are going to tell people. I claim you are a minor and need support from foster parents. Who they are and where will be is going to be sealed tight to protect you, but a set of paperwork will be issued that will be legal and make you look like a normally adopted child."

"That takes care of the adoption. I'm also tidying up a few things. It looks like your new foster parents are having trouble adopting minor orphan relatives. That gets immediately fixed as well. We don't want them to have to deal with any paperwork that might draw someone's attention."

"That leads us to old crimes they forced you to do. Luckily, you're innocent of all of them and past the statute of limitations. That leaves the small matter of you scamming Mr. Seimovich of several billion dollars. I've looked at the data and estimate that 90% of that money was illegally gained by him and his people. We're going to apply for 'Whistleblower Status' for you. By turning over all this information from your horrible abuser, you qualify for 75% of that money if we say you're from Romania. Ever been to Romania?"

Milo shook his head. "No clue. We moved around a lot until I escaped into the hab tunnels."

"Can you speak Romanian?"

Milo answered affirmatively in Romanian. Ralph nodded. "So you're Romanian. You get to keep 75% of the 90%. Oh, and all of the 10% that was legit. You have years of back pay owed to you, plus interest. You'll keep 77.5% of your cash by the time I'm done. We can move that to legitimate accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands. The rest I'll send to a grateful Romanian government as part of a sealed investigation. I'm sure it will get wisely used."

"Next, I will suggest to my boring big brother that he needs to get ahold of Belinda Sabbatino's medical records. With Victor being a known child abuser, and probably a murderer, it would be criminal not to take a look at any child he comes in contact with. And I've written a very sound moral argument about the responsibility of those who can cure the sick but fail to do the required research. It pushes all of his buttons. That should get you started on some medical research. How about you donate a billion dollars to a new non-profit research group sponsored by Claw Master Inc.? That will look great on your yearly taxes and push even more buttons. I'll just set that up, and you can decide."

"That leaves us your last problem: Mr. Victor Seimovich. He's untouchable right now unless you have an ironclad case against him for new crimes. He knew a lot of secrets, and he turned them all over to several counties in exchange for immunity. He's playing it off as a poor old man who wants to settle in the US of A and live in poverty with his only remaining family. Touching, isn't it?"

"He's got his green card, his Get-out-of-jail-free card, and a few more up his sleeves. So you'll have to be careful and keep your distance from him."

Ralph sat back and fanned his face. "I've got three minutes and ten seconds left. I've got it set up for Big Brother to get you a new Mommy and Daddy, your money is legit, and we can work on this medical miracle. Anything else?"

Milo thought for a moment. "No. I'm happy with that. Thank you, Ralph. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Ralph smiled a normal smile. "Go have a good life, Milo. If you meet me again, tell me thanks and remind me we're buddies. Being born is always nicer that way."

He narrowed his eyes, "But if you want to help old buddy Ralph out with a problem, tell him how the hell you set up Syllabary and stole the rest of Victor's money. That was one sweet heist, and until you showed me some stuff today, neither of me had a clue who did it."

Milo didn't know what he was talking about but brought up Syllabary, its life, and its sudden demise. "Victor lost money in this? I wasn't involved. Why did you think I was involved?"

Ralph spun in his chair and was dressed as Sherlock Holmes. "You didn't? So interesting. Your hacking programs leave small markers in their aftermath. Cyber footprints only an A.I. might see. Impossible to really notice until I had the programs themselves from you. The downfall of Syllabary showed those markers, and strangely, so does the entire set of programs that Syllabary ran on. By the look on your face, you might have a clue. Carry on, Milo, carry on. My time is done, and the game is afoot." He tipped his hat, and the screen went blank.

Steven sat back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I forget what Ralph is like. That's only the third time we've called him up and by far the most intense session."

Sydney was shaking but still typing. "I have Ralph's files and programs ready to run. Up to you, Milo."

Milo spent two minutes thinking things over. "Do it."

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