For the first few days, Karr observed the children move, re-arrange and record each piece of his old shell. He told them what each was, where it went inside a vehicle and what it did. Micky already knew a lot about the general parts and how to handle them, but some of the more advanced technologies, like the alpha circuit or the anamorphic scanner, had to be carefully explained to him by Karr. The AI was not used to speaking so much, but he knew his involvement in the project was a necessity and his attention would not be diverted away.

“Ugh! What is this?” Bridget suddenly exclaimed. She was holding up a greasy and rusted pipe.

“That would be an exhaust pipe,” Micky replied, almost completely bent over inside the Mustang’s engine area. He did not bother to look up from the transfer vehicle.

“Man, I got grease all over my pants from it!”

Karr growled. “If you’re just going to whine, go home alone.” The idea of going back to that horrid bedroom himself was out of the question now. He did not like Micky’s garage, but it was a nice change of scenery after seven years of the same four walls.

Shaking her head, Bridget replied, “I am not whining. I’m complaining. There’s a difference.”

“Well, you do it too often. Stop talking,” he ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“Just. Stop.”

Bridget stared at Karr, mouth agog at his cold and shunning remark, and Micky took his opportunity to look up.

“Just who made you, Karr?” the boy asked. He and Bridget had exchanged hypothesizes about that topic on various occasions, but never had bothered to ask Karr himself. Now seemed like a good time.

An icy silence fell over the room as soon as Micky’s words sunk in. Karr did not speak and Bridget could tell from natural instinct that the AI was glaring at them with his worst, most potent glare. A shiver ran up her spine. Looking over, she and Micky exchanged wary glances.

“Karr?” ventured Micky.

In a sudden abruptness, Karr snapped, “That doesn’t concern you.” He sounded angry, and, to Bridget’s astonishment, slightly on edge. His usual collective calmness was gone. It was unsettling.

Micky frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said, honesty in his voice. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Then stop asking pointless questions and focus on working,” Karr snarled.

“Someone’s cranky,” Bridget commented, frowning.

Karr said nothing back. Her frown deepening, Bridget set down the pipe in the junk pile and walked over to him. She bent her knees so that she came face to face with the AI. She did this often when she wanted to talk about serious matters—whenever they happened. Karr did not like it when she did. Her eyes were much too intense for his liking and it made him feel uncomfortable while under her gaze.

“What?” he demanded angrily. He inched away internally in his CPU.

“Are you okay?” she asked simply.

She asked in a quiet voice, knowing full well that Karr did not like concern thrown his way in front of others. Micky worked on without looking up at them, though Karr was not sure if he was listening or not. The boy seemed to respect his space well enough, but this was not an opportune moment to have conversation with Bridget when she was in her “concerned” mode.

“I am functional,” Karr replied neutrally.

“Don’t give me that. Seriously, are you okay?”

There was always something about her tone that disturbed Karr. She could be so absent-minded and utterly human, it would disgust him. But sometimes, her thinking was deeper than her adolescent form let on. Her eyes were dull gray when she was her normal self, but once she became concerned or began to think too deeply, they’d become so deep, it boggled Karr’s processor. The ability of expression that humans had was disturbing.

“I am fine,” he replied evenly, hoping his tone would signify he wanted the conversation to stop.

Bridget frowned again. “You don’t sound okay.”

“Then you are hearing me wrong. Just get back to work.”

Not deterred, Bridget leaned closer. “We didn’t mean to pry,” she whispered at his comfort level. She furrowed her brow. “The topic is dropped, okay? No more asking about it. I promise.”

Bridget had a thing about promises that Karr noticed early on in their relationship. She did not just carelessly make them or believe in them; she was as cynical as they came, almost as bad as he was. She had, of course, promised to get him a body and had come through with it. Her promises could be, at in the least sense, trusted to be kept.

“You okay with that?” Bridget asked. She was completely serious. Karr grumbled internally, but kept up a straight front—or as straight of a front talking box could muster.

“I’m fine. With it,” he replied evenly.

Bridget stared at the AI for a moment, as if trying to gauge his true intentions. Karr could smugly admit that as much as she tried, she could not accurately guess his thoughts. She, on the other hand, was an open book. Karr exploited that when he needed and it was one of the few satisfactions in his menial existence to not have to share the same with her.

“Okay,” she finally muttered, standing upright. She gave the AI a pat on the top of the box, ignored the low indignant growl that he let out and turned back to work. Micky had already given up communicating to either of them. Bridget’s promise, as simple as it was, came true.

Karr watched his guardian and her friend work for quite a bit longer. They worked in continued silence. It wasn’t deafening and Karr felt relaxed in it. He despised the days of sitting around and nothing concise happening. Apparently Bridget and Micky had been working this whole time on the project, but now he himself could witness its construction. They were a long ways off from completion, but it was a start. He could handle staring at the cement walls until then. He could handle this silence.

With luck, that wait won’t be for very long anyway, he added to himself, with an unusual streak of hopefulness. Overhead, the ticking of a large clock mounted on the wall seemed to keep rhythm of their progress and Karr let it sync with his processors. Then, he continued his subtle vigil.

& & &

The Knight estate was located in a far off section of the state, where trees encompassed nearly every side, in addition to a lake and other natural boundaries. It was secluded in the middle of a natural display of beauty. The house was donated to FLAG soon after Wilton Knight’s death and from it, Devon Miles operated the organization. It was this estate that Michael Knight and his intelligent car called “home base,” where Bonnie would meet them for repairs if not in the FLAG mobile unit and where the crime fighting pair could relax in security. As of that late day in May, however, neither machine nor man felt safe pulling up past the front gate.

“Who was that?” Michael asked, after they made it passed clearance. Usually they could just pull right up and the familiar guard would just wave them on. A new man was on duty, however, and they had to pull out their identification as though they were suddenly new faces on the premises.

“I don’t know,” Kitt replied, also surprised. “I just looked up FLAG’s employee list. It says they’ve been acquiring new help very recently.”

“Where’d the old guard, Herman I think his name was, go?”

“It says he was replaced by that new man.”

“Jeez, what the heck is going on?” Michael muttered darkly. “First Devon acts like he’s got the world falling in on him and now FLAG’s dropping perfectly good employees? Are they going through a mid-life crisis or something?”

Kitt made a sound that resembled a sigh. “I don’t know, Michael. We’ll find out today, though.”

Michael had mourned the previous morning when they realized their vacation was up and they had to return. Kitt had threatened to call Bonnie if his driver did not get his rear in gear and with much grumbling, Michael gave in. The ride back to upstate was a quiet one, more so than usual. Both had been extremely suspicious of Devon’s behavior. Records on the new chairman had been scarce and the only odd thing about this Lanski fellow was that he was Wilton Knight’s nephew.

“If this turns into another Garth incident, I swear, I’m resigning,” Michael grumbled as he pulled onto a branch of the driveway that led to the labs.

“Lanski seems more interested in the business aspect of the Industries, Michael,” Kitt replied.

“You never know.”

“And if you resign, where would that leave me?”

“Buddy, if I leave, you’re coming with me,” Michael laughed as they turned slowly around a bend.

Kitt fell silent, as if thinking that comment over. “I don’t think that would get past Devon,” he finally said, though Michael could hear a faint sound of thankfulness in his voice.

Michael smiled. “Ahh, since when does his opinion count?” he jested.

“Apparently a lot of the time.”

The two joked until they reached the hanger. They pulled in and Michael waved to some of the workers he knew. At least the majority of the workers were not replaced, he noted.

Inside the hanger, the room looked like an ordinary garage. Nothing overly high-tech or ornate was present to suggest that this was a testing area where the most advanced technology the world had seen yet was tested, Kitt included. Michael first met his partner here and often had to return to get the AI patched up.

Kitt came to a stop towards the back of the hanger. Michael let his friend put himself in park and took off his sunglasses. He tucked them under the sun visor and with a grunt, opened the car door.

“Oh, Michael, Kitt!”

Michael, half out of the car, looked up. He forced himself to smile pleasantly at the sight of Kitt’s chief engineer and a mutual friend coming down the stairs that led up to the second level of the warehouse. It wasn’t as though he disliked Bonnie Barstow—it was just that her arrival was the final thing pinning him and his car from escaping whatever mess awaited them here.

“Bonnie,” he said with friendly effort, shutting the door behind him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, Michael,” Bonnie replied cheerfully as she stepped up to him. She seemed a lot more cheerful than she had when she had been talking on the phone. Michael was inwardly relieved. Looking around him, Bonnie spotted Kitt and brightened even more. “There you are, Kitt!”

“Hello, Bonnie,” Kitt replied, an invisible smile in his voice that always made Michael smile to hear. It was so easy to forget that his partner was not human—or at least not human in body.

“Have a nice trip?” Bonnie asked, looking back up at Michael.

Michael shrugged. “It was good,” he said. He sighed heavily. “Ended too soon, though.”

“You always say that,” the engineer said, rolling her eyes.

“And I mean it. Every time.”

Bonnie slapped his arm in jest and pushed past him to get to Kitt. “I trust you two didn’t do anything too destructive,” she said.

“Oh, no, we were good this time,” Kitt replied. “Of course, Michael wanted me to get onto the beach, but heaven knows what that sand could have done to my internal gears.”

Bonnie laughed and nodded. “Good idea,” she said, throwing Michael a look.

“Hey!” Michael cried. “What’s that for?”

“You always find some way to get Kitt damaged.”

“I do not!”

“Actually,” Kitt started to say, but his driver cut him off with an exasperated cry.

“Who’s side are you on, anyway?” Michael demanded, pretending to be angry. Bonnie sighed and tapped him on his arm again.

“Devon wants to talk to us both,” she said, nodding towards the hanger exit. “Kitt’s examination can start later in the week.”

“Oh?” Michael asked, surprised. “I thought you said it had to do be done ASAP.”

“Yes, well, it turns out that the appointment was pushed back a few days.” She stopped and made a face. “The new chairman said he wanted to meet you and Kitt first.”

Michael quickly caught on to her tone. She had used it to describe him early on in his career; she was not too fond of this chairman. Devon didn’t seem to happy either and suddenly, Michael found himself distrusting whoever this guy was, if he ever got a chance to meet the man. He refrained from too many questions now, though. His short-lived career as a cop had taught him that certain questions had certain moments to be asked. For now, he decided as he looked between his car and Bonnie, he would stick to talking to his allies.

“Well, best not keep Devon waiting,” Michael said, putting his hands in his pockets and shifting on his legs slightly. “He seemed kinda antsy on the phone.”

Bonnie nodded and smiled tiredly. “He should be in his office. Follow me.” She turned and started towards the exit.

“Sure,” he replied. He looked back at the TransAm and waved. “See ya later, pal.” He went to walk away towards Bonnie’s departing figure.

But Kitt didn’t answer. Michael stopped, turned and stared at his car. The AI seemed unnaturally still, even while it was parked. He knew well enough that Kitt had picked up on something, or was thinking very hard.

“Buddy?” he called. “You okay?”

“It’s strange,” Kitt finally said. His usually calm voice sounded uneasy. “It seems like I’m picking up some sort of echo in here.”

“Echo?”

“A feedback of some sort. It’s new, but a singular transmission pattern.”

Michael stared at the AI blankly. Kitt made a sighing sound. “It’s like a one-way street. I can pick it up, but cannot trace or examine it further.”

“Oh,” Michael said, scratching his chin. He shrugged. “With all of the surprises Wilton has lying around here, are you that surprised you’d pick up something?”

“True,” Kitt replied, seeming to take this as a solution. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything to worry about. Go ahead and speak with Devon.”

“You gonna be okay?” Michael asked. He felt a little silly asking his artificially intelligent car that question; Kitt was always more prepared than he was. Something in the air, alien signals besides, made him uncomfortable. Hell, he hadn’t felt comfortable in a week and he did not like it at all.

“Yes, Michael.”

He couldn’t help but ask. “…you think this is gonna work out?” Michael tried to sound easy going about it.

For the decade they had been working together, Michael knew Kitt and Kitt knew Michael. While Michael knew that the AI was still just a robot, he could not help but think that the car showed emotions, evenly subtly. At the moment, Kitt seemed to tense with hidden anxiousness. “I certainly hope so.”

Michael grimaced and just patted the top of the TransAm in silent reassurance.