"You can...?" James blinked with surprise. Miles was so much like his father, but yet a completely different man. He glanced about the room again, wondering what other robots or automatons the man had built. He wished he could talk to the man about Biolobotics, but now was not the time. He nodded slightly, shrugging away defeat. He wanted to show Miles his intelligent car, to brag slightly.

He left the house and found his car parked where he had left it, turning it on with his fingerprint and waiting for Miles before backing out of the driveway and going back to the city, back to the university. When they got there, James parked in the public space beside the large building, getting out and grimacing up at the glass dome. He couldn't see any light on up there. Leading the way, he opened a side door with his key and took Miles up the stairs to the elevator shaft. He tried calling the elevator, but it still did not come.

"Max... It's me... James... I have someone here that wants to talk to you... You remember Miles?" James looked to Miles, hoping the man would say something.

Outside, before reaching his vehicle, Miles saw James' car. It looked nothing like his but he could tell there was a huge amount of custom work done on it, and when it started, he could tell it was an intelligent vehicle. Perhaps the man's own work. He followed the professor in his own vehicle, staring at the rain and the taillights in front of him. Why him? Why did he have to act human for once in his life and help someone in town? Was it because he had been intrigued by the people surrounding them? Was it because he just had a chance to show he wasn't a robot? There was no way he was a robot---he'd always tell his father. Maybe the spirit of the old bastard was still pressing down on him, forcing him to prove he wasn't what the man had always accused him of being.

He silently followed James into the building, wiping his glasses on his dry shirt as they hurried up the steps and to the elevator shaft. When James looked at him, Miles looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose, stepping forward.

"Max." He dwindled into the weird, alien-like language that no one else could understand, apparently. "Max, James has come to me to speak with you. Actually, he asked me to come, and I agreed only because I want to apologize for what my father did. For anything you think I have done. Please let us up so we can speak face to face." He stepped back and looked at James as if in question. "If he doesn't want to speak with us, you cannot force him. You cannot force him to meet me, a basic stranger." Then he looked back at the elevator.

It didn't seem to work. James sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was certain it would work. "I guess I was wrong... I thought I knew him well enough but..." Maybe Max was already dead... James bit his lip and tried to get rid of the feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Miles." As he turned to walk back to his car, he heard a familiar beeping noise followed by the unmistakeable sound of an elevator. He grinned and turned in time to see the elevator's doors open. "Oh Max, you crazy fool!"

He pulled Miles into the small space and hit the button that made it go to the highest floor, almost running out once it arrived in the dome. The room was a mess, books had been tossed about and pages torn from their covers. "Max?" He found the man sitting at his desk, looking dishevelled and weak. His eyes were bloodshot, but James didn't know if it was from crying or having no sleep. Max didn't look at James, however. He was studying Miles. James held his breath and stepped to aside, so the two were basically alone.

Miles was about to turn and leave of his own accord---he didn't like being in town and here he was, having been convinced by this man to accompany him on what was, apparently, a fool's errand. Max seemed completely locked away, until the sound of an elevator hit their ears. He allowed himself to be shown into the elevator, pushing back his wet hair and following James when he bolted out once the doors slid open. Max's gaze pinned him only for an instant, then Miles shook it off, stepping forward and planting himself in front of the man.

"Max." Miles said, using the same language as before. "I am not Marion. I did not know where his notes came from. They were all in his handwriting. He wanted me to use my eye as a recording device to read every note and record every sketch he gave me, then he burned every page. I now know those notes were yours. I now know what is locked in my head is not his. Not mine. Every detail came from you and Marion was bent on... I'm not sure. Perhaps he meant to plagiarize it. Maybe after he had me memorize everything he would write it all down again, and publish every discovery under his own name. But before meeting you, I did not even know you existed." In his coat's pockets, Miles' hands clenched. He was ready for anything. An attack especially.

Max's stare kept for a long time before he finally exhaled and leant back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling, at the glass dome that showed them the night sky. He tapped a pen against his hand, thinking for minutes before returning his gaze at Miles. "I can't believe he did it... I had my suspicions... But I didn't want to believe it..." He glanced at James, who nodded in agreement. "I will never forgive him, what he did to me and to his son, my Godson." His face changed and he suddenly looked happier. "You do not intend to steal my work. I can tell. I am sorry I said some cruel things to you when we first met. Miles, I'd love to get to know you. Please work with me. Together we can memorise my notes and reproduce the things I had theorised."

James shifted uncomfortably before coming forward. "Max, look at you. Let me get some food and give you a proper clean before you two talk any further." He came closer and helped Max up. "You really had me worried. I'm sure you put extra years on my life."

"You don't look any older," Max replied, touching James' face.

"I feel it. Comon now..." He looked to Miles and smiled, silently thanking him. "Stay if you want... We aren't keeping you though. If you want to wait, I am sure Max would love to see your eye."

Godson? Miles shook off the word. Marion hadn't cared that much about him. To the man, Miles was little more than a lab rat. A test subject. Conditioned to live and exist away from humanity so no one would ask any annoying questions. His hands relaxed and he brought them out of his pockets, stepping away from the desk and staring at the clear ceiling. The dome that allowed one to see the sky. Then he looked back down, contemplating the idea. Work with Max. With someone. He hadn't worked with someone in... far too long. How long? He wasn't sure---the years just melded together nowadays. "Go take care of yourself." He said, looking between the two. "I... well, I will stay here and wait a bit. Perhaps I wouldn't mind showing off my work. My eye, especially, and my arm if you would like to investigate that further---though I assure you it's little more than trinkets and artificial nerve endings." He flexed his right arm.

James smiled and took Max to a separate room, where he was cleaned and dressed into fresh clothes. Once they were done, Max rejoined Miles in his study while James stayed in the kitchen to make some dinner. He went to the young man and carefully observed his arm. Metallic, but not too unsightly. It resembled a robotic part from one of James' machines. He marvelled at the delicate movements it seemed to be able to do, and observed the wiring posing as nerves. He went to a seat and sat down, showing Miles his fake leg. It looked real, but he could peel the skin back to show his wiring and synthetic muscle.

"I could make your arm like this," he said, wiggling his toes to show how the tendons worked. "And make a synthetic skin that has feeling and the look of real epidermis."

While he was alone, Miles took a few minutes to wander in a shallow circle, pick up a scattered paper or the ripped cover of a book. He wasn't interested enough for now to study them closely, so he set them aside and looked up at the sky. It was hard to see stars from the overabundance of lights of town. He didn't like that about town at all. When Max returned, he approached calmly. His arm was mostly plated with metal sanded and modeled to be smooth eve where it stopped abruptly. He'd never thought to try to form an artificial skin.

"It does look impressive." Miles said. "Though to be honest I prefer the bare bones of my model. It's much easier to replace the eroded ball joint of the elbow, wrist, and fingers when they inevitably begin to break down." He crouched, reaching up to his face and opening his left eye wide, digging into the socket and popping it out. "I developed this... years ago. It records everything I see, but only when it's... attached." He pulled, and the optic wire broke away. "I hope you have a lubricant around I can use to replace it. I do need it to see safely at night." Miles said as he presented the eye.

Max grinned and carefully took the eye from Miles, looking it over. It was so fascinating and marvellous, Max couldn't help but to gasp at the creation. "For years I've wanted to create something like this... It stores information inside the object itself? Or is it somehow linked to your brain?" He looked over at Miles, wondering how he managed to integrate it into a biologic object such as his brain. "Can you use it to zoom and enhance your sight?" Of course the military would be interested in eyes that let you see in the dark and zoom to a target. But Max didn't care about them.

"You made it yourself using my notes that you thought your father had written? So fascinating..." He gave it back to Miles. "You are very smart, even more so than your father. I'm glad you are nothing like him, I think I can trust you with my little secret." He touched his head. "An AI brain. A computerised synthetic brain that will never grow old or die out. It stores every bit of information, and is able to recall that information in seconds. Imagine being able to connect to the Internet, or to others using this brain. Entire conversations, movies, songs... Books... Recorded and stored in your own brain..." Max licked his dry lips. He hadn't talked like this in a long time. It was weird that Miles understood him. It was often said that he reverted to a strange, almost alien language when he talked.

Miles was nodding a little. "It records everything. I originally implemented a motherboard as a backup enhancement, but realized it was unnecessary because whatever I see is recorded automatically. Which should be impossible for a human brain..." Which of course he had. Nothing like Max's brain. He was human, even after what Marion did to him. All the experiments he had to endure, even if he didn't remember them. At a certain point he had begun to forget what year it was, so Marion had taken all the calendars out to avoid confusion.

He looked down, then, accepting his eye and studying it. It looked real. Like a real eye. Even the iris. "I must admit... I created this eye before my father showed me the notes. It was because of my eye that he forced me to read them all. Then he made me recount them all to make sure I wasn't scrambling the information. I'm not sure he trusted what I'd created before I was exposed to the notes themselves." Miles glanced up at Max. All his work, stored in Miles' head. Every word of every note, and Miles had it because of Marion. Because his father was a damned thief.

Max sat back on a chair, staring into space. He couldn't believe that Marion had stolen his notes and had hidden Miles from him and James for years. Max had always liked Marion, and thought he was a trust worthy man. "I hope you're not like your father... You can help me... Help me rewrite my notes. I need to create another brain for James..." His good friend. The man was looking older and older every time Max saw him. "I promised we'd live forever..."

James entered the room carrying a tray with a few plates of food on it. "You're welcome to have some Miles, I made enough for us three... I'm not much of a cook, but it is quite nice." He had made a pasta out of the ingredients he had found in Max's cupboards. He handed a plate to Max, giving him a fork and re-explaining how to eat just in case the man had forgotten in his seclusion. He then offered Miles a plate.

Miles gave the man a pitying look and sighed. "I'll help you... It's the least I can do for my father's betrayal. I've always hated the man, but I suppose you have as much reason now. I'm simply appalled you had to learn of his shortcomings the way you did." He looked around, finding a stool and taking a seat with a light huff as James returned.

"Thank you." Miles nodded and took the offered plate, balancing it on both knees. "I have agreed to help Max recover his notes from my brain. I will begin writing them down as soon as I can, but there are... so many... and the diagrams are so intricate. It will take a while to adjust, and perhaps a few sketches to get them right. But I will do so." He paused to take a bite---he'd not eaten in a while, and when he did, it wasn't much. But he didn't want to seem rude.

Max ate his food quietly, the sounds of the tiny electric impulses in his brain only being heard by him. "I have remade most of the notes, but some things... I need to recall." He looked over at his colleague. The man he could call a friend if he understood what friends were. James had been disappointed to hear that Max's research had been lost, the notes on how to create working organs and realistic blood... Max knew the man wanted to live forever with him... But he didn't know if this still was the case.

"This organic material is quite refreshing. I feel replenished, thank you James." He nodded and put the empty plate to a side. "My notes... I can not wait to see them again." The calculations, the numbers he had forgotten... Why hadn't he stored the information in his brain?

Miles smiled gently, setting his plate alongside Max's and dusting his pants. "I understand you want your notes back as soon as physically possible. I will put on hold all my current projects and begin copying them as soon as I return home, or if you prefer, I can remain here so you can be given each section as I finish it. I will require a brief return to my home to mange the clockwork, however, every other day." He stood and looked around from James to Max. "Unless you had other preferences?" He added as an afterthought.

"You can return home, I do not like my study being too crowded," Max said with a nod. "And James can check up on you every day to see your progress on rewriting my notes." James sighed and put down his plate too, looking from Max to Miles.

"Why are you volunteering me to run your errands, Max?" He shook his head and sighed again, but had a smile on his face. "And what's this about your study being too crowded? Why, back when there were three of us, we'd work all together under this glass roof. Or have you forgotten about that...? The time we spent together as friends?" He gave Max a curious glance.

"That was several years ago, James. The past." Max didn't take his eyes off Miles as he talked, smiling as he thought about getting his notes back. "Marion is dead, and a thief."

James closed his eyes, feeling slightly hurt. Didn't Max remember the fun they had inventing things together? The nights he had shared with James... He could never forget those. "James, this is not the time to discuss our past. We have a young guest and I am certain he doesn't want to hear two old fools reminiscing about the 'good old days'," Max tilted his head and looked to his friend, who nodded slowly.

"Oh, yes, sorry Miles. I think I like this plan, I can check up on you every now and then. I wouldn't mind seeing your work in Biolobotics too... But you are free to visit the school, and Max, whenever you want. I will give you the passcode for the elevator."

Miles smirked slightly, glad nonetheless to be able to work in his own home. The school reminded him of the bastard he had to call 'father', though he had never personally visited the school on his own while his father was alive. Even so, he hadn't even known of the man's involvement with the school until recently. "Old fools, you say." He snorted and shook his head, stepping away and toward the door. "Ah... This reminds me, do either of you know the year...?"

He bit his lip. It was an odd question, he knew, but he simply couldn't trust the calendars he saw. Every time he looked at one, he couldn't understand whether it was correct, or years off, even now. "I apologize for the odd question..." He added quickly.

"Well... Last time I saw the date it was 4005," Max replied, stopping to look over at James, who sighed loudly.

"Not another one who doesn't know what year it is. I put a calendar up in Max's study and he manages to lose it... It's 4115." He looked over at Max, who seemed startled.

"It's been that long...?" Max stared at James, concern coming over his face. He hadn't realised how long it had been. James had to be at least 100 by now. Humans lived longer now, but not everyone can live past 150 and still feel young.

"It's been 100 years since we met. A century, would you believe. At least 80 since we met Marrion. About 50 since the school opened and Marrion... Passed away," James nodded, remembering every number in his mind. He had always been good with dates. "Actually, it's my birthday soon. I'm turning 124."

Max continued to stare, his mouth falling open before he looked to Miles. "It's his birthday soon..."

Miles was stock-still, staring but not seeing. If anyone said anything else, it was blocked out by the dull buzzing in his ears. Fifty years since Marion died? Fifty? When Marion died, Miles was no more than twenty seven years old. How was that possible? It couldn't be. Marion had said Miles was often out for a few days, a week at most, when he woke up from his blackouts. It couldn't be right. He couldn't be seventy seven years old. He didn't feel it. He didn't look it. Sound it. "No..." He felt sick, so he paused to swallow hard, fighting the pressure in his throat.

"I can't be... no... No. He never said I was unconscious for years at a time..." How long? How many years was each blackout? Five? Ten, even? What did his father do to him? "That..." He paused, swallowing hard. "It... that's why Marion didn't keep calendars in the house... He didn't want... I wasn't supposed to know... He never told me what he did to me... He just said... small procedures..." Miles breathed in, dizzying himself into swaying a little as he switched his gaze from James to Max. "They weren't small, I guess..." Why did he feel numb? Wasn't he supposed to be angry? Raving mad? He just felt... tired... As though he'd just run a ten mile marathon without stopping.

James felt concerned and went to the younger man's side, steadying him with a firm hand on the shoulder. Max had turned away, probably about to interrogate Miles more. James shook his head as he caught his friend's eye. Now wasn't the time to ask what Marrion had been doing to poor Miles. "Steady yourself there, Miles," James said, pushing him gently towards a chair. "Deep breaths... It's easy for time to fly in these days... People live a lot longer than a few millennia ago. Some people don't even know they are over a hundred..." James glanced at Max. "It can be a shock on your body... Try to calm yourself. Don't try to understand what Marrion did. I don't understand it myself. I guess only he knows for sure what he did to you and how long it took..."

"Marrion... I just can't believe he... James... Our colleague was worse than... Worse than those that profit from Necrotech... I am going to get his knighthood and awards revoked. He won't be talked about in my school..." Max was angry. He talked quietly when he was angry. "Miles... Your father... Marrion... He shall never be talked about in my school, or in my presence. He doesn't deserve the memories we have of him."

Miles felt worn down. As though he had lost everything that made him who he was in less than thirty seconds. He sat, cradling his head in his hands and feeling the sensation return to his body. It hurt with every moment that passed, a little more, like needles being pushed into every pore on his body. "At this point... I don't care. I don't care what you do. Feel free to dig up his grave and burn his bones. How... How...? How he could do this is beyond me... That man... That bastard, son of a bitch... I... He made me miss so many things... Didn't even ask my consent... Crush my arm, and then take away my humanity..."

Was he human? What did the man do to him? Was he more robotic than human now? He almost didn't want to know, but didn't feel logical enough to test himself to see. With a sigh, Miles finally forced himself to stand, but he didn't feel as though he were in his own body. "I... should be... I should be on my way." He stepped away from them, out of the glass-ceiling office and to the elevator in the small lobby, pressing the call button for the elevator.