The Four Studies: Biolobotics, Gadgetry, Necrotechnology, and Techmergery
By NekoLen and Tachigami

There were several layers of lenses in front of his face as he worked on the smallest screws in the back of the artificial eye. They were there to replace his glasses, which he had to take off to work on the robotic eye. He used the smallest screwdriver he had to completely fix the back and its wired optic nerve to the rest of the orb. Covering the rough back with its lubricated glove and tipped his head back, pulling open his left eyelid and revealing the dark void in his head. About a decade ago he had lost his eye, mostly out of frustration and half-insanity, clawing it out because it was growing weaker and more difficult to use. Two years after that he had perfected an artificial eye, something that was part robotic and part organic material, something he had learned to grow from a few skin cells, his very own. At least he had learned a few useful things from his father. He fitted the wired optic nerve into its magnetic slot, then squeezed the eye into the thin metal he had discovered he needed to hold the eye in place so it would function not only as a normal eye, but to record the world around him and everything he saw. Giving it a twist, he slotted it into place, blinking and rolling both of his eyes to make sure they were back in place.

Pushing himself away from the desk, Miles smoothed back his hair, which had fallen into his face while he was working. He picked up his glasses and placed them on his nose, shaking his right arm as it started to seize up. He needed to replace the elbow joint and lubrication, but had ignored it for the past two days. Standing, the man moved out of his oval-shaped study and into the hallway of the third floor, where the sound of mechanical gears working were louder. Pressurized steam pumped hot air through the various pipes that he'd built through the walls of the entire house, making the house itself a massive machine, powering everything from the lights to the clock tower at the west side of the building. He went to the narrow staircase to the right of the hallway, moving down the stairs and to the second floor. He passed many small contraptions along the way, little trinkets he had made out of boredom. With a flick of a switch they would come to life and obey not only basic, one-word commands, but more complex orders. But he hadn't gone so far as to create a working automaton, not yet. He feared failing, but it hadn't stopped him from creating complex diagrams.

In one of his many storage rooms, Miles found what he needed. A replacement elbow joint and a new can of lubricant. He pulled his shirt off his mechanical arm and twisted its shoulder joint completely backwards so he could focus on his elbow. Using one of the size four flathead screwdrivers, Miles unscrewed the flat plate metal and popped the ball joint out of its socket, inserting the can's nozzle into the receiver and pressing down. The lubricant filled every crevice of the artificial veins he'd constructed and began circulating immediately, so he as quick to reposition a new ball into the joint and replace the plate metal, screwing it back into place and turning the shoulder so it resembled a real arm again. Shaking it out, Miles smiled a little at the feel of a smooth gliding sensation as he worked his fingers, his elbow, his shoulder in a rounding motion, and placed the screwdriver aside. Closing his mechanical eye he sorted through the list he'd made himself that day. Yes, he had to visit town for a grocery trip, and had quite a long list as well. Sighing, he turned and stepped out of his storage room, closing the door behind him. Better now than later, when he had time to dwell and talk himself out of it.

Professor James Edgeworth, the man who taught Biolobotics to students attending Steamgear University, was well-liked and quite a handsome man. He was often mistaken for someone much younger than his actual age, and he took no offence. He had work done on his teeth, of course, but also his posture and skin had been improved by the various technology available. He often wore a smart suit, his dyed black hair combed back in a neat manner, but today he looked a lot more casual.

He dodged the students in the hallways, going straight up the stairs to where the University's owner and head professor lived. He hadn't heard from Max in a long time and hoped that the, often dubbed "Mad Scientist", was doing fine. It wasn't strange for him not to hear from his colleague for weeks on end, but it had been nearly a month. He stopped by the steam-powered elevator, pressing the button and waiting for the doors to open. He smiled and waved at the few students that passed and seem to notice him, glad to slip into the elevator once it arrived on his floor.

He rode the small box to the top of the University, to where Max stayed under a glass dome. When he stepped out of the elevator, he had to blink a few times to process what he was seeing. The study was usually messy, with parts of robots strewn about and huge piles of books towering over the golden tables. Today, everything was upside-down. The tables sat with their legs in the air and even the books were sitting on their front covers. He tip-toed through the mayhem, finding Max standing near an upside down bookcase. The man had a frenzied look about him, one that was not too uncommon in the midst of a scientific break through.

"What on Earth are you doing?" James asked, blinking again at how ragged Max seemed. His long blonde hair looked unbrushed and his worn robes were hanging off him. He jumped slightly and smiled when he saw who it was.

"Demonstrating gravity and balance," came the strange reply, as the man turned a right-side-up porcelain elephant on its back.

"Demonstrating... Why? And why is this clock here?" James had noticed a metal alarm clock, lying on its face on top of a lamp. He picked it up, noting the time was wrong. Max hissed slightly and came towards him, taking the clock from his hands and placing it back where it had been.

"Balance. Stay there." The weird man then twirled around, going to where he often sat to record his notes. Except he had to sit upside down.

He made it down the stairwell and from the hook by the domed double doors pulled his duster. It was an old thing, stitched together using many other scraps of clothing of the the same color, but different tones. An ancient jacket that still retained its warmth, but let Miles stay cool enough to wear it even in the heat of summer. He pulled it on and stepped out of his home, onto the spacious front porch, closing and locking the door and stretching himself, blinking in the golden sunlight that filtered through the trees. His home was spacious, massive, full of his works, rooms replaced throughout the years. Some rooms were nothing but steam reservoirs, pistons hissing up and down as they reacted with pistons in different rooms, a chain reaction keeping them moving, functioning, without an outside power source. It had taken a full decade of constant work to get them to work in a cause-and-effect train. His yard contained a sun dial and various solar panels for a little extra power, as he needed as much as he could find. Beyond that and the green yard, a low vehicle sat.

He approached it and opened the door. It looked like a common vehicle inside, but had no ignition switch. Instead, when Miles got in, it read his false eye's code on a laser scanner in the middle of the steering wheel, then revved to life. He left the drive smoothly, the thick wheels gliding over the earth and the stone effortlessly to give the riders a curiously gentle ride. He left his home behind, the tallest point towering over the tallest trees and giving anyone that looked the home's way an accurate representation of what time it was, down to the second. Along the shadowed forest road, which people so rarely took, Miles was able to let his mind wander, and so he studied his right arm. The arm that was fully mechanical. If his father hadn't knocked him into the clock tower's largest cog wheels, he wouldn't have to have a mechanical arm at all. The man had never even apologized. Miles clenched the hand and turned his gaze to the road, blinking when he finally came out and into the outskirts of the town. First came two wide fields that had recently been planted with new crops, then the farm houses that manned the fields and pastures.

Then came the residential streets, so full of life, kids playing in the streets who scurried away whenever a car came by, parents watching them from the porch in the shade. He managed to leave the residential streets behind and started snaking in through the taller buildings, finding his way along. He had to pass the college, where men and women learned where his father used to teach. He gave it a hard stare, hating that he had to park so near it. But he had to, it was unavoidable since the supermarket was so close by, literally just across the street. Those windows and doors held sour memories, and every month he had to be reminded of them as if he didn't recall them effortlessly on his own.

"Actually, stand on your head," Max instructed, after buckling himself into the upside down chair. James gave him a weird look and he shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." He reached over to a machine which was hanging above him from the ceiling, and flicked it on. Suddenly the room tilted and flipped, but the furniture stayed on the ground and the windows above them still showed the sunny blue sky. James lurched and fell to the ground, his body sending him confused messages and making him feel sick.

"So if we just calibrate this..." Max was busy writing down notes and working out complex mathematics. "Change this..." He grinned and turned the machine off, returning the room to its normality. He unbuckled himself from the chair, looking over at James with concern.

"What... Are you doing? Delving into physics again? Trying to control gravity..." James gulped, stopping himself from being sick and giving Max a hard stare. "That's bordering Necrotech, you know that, right?"

Max wasn't listening, he was setting his tables back up the right way and muttering to himself in a strange language. James sighed and approached his friend, placing a hand lightly on the man's shoulder. "Look, Max. I think it's time you go out. Outside to the real world. I'll take you anywhere, you just got to get out of your study."

Max sighed and focussed on James, seeing the concern in his eyes. "You don't want them to lock you away again, do you?"

"Who said that? It was Tessa, wasn't it? Professor Juctun?" James shook his head, pushing the man slightly towards the door.

"No one said it, Max. I'm just worried about you. Surely there's something you need to buy? New clothes? Food?"

"Pineapple." Max nodded and let himself be removed from his study.

"There you go. You need pineapple for... Some reason. I'll take you to the supermarket. Some fresh air might do you the world of good. Might help you think," James was nodding, helping Max into the elevator.

Miles found his way into the supermarket and blinked. It was a huge place, and he was never used to so many people. It was why he only took one trip into town every month, stocking up on food that he made sure to keep fresh in a variety of ways so he didn't have to make a needless secondary trip. He pulled one of the many carts from a line nearby and leaned against it, reviewing the mental list that flashed in his mechanical eye and then looking up to the directive on the wall. He would have to make two trips, at the least, to get everything into his vehicle. At least he had more than enough room in his modified car to store everything from fragile eggs to fast-melting ice if he needed extra.

He barely paid physical attention to what he grabbed when he grabbed it. The location and feel of the item was familiar, and he had done this more than enough times not to worry about anything being moved. He'd know immediately. His mind was more on his personal biolobotics, something he had never shown off to anyone else. By all look and feel his mechanical eye was just a regular eye, something that required glasses when in fact he had popped the left lens out and replaced it with regular glass. Miles was considering the idea of exchanging his second eye with the same technology, but it took so long. Since it wasn't getting worse, he hadn't worried about it, though being forced to wear prescription goggles while he worked to avoid slipping glasses falling into grinding gears was a dreadful frustration.

Miles sighed, stopping at the end of one of the isles to rearrange everything in the bottom of the cart. Making sure everything was where it was supposed to be as he mentally crossed off part of his list and made sure the heavy stuff was stowed away where it wouldn't crush the soft stuff. He looked up and at the front doors that were several dozen paces away as people came and went. He shook his hair back, shrugging out of his jacket and tying it around his waist, doubled up so it didn't drag behind him. Get everything, get out, and he could finally return home and try to convince himself to start work on that automaton he'd been skirting around so long.

James prepared himself for the following onslaught of attention they would receive as soon as they left the tight elevator. Max's fame surpassed him and many students longed to be taught by the eccentric man, to learn from him, to even just talk to him. He was the first to master both subjects taught in the university, as well as the more shady Necrotech. He was the one that thought up the idea of Techmergery, even though many scoffed at his claims, there were those that believed in him. Like James did.

The hall was empty, but as they started down the stairs, those that passed by stopped to watch. Soon the whispers started and heads were turning. James gritted his teeth, pulling Max along as the man seemed distracted by the students all pointing and talking about him. "Come on, Max. We'll be swamped if you linger. You know how highly your pupils think of you."

"I have a golden statue outside the university. You don't have one," Max said this with a straight face, watching the students flock around them as they walked. "I guess they like me." He stopped and bowed slightly, his long blonde hair hitting the ground.

"Come on, move it," James hissed, dragging his friend along until they left the university. Thankfully the supermarket was just across the road. They walked past the mentioned golden statue, James glanced up at the metallic face. It made Max look Godlike, even though the man walking beside him was nothing like that. Max was... Attractive. He grinned as he remembered the nights they had spent together, hoping Max remembered them too.

They crossed the road with relative ease, walking inside the large building that had many items on its shelves. Max's face lit up and he went to the produce section, looking for pineapples. He needed the tropical fruit for an experiment, but he couldn't find it. He approached a young man, tapping him on the shoulder. "Pineapple. This establishment has them?" The man blinked at him and then recognition dawned on his face.

"You're... You're Maximilian Steamgear, aren't you?" he seemed excited. James appeared to Max's side, pulling him away. But it was too late. Fans of the man surrounded them, trying to ask multiple questions and have various objects signed. James was annoyed. Max wasn't some... Celebrity actor. He was a well respected scientist.

"They have pens. What do they want?" Max asked James suddenly, blandly looking at the pens and paper being shoved in his face.

"They want your signature."

"Signature?"

James sighed and rubbed his face, trying to block the man from the small crowd. "They want your name on a piece of paper." Max laughed at the explanation, shaking his head.

"Bizarre."

Miles found himself staring at the chilled fruit in the produce section, mentally scanning the list he'd made throughout the past few days. He needed purified motor oil as well, damn it. This particular supermarket was often out of stock and he had to go on a virtual scavenger hunt to find the stuff, which he tended to order in twenty-galleon drums to be delivered to his home. He went through it like water, keeping his artificial limb oiled and moving fluidly or using it to keep the pistons lubricated so they didn't overheat or grind. His various creations used the stuff to avoid seizing up, and he needed quite a bit of it. When this place didn't have it, he had to put in an order elsewhere and wait longer, stressing himself out as he concerned himself with his clock tower's well-being. He sighed, picking up several plastic containers of strawberries and settling them atop the cart. He had organized everything very well, and would probably only have to make one more trip in after this one.

He glanced up as a strange and unusual commotion hit his ears. People were gathered around a pair nearby, stretching and reaching. A celebrity, perhaps? He wasn't sure. He stood up straight to look over the heads of the others and spotted yellow hair, and heard a request for pineapple. Looking to his right, Miles saw a large section dedicated to the spiny things, and reached over, picking one up. He hadn't emphasized that he wanted more than one, which was curious. Why buy just one pineapple? True the acid was a good conductor of electricity---was that what it was going to be used for? He shrugged off the idea and stepped forward, worming his way into the small gaggle and pulling people back. "Move back, give the pair room. You'd not want to be ambushed on your way to the grocery store, would you?" He pushed them on their way, receiving sour glares and mutterings but paying little attention to them. People didn't often speak against him, if he ever brought attention to himself in the first place. Perhaps they thought Miles to be a guard of sorts, which was fine with him.

When the two were free, he studied he blonde. He looked... oddly familiar. Curiously. But he didn't know where, specifically, he saw the man. Nonetheless, he offered the item with his mechanical arm. "Ananas comosus for you. No one should be swarmed while buying their highly acidic citrus, in my opinion."

Max was surprised to see the crowd go, but part of him felt relieved. He didn't want to write his name for hundreds of people. Why didn't they just write his name for themselves? He smiled at the man that had seemingly dispersed the crowd, taking the pineapple from him and looking it over. "Pineapple. Perfect." He nodded and looked to James. "This man needs a golden statue."

"Sure, we'll do one of him holding a pineapple," James replied, rolling his slightly and letting Max wonder off a bit. He gave the man a steady stare, before nodding. "Thank you. I really hate bringing him out but if I didn't force him, he'd die alone in his study." He turned, starting slightly to find Max standing right behind him, staring hard at the stranger.

"You look familiar," Max commented, coming closer to the man and brandishing the pineapple like a sword. He looked the stranger up and down and then shrugged. "An old colleague. Dead now." He looked down at his pineapple, ideas bursting into his mind. "Basil and amethyst." He turned back to James. "Fertiliser, sunflower seeds... And.... Motor oil."

Miles tilted his head, curious but not willing to pry. Part of him recalled one of the statues in front of the university, and realized that the man in front of him was, in fact, one of the statues. But for some reason that wasn't what he recalled most of all. He could remember something from some years back. Had he met this man before? Probably not specifically. Possibly from a distance. A meeting some time far in his past, while his father was still alive and working at the university. Student? Colleague? He looked young, but then again, so did Miles. He shook his head and focused on the man, backing away a step.

"You may be speaking of my father." Miles said, growing tense. "A virtual paragon of knowledge in the four studies if you believe half the old codgers that idolized him when he was alive. Considered him a proverbial god among men." If only they had known the real man. The sadist. The experimenter. The cretin. The scourge.

"Marion?" James' face registered acknowledgement. "Oh my goodness, Max. It's Marion's boy! Wow, look how much you've grown. The last time I saw you, you were just a boy..." He smiled, feeling happy to have run into his old friend's son. They didn't know much about Marion's home life, but they did get to see Miles when he was a baby, and again when he was slightly older. Marion had wanted the boy registered into Max's university and indeed, Miles' name was there for years. But the man never did come to the university to study.

"Marion. That name rings a bell," Max had stopped thinking and was staring at Miles now, remembering his old colleague and the things they used to do together. Marion had been a strange man, constantly wanting to get close to Max. Sometimes it felt suffocating. "Miles is your name, right? You've been registered since you were born, and yet you have not attended a single class. What profession are you in? Gadgetry like your old man?" James gave the blonde a wary look. He hadn't heard Max talk so much before, especially to a near stranger.

Miles couldn't combat a strange and icy feeling that had settled in his stomach and was rising into a ball in his throat. "What? I don't recall either of you..." Hadn't it been more than two decades since his father's death? How would either of these too-young men have met him at any time that Miles wouldn't remember? And just how well did they know his father? Marion had so rarely wanted to be referred to as a 'father' that he forced Miles to refer to him either as Marion or as Dr. Parker.

"I've never attended that college." Miles stated flatly. "My father... registered me? Why would he..." He blinked. "No, I'm not at all an attendee of that college, I have never even stepped foot in the place. I don't major in anything at all... I've never focused on one single study..." He blinked and twisted his arm, for some odd reason feeling it begin to seize. He'd replaced the ball joint in the elbow but the shoulder wouldn't need to be taken care of for at least another month.

Max looked at the weird way the man moved and a weird feeling came over him, but he didn't say anything. He turned away, holding onto his pineapple like a newborn child and looked to James. "How do I go about taking this with me without causing a commotion?" Last time he had walked out of the building and several big men rushed after him, standing beside him until James came over to clear up the problem.

James was still looking at Miles, wondering why the man seemed so icy. Marion hadn't been the friendliest of people, and his attitude started to change after his wife died of mysterious complications at childbirth. The man seemed to worship Max and want to spend every waking moment with him. Maybe Miles felt distant towards his father because of how little he seemed to be home during the years up until his death. "Your father wanted nothing but the best education for his son. Even though you never expressed the desire to go to study, he told us to leave your position open... In case you ever changed your mind. You are welcome at Steamgear University, and if you want to learn Biolobotics, it'd be an honour to teach you."

He glanced at Max. "You use money. I've told you this before. Remember? You give them the right amount of paper and they'll let you have the pineapple. We can get those other things here, and anything else you might need. Then we will pay for them and go home, OK?" Max tilted his head and then nodded slightly.

"Miles, you are paying for your supplies too? Do you need help with anything? I'd love for you to see my inventions sometime. Your father always loved my inventions..." He poked the spiky leaves of the fruit into Miles' face, noting how one went under his glasses and jabbed his eye. "And you could show me yours..."

Miles backed away, swatting slightly at the sharp little leaves of the fruit as they went for his remaining eye. "Ah..." He repositioned is glasses and blinked. "Well, I haven't had anyone in my home for... a very long time. My greatest creation is the clock, but... I've got little that would be truly fascinating. I usually disassemble the thing after I master it, to save on parts..." He glanced backward to his supplies. "I just came out on my monthly run for food and oil..." He added quietly.

Looking at the other man, who seemed to be speaking to the first as a father would when teaching his child to use money. "Well, I apologize, but I don't think I'll need teaching. I've more or less mastered the art of biolobotics... Among other studies." He raised the shirt sleeve over his mechanical arm and flexed it slightly. "This is my second greatest achievement in biolobotics so far."

Both the men stared at Miles and then James cautiously glanced towards Max. The man's face was blank, but James could sense it. There was a volcano about to erupt under his cool surface. How could this boy, this young man know about Techmergery and have it successful? The only other person that had done a successful Techmergery procedure was Max. His left leg was entirely robotic, covered with a synthetic skin. The man was working on how to make the rest of him robotic, but he lost his notes. How had Miles found them...? Maybe Marion stole them...

"We should go..." James said suddenly, looking again at Max. The anger was showing on his usually stony face. "Um..."

"That's not Biolobotics. That's Techmergery. How? How did you know how to do that? Create a limb? I invented that years ago. How did you get my notes? Your father... Did he betray me and steal my life's work?" Max's voice was raising slightly and those that lingered nearby looked at the trio with curiosity. "Give me my notes back, you cowardly thief!"

James grabbed onto Max before the man could lunge forward, as though he wanted to rip the arm off Miles' body. "Please, take no offence. He... It's a shock. That is all. But I recommend you going before he tries to kill you..." Max relaxed and shook his head.

"No... You come to my study. We must talk. If you don't come, I will find where you live."

Miles backed away a step and raised his metal arm. It could take a massive blow and was much stronger than a normal human limb, but techmergery it was not. His eye, on the other hand, that was a different story. It took living cells merged with technology. His arm, however, was wired to what had once been nerves running the length of his actual arm, the electric firing controlling his arm as a normal arm would. "I've no idea what either of you are talking about. My arm is fully functional biolobotics because it is fully mechanical. My left eye, however, is techmergery. I learned it not only on my own but using my bastard father's notes and studies on the four tiers."

He backed away another step and narrowed his eyes at both men. "I don't even know your names but you have no right to threaten me. I've done nothing to you and even if my current accomplishments have similarities to any of yours, it means little, it means nothing at all, in fact. And if you come to my home uninvited I will be forced to take action. If you would be so kind, I'll take my leave, peacefully." He turned on his heel and swiped at his sleeve, pulling it back down and running through his memorized list once more. Even as he turned back to his scavenger hunt, Miles kept a very close watch on the men. The idea of going back to their office was definitely unappealing. He wasn't going to fight, either. He was tired of any resemblance to his father others came to claim by him, tired of being called 'his father's son'. He was nothing like the bastard, nothing at all. And he had nothing to do with whatever corrupted legacy the man had left behind.

James watched Miles leave, feeling dumbstruck. He had done it. His suspicions were correct. Marion had stolen Max's notes, and now Miles had them. It could ruin Max, having his notes made public before he could fully test it. James wanted to talk more on the matter, wanted to hear about the process of making an eye, but knew it was best to leave Miles alone. He only realised he was alone when he finally turned around to where Max had been standing.

The man had gone. He didn't know where he went and panicked, calling out for him and finding out from someone near the door that he had run out of the building. Heart pounding in his throat, he left the supermarket after his friend, fearing the worst. He ran across the road, apologising to the cars he stopped as he did so. He ran into the university and took the stairs two at a time. The elevator didn't come when called, meaning Max had locked it. He could hear crashing coming from the top of the shaft, and closed his eyes. Max was mad. Max was upset. He was ruined. Marion had betrayed their sacred bond, their pact to become Masters of the Four Studies.

-

Weeks had passed and whenever James passed by Max's elevator, it was still locked. No one had heard from the man or seen him. It made James worried. He couldn't focus on his classes or his studies, even his personal robotic butler noticed his depression and worry. He visited the university after work several times a night, ringing the elevator's bell and hoping Max would let him in. He tried calling, but the man wasn't answering his phone. In the end, James knew he had to see Miles.

He did some research and found out that the man lived just out of town, in a clock tower his father once owned. Putting on a thick overcoat, he drove to the destination one stormy evening. He found the place after some consulting of databases, and carefully approached the door, knocking on it and then ringing the bell. He hoped Miles was home and wouldn't be angry to see him. He sighed when the door opened.

"Miles... Good evening. I hope you don't mind me turning up when the weather is the way it is... I just came to apologise on Max's behalf... He... He's not like normal people. He can act childish and I am embarrassed he offended you. It doesn't look good for the university, or even for us in general. I hope you can forgive me, for I need your help."

Miles had managed to finish up his stocking, but it took three trips, two more than he wanted to bother with. He put in an order for his usual drums of oil and left town with his head buzzing painfully. He barely looked at where he was driving, narrowly escaping the town with his vehicle in full working order. He couldn't stop thinking as he took his several dozen trips back and forth to get everything inside, starting with the cold foods first so he could stow them away safely. The blonde had reacted so... oddly. No, not oddly. Why had Marion wanted Miles to log away every word of every page of the notes he had claimed to have rewritten out of necessity, then burned them? Miles hadn't wanted to put much thought into anything his father did, not after the nightly experiments, not after the 'accidents' and the frustration and the snubbing and isolation. He did as requested and never asked, because asking questions meant talking to his father. And Miles hated talking to his father.

As the days passed Miles couldn't stop dwelling on it. He lubricated the pistons in each room and stared at them for hours. He'd promised himself to begin work on the automaton and put it off for a full week before constructing the base skeleton, which was twice his size and situated in full view in the main entrance hall. Focusing on the work it entailed, the intricate webwork and tubing that would hold the various wiring.

He wasn't sure what the date was, but the clock's copper bells had just finished ringing out six. So it was evidently six in the evening. Sighing and setting aside the monkey wrench, Miles swept his hair back as a knocking sounded out at his front doors. He stiffened, dreading who might be on the other side. He wasn't expecting anyone and no one came to his home unannounced or uninvited. Thunder boomed on his way to the door, and he narrowed his eyes when he recognized the man. His expression softened, however, as the man explained, and Miles sighed, stepping back. "Come in, please."

When he did, Miles closed the door. "I do not care about the status of the college. Its reputation could be good as gold or as disgusting as a big-city sewer and I would neither know nor care. But I do wish to speak to you, if I cannot speak to your Max." He gestured to the home. "I would like to speak to Max personally, but perhaps you should know as well. It seems you are just as involved as he is."

James went where he was directed, marvelling at how well the man seemed to have turned the clock tower into a home. There were elements of an inventor, however, with notes and books, robotic parts and engines stashed almost out of sight. He shook the rain off his jacket and sat, rubbing his temples and wondering how old he looked now. He was getting on in years and even the advances in technology and medical care couldn't prevent death, and he felt it knocking on his door.

"Miles... It's about Max... I fear... I haven't seen him since our meeting in the supermarket. He was distraught..." He blinked, realising his eyes were tearing up. "He's a really good friend of mine, I've known him for a long time... And I know you don't care much for your father, but he was a good friend too. We established the university together, actually... Your father was... Brilliant when it came to Gadgetry. The only other to surpass him was Max. He must have... Stolen Max's notes... I..." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry for getting you involved in matters you'd rather forget. Max is your Godfather after all and I need your help."

Miles sat in front of the man and studied him carefully, clasping his hands together in front of him. He bit his lip, looking between his feet and staring hard at the dark wood. "Well." He said quietly. "Well..." Looking up, Miles swept his hair back again. "Brilliant he was, but you never saw who he truly was. He put on a mask when he left this place, becoming something else. Becoming something... better, perhaps. He was the cause of my arm's amputation. The reason I had to create a prosthetic. He did, in fact, steal Max's notes. He rewrote them in his own handwriting. He forced me to memorize them." Miles tapped the side of his head, pressing down hard and removing his false eye. "This. This is techmergery. My arm, on the other hand, is not. This eye records everything I see, everything I read, and logs it away. I clawed my real eye out when it began failing, and developed this... after I read Max's notes, disguised as my father's. Max is not wrong. His notes were stolen. My father... He never managed to publish them---perhaps he was too afraid to do so. But I never intended to make any of my work public." He placed the fake eye in the palm of his hand, where its pupil blinked a deep red tone.

James was amazed to see the eye up close, the very thing Max talked about making. A working organ, but mostly robotic. He had dreamt it one day, and came running to James with a huge smile on his face. He had dreamt how Techmergery could be possible, he had made his leg with relative success. And Miles... Had managed to get the notes and create something much more complex than a leg. A working eye. He had to sit back and steady his breathing, feeling excited but also disgust at Marion's lies.

"I am so sorry to hear about your father. I don't know what went wrong... When you were born... He was so proud, so excited to raise his son... And he loved you. He loved you so much. He never stopped talking about you for years... But then something went wrong... And he... Changed." He closed his eyes. "The man I knew wasn't the man you grew up with. I am sorry we couldn't have seen it sooner and helped you."

"Max... Is different from others. He acts and talks like a child but really he's... He's almost omniscient. He's had a hard life... Was locked away in an asylum for two decades... He... He was really fascinated by you... Always wanting to see you but Marion wouldn't let him... He... He needs you. I need you... I'm afraid he hasn't eaten for weeks. I... Don't want him to die..."

Miles stared hard at the man before him. He looked, at first glance, young, but there was a dreadful age about him. He shifted so he could replace his eye and rolled it slightly so it fell into place. "The man I grew up with never showed an ounce of pride in me." Miles said coldly. "When he pushed me into the master cogs and amputated my mangled arm himself, he never offered so much as an apology. The man never spoke fondly of my mother, either, and I suspect he was glad when she died. I'm not sure how he hid his disgusting personality from you or from Max, but he certainly didn't try to hide it from me. When I initially refused to read the notes, collect the data in my eye, he forced me over a table and refused to let me up until I agreed. You could never have helped me, and I would not have asked you to if you could have."

He stiffened, sitting upright and staring hard at the man. "I know Max is intelligent. He is extremely brilliant, but I can see where others may think otherwise. If Max needs help, I will help. Why will he not answer to you? You are his friend, I know. I can tell. What makes you think I will succeed where you have, for the past several weeks, failed?"

"The way he talked to you... I haven't heard such dialogue from him in a long time. He usually only says one or two things to me, not full sentences and questions. He feels something for you, something he doesn't feel for me. Maybe he'll answer for you... No, I know he will..." James nodded, smiling weakly. The man had never shown interest in creating a son, but he did have some sort of fondness for his Godson he only met twice before. He was upset at Marion and maybe... If he heard these words from the man's son, he'll let them go up to his study.

"I can take you to the university, if that it OK with you. No one should be around and you can call up the elevator shaft. Maybe if he hears your voice..." He looked to Miles and hoped the man agreed with his plan.

Miles sighed, half in defeat. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his nose and lifted his glasses off his face. "I don't see... how I'll get through to him. I understand what you said, I sincerely do, but you have spent so much more time. I didn't even know you or he existed until several weeks ago. And to be honest none of us left on the most... friendly of terms." He regarded the man carefully. "I will come with you, okay? I will try. I will do what I can. But... will he believe that I used his notes to create this eye?" He pointed at the fake eye. "My father forced me to memorize the notes using this eye. I had it before I had his notes. Before I knew Max's notes existed. What will I tell him if I cannot lie?"

"You should tell him the truth. I'm certain he'll believe you, he doesn't seem to understand lies. He'll want to see your eye and then might ask a few questions. I'll be there to make sure the meeting goes smoothly. But first, we'll need to get him to eat and drink. I might even have to wash him..." The last time Max had been locked away like this was when Marion died. He was a wreck when James checked in on him a month later. "Marion and I are the only ones that can read his notes and understand the language he writes in... He'll believe you whether he likes it or not."

James got to his feet, finding it odd how tired he felt. One day he was certain he would just go to sleep and never wake up. He couldn't bare the thought of leaving Max behind. Maybe... Just maybe he could teach Miles how to care for the strange man, because he was certain Max would live for a very long time, especially once he got his Techmergery notes back. "Shall I drive?" he had his car parked in the driveway, a decent vehicle he had modified to be more intelligent.

Miles didn't follow suit at first. He was sitting stock-still, his eyes watching the ground in front of him as the professor spoke about something in the back of his mind, which Miles barely registered. "This is why I have a strange language in my head that no one else can understand." He said finally. The language in his head, he'd read from various documents. He came to understand it and then find no one else in the world that could. To them it was gibberish, nothing but the babble of a crazy person, so he locked it away and tried to forget it. But if course he couldn't.

He finally stood, sighing and following the professor. "No, I'll take my own." He said, picking his coat off the hook by the door and the keys beside it. "There may come a situation that requires me to come home before you, or on my own. I would prefer to spare you the need to bring me back." He opened the front door, watching the rain fall in heavy sheets and coat the shrubs and trees outside, flow off the sun dial.