Four
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back it up. You’re bleeding?”
“Apparently.”
“You can bleed?” Betty asked incredulously.
“And it’s blue?” Michelle added with a similarly shocked tone.
“In theory, yes. My synthetic bio components are powered by thirium, a blue blood-like substance invented by Mr. Stark. Though it’s actually a bit thinner than human blood—“
Betty was fanning her face with the ruined steno pad, obviously flustered. Then she realized the gunk on her hand from the ink pen was Peter’s freaky robot blood, and she dumped the notepad in a trash can and held her stained palm far away from her body. Michelle was glad Harrington had already left; there was no doubt in her mind that he would have either called Principle Morita the second he heard blood or passed out on the spot. “This isn’t theoretical, Peter. You’re, like, actually bleeding!” There was an edge of panic in Betty’s voice. She was starting to freak out.
So was Michelle, but she didn’t feel like taking care of a bleeding robot and a panicked Betty Brant. “Go wash your hands and go home, Betty. I’ll take care of Peter.”
“Thank god. Good luck with—” Betty waved a hand in Peter’s general direction, “—That. Bye, Peter.”
“Bye Betty. Sorry about your notepad.”
Suddenly it was just the two of them alone in the study room. Peter was oddly quiet as Michelle eased its backpack off and onto the floor, then pulled the sleeves of its coat slowly as to not create more of a mess or cause more damage to whatever injury Peter had that Michelle hadn’t yet spotted.
“All of my operating systems are functional, according to my diagnostic check,” Peter said just as Michelle finally removed its coat. “But my thirium pump is showing signs of minor distress.”
“Thirium pump?”
“My equivalent of a heart, I guess. It sends thirium to the rest of my biocomponents.”
“Your heart is in distress?”
“Minor distress. I’m alright for now. As long as we can stop the bleeding long enough for Mr. Stark and his team to repair me and replace the thirium I’ve lost, I’ll make a full recovery.”
As much as it made her skin crawl, Michelle ran a hand down Peter’s arm from shoulder to wrist a couple of times until her finger caught on a rip in the sleeve of his crewneck, a few inches down from his shoulder. She observed the heavily thirium-saturated cotton and deemed it beyond saving before tearing it open wider with her fingers. What was lying beneath had Michelle wondering if the Apple she’d had at lunch was slowly poisoning her. Making her hallucinate.
Peter’s arm was cut, an abrasion a couple inches long and an inch or so wide marring the previously smooth skin of his upper arm. One might expect to see thick red blood and the inner meat of someone’s arm beneath such a slice, but that’s not what Michelle saw brewing beneath Peter’s pale complexion.
Beneath the cut something in Peter’s arm was sparking, not enough to singe his clothes but enough to light up the space inside his bicep that artificial muscle tendons and rubber veins didn’t occupy. Michelle watched as miniature pistons bobbed and rocked, apparently trying to keep up with the thirium slipping out through an obviously busted vein with harshly hashed tips on either end, like the vein and the false muscles above it had been severed by something heavy and blunt.
“Peter, oh my god, when did this happen?”
“Diagnostics tell me I’ve been losing thirium for two hours and sixteen minutes.”
“You’ve been bleeding since we got on the train? When did this even happen?”
“I’m sure you recall the man with the messenger bag in a rush to exit the train car.”
Yes, Michelle did. He knocked Peter to the ground in the process. “This happened then? When you fell?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. Morita’s going to be pissed.”
“Mr. Stark will be even more pissed, probably.”
Stark. Michelle had completely forgotten about Stark. “I don’t wanna call him. I really, really don’t.”
“I’ll call him. You should call the principal.”
“Right. I can do that.”
“And we should probably find a way to patch up my arm until we’re back at Midtown.”
Michelle aired on the side of safety and chose to get herself and Peter back to Midtown by cab. Which Peter paid for with a sleek black credit card she didn’t know it had tucked into its backpack. It was probably linked to whatever account Stark had set up to cover Peter’s expenses during his high school trial run, so Michelle didn't feel the least bit bad when Peter forked over the card to cover the fare.
The Scotch tape they used to bandage Peter’s arm at the library held up well enough for the trip to school, but Michelle knew Peter would need a more permanent solution soon. It was after school hours and Morita only stayed in the building so late to make sure Peter returned safely. So when Michelle called his office to tell him something had happened, he said he’d be ready when they got back to the school.
And he was ready. Very ready, apparently, considering Tony Stark was walking by his side.
They found Michelle and Peter standing outside Morita’s office, approaching them just in time to see Michelle peel Peter’s coat off and reveal a thirium-soaked shirt sleeve and a sloppy tape bandage wrapped around its upper arm.
“My god,” Stark said, eyes roving Peter’s entire form to look for further signs of damage. “What did you do to my android?”
Morita looked troubled, torn between defending his student and appeasing one of the school’s biggest donors. His voice was soft and timid when he finally decided to speak up. “I hardly think that’s—“
Michelle interrupted before Morita had the chance to choose wrong. “I didn’t do anything. It was an accident. He got manhandled by some idiot on the subway and fell into something. I guess. I don’t know, I didn’t really see it happen.”
“Whatever. I’ll probe his memory later and figure it out.”
“You can probe his memory? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
One of Stark’s eyebrows shot up behind his tinted glasses. Whether he was surprised by Michelle standing up to him or by her defending Peter, she couldn’t tell. “He’s a robot. He has nothing to hide.”
The implication was thick. Peter had nothing to hide. Unless Michelle had given him something to hide.
Michelle breathed very, very deeply through her nose. Tried to act like she wasn’t about to insult a man that could buy most of the East coast. Because what Stark was implying… Whatever direction his thoughts were taking, they were either illegal or immensely twisted. Michelle didn’t deserve the suspicion and couldn’t stand in that school hallway, linoleum beneath her feet and overhead lights dimmed for the evening, and let someone like Tony Stark accuse her of having secrets.
Michelle put a hand in the middle of Peter’s back and pushed him forward a few steps. He stumbled a little and Stark caught him with his hands on the android’s triceps to hold him steady.
“How long’s he been bleeding?” Stark asked, now every bit an observant scientist. The previous topic of conversation was apparently forgotten. Morita looked relieved, but Michelle was undignified. She hadn’t even been given the chance to defend herself.
“Uh, since we got on the train to go to AcaDec, I guess. Probably two hours or so? Give or take?”
Stark blanched. “Two hours? He’s been bleeding blue blood for two hours, and you’re telling me you never noticed--”
“I didn’t...I didn’t want my friends to worry.”
Michelle didn’t realize how uncharacteristically quiet Peter had been. Stark seemed equally surprised to finally hear his voice, but whatever anger he’d been directing at Michelle melted into concern for the boy-shaped machine in his arms. “Your friends, Pete?”
“Ned. B-Betty. J-james from gym class.”
Huh. Michelle hadn’t realized Peter had ever spoken to James from gym class. James was on the decathlon team, but to be considered a friend, Peter must have met him days prior. Apparently he’d been networking without her knowing, a testament to his evolving code and social programming.
“What about Michelle? Why didn’t you tell Michelle?”
Peter’s head swiveled slowly, almost like he couldn’t muster up the energy to turn it properly. Lazy, heavily lidded eyes landed on Michelle. How did she not realize he looked so bad? Could losing artificial blood really have such an effect on a non-living thing?
“Michelle doesn’t like me v-very much. I didn’t want to bother her.”
“What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting like this?” Michelle asked frantically in lieu of exposing how much Peter’s words actually shook her.
Michelle doesn’t like me very much.
“The biocomponents power the computer brain. He’s losing thirium, and when he loses thirium he’s got less of it being pumped through the computer. Basically, he’s shutting down.”
“Is he gonna be okay?”
One of Stark’s hands left Peter’s arms and he resettled it around the back of the boy’s neck. Peter was still turned and gazing blankly at Michelle, which gave the billionaire easy access. The tip of his index finger swept around just above where the hair started on the back of Peter’s neck.
Peter’s neck swiveled back toward Stark with an unprecedented energy, probably a result of whatever Tony was messing with at the back of his skull. “I don’t feel so good.” His voice came out monotone. Almost robotic. His usual higher pitch lined with the drone of an expressionless voice modulator.
“I know, Pete. Listen up. Transfer all uncatalogued data to the external hard drive.”
“Why, Mr. Stark?”
“Just do it, kiddo.”
There was a pause. Peter blinked so slowly that Michelle thought his eyes might not open again. “Data transferred.”
“Now do the same with your evolution progress. Any recent changes beyond your core code, save them.”
“D-done.”
“Now, Pete. Execute Command Code P911.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, wait!” Michelle couldn’t stop herself from stepping forward as she watched Peter gradually loosen in Stark’s arms. The tension in his neck caused by whatever button Stark pushed went first, then the squeeze of his shoulders. Eventually any remaining rigidity in his limbs was released, and Tony Stark was left holding the shell of an android that looked scarily like… Like a dead teenage boy. “The emergency shutdown code? I thought that was for emergencies.”
“This is an emergency. Accidental shutdowns can cause data loss and software damage. Emergency shutdown gives us time to transfer everything to emergency servers and to preserve the biocomponents. You let him bleed out for two hours, Miss Jones. Even with a small wound, a human couldn’t handle non-stop blood loss for that long without suffering some sort of permanent damage or dying.”
Your friends, Pete?
Ned. B-Betty. J-james from gym class.
Michelle was not Peter’s friend. She hadn’t wanted to be. She hated the robot the second she laid eyes on him on the auditorium stage nine days ago. She thought he was an abomination and a freak of non-nature and the last thing she wanted was to see him for seven hours a day, four weeks straight.
But when she looked at him, now cradled in Tony’s arms with one arm beneath his knees and one under his back, so reminiscent of a child who’d fallen asleep and his parent was carrying him to bed, Michelle realized that some deep part of her was hurt that her name wasn’t tacked onto Peter’s friend list.
And it was entirely her fault.
“I’ve gotta take him back to Stark Industries for repairs and rebooting. Mr. Morita, I’ll be in touch with you regarding the incident and if and when Peter will return to Midtown.”
Morita looked like he was torn between having a breakdown and groveling on his knees. Michelle had never seen him so unsettled. “Mr. Stark, I’m sure whatever happened was a complete accident--”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t,” Stark clarified. “I’m a man of science, but I still believe in simple bad luck.” He readjusted Peter in his arms so the robot’s head rested against the chest of his blazer. “Despite that, I’d like to know exactly how something like this happened. And depending on the extent of the damage to his biocomponents because of the thirium loss, his repairs might take too long to make bringing him back worthwhile. There’s a chance we’ll just have to reset the code to default and start at square one.”
Nine days of Peter following Michelle around. Of asking her a million questions. Of her correcting his grammar and telling him that he sounded too robotic or too formal or was asking too many questions or to straight up back off because she’d had enough of that creepy staring and artificial breathing.
She was supposed to have twenty-two more days. Now she might never see him again.
“We’ve gotta get going,” Stark said to Morita, chin dipping toward Peter’s slumped form. “I’ll give you a ring once I know what exactly is happening with Wonder Boy here.”
“O-Of course, Mr. Stark. Please keep me updated. We hope everything turns out okay. Right, Michelle?”
Morita side eyed Michelle like he expected her to wish Peter dead to Tony’s face. “Of course. Please, let us know how it goes.”
Stark offered a simple nod and walked off without another word, Peter’s dangling legs bobbing with each step.
Morita and Michelle were left alone in the hall. It was painfully quiet without Stark and his loud personality.
“For both of our sakes, Michelle,” Morita said, “I really hope that android doesn’t get deactivated permanently.”