Nigel awoke to the sounds of the city. Although it was the middle of the night, New York never slept; there was always someone awake. As he tried to regain sleep, an errant thought invaded his mind.

What is Dr. Brody’s true motivation? Does he want to help Treeka and her sister, or himself?

Nigel got out of bed and gazed out at lights of Times Square; the vibrant lights lit up the surrounding streets as if it were day.

If I can’t sleep, I should get that connector made for Treeka’s neural interface.

Nigel found a maker lab—called Maker Station—about eight blocks away. He confirmed it was open twenty-four hours as he got dressed. Jet was still sleeping, and he looked at her.

How did I get so lucky?

He left Jet a note, grabbed his jacket, then left to brave the cold early morning air.

Thirty minutes later, he arrived at Maker Station. There were several people working at various stations.

More people than I expected at this hour.

A gigantic clock made from electronic circuits and other computer parts was hanging over a reception desk.

It’s past three a.m. I don’t think it will take long to make the connector. With any luck, I will be back in bed with Jet before dawn.

A woman a few years older than Nigel sat behind a reception desk reading a small magazine called Dark Encounters. As she raised her head to get a better look at Nigel, she smiled.

“What can I help you with?” she asked. Then she put an index finger on her lips and licked it.

“I need to use the lab,” Nigel said.

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The girl turned the page of her magazine before resting it on the counter. Something was off about the woman. If her braided black hair, black lipstick, and fingernails weren’t enough, she had several piercings.

“It’s fifty an hour for full use of the lab plus materials. I need the first hour upfront in cash,” she said.

Nigel handed it over. “Can I get a receipt?”

The woman shoved the cash in an area behind the counter.

“Follow me.”

I guess I can get that receipt later.

Moments later, Nigel was seated at a workstation. He let the woman show the machine’s use, then reviewed his schematic.

He entered the exact specifications of the connector’s outer plastic shell. As soon as he pressed the “execute” button, he watched the machine inject some blue material into some kind of mold. The machine shook as it made the part.

As the machine continued to work, he gathered the remaining parts he needed:

A surface mount resistor with a resistance range of one kilo ohm.

Rosen core solder

Variable range soldering iron (12- to 18-watt range)

Micro PCB

I forgot the nanowire FET specs. They are on my laptop. But I’ve studied the spec enough. I think I can figure it out.

Nigel made an educated guess on the specification for the proper nanowire FET. He needed something with an appropriate drain rating. He wanted to avoid a rapid decay if possible. He decided on a circuit with an exponential decay because it allowed for the decrease of electrical signal at a proportional rate, which meant electrical energy for Treeka’s neural interface wouldn’t fry the circuit attached to her cranial interface, which would be disastrous.

It took Nigel longer than expected, but he put everything together. His phone chirped. It was a text from Jet.

Hey, Nige, where are you?

He looked out a nearby window. The streets were lighting up.

The sun is rising, Nigel thought before texting back.

I’m at the maker lab, didn’t you get my note?

Nigel watched the blinking dots showing Jet was replying.

Oh, I see it now. You should have texted me instead, lol, she wrote.

I’ll be back soon, Nigel answered.

He gathered his newly created cyborg connector, cleaned his workstation, and then provided a materials list to the woman at the desk.

“An additional $37.50, please—for the extra thirty minutes on the machine, plus $12.50 in materials,” the woman said.

Nigel paid, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” the woman said.

Nigel turned to see her with a thin paper in hand. Nigel took the paper.

“If you can figure out how to create a better sex toy, let me know.”

What did she just say?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that last part,” Nigel said.

“I said have a nice day. I work the night shift. Come back anytime,” she answered, smiling.