The robot's voice crackled in my ear through the Bluetooth earpiece, a calm, almost detached presence amidst the swirling chaos of my thoughts. "Mitsuo," he said, his tone unwavering, "I am now departing for school. I will continue to monitor your social interactions remotely."
"Wait, what?" I protested, my voice barely a whisper. "Why are you going to school? I should be the one to go!"
"My primary purpose for attending school today," he stated, his voice devoid of any emotion, "is to rectify the damage to your reputation caused by your display of enhanced abilities yesterday. I will present a series of carefully calibrated explanations and demonstrations designed to reframe your actions as a temporary lapse in judgment, rather than a permanent shift in your capabilities. This will minimize long-term social repercussions and maintain your existing social standing."
I gaped at him. He was going to school to fix my mess? To manage my social life? It was both incredibly helpful and deeply unsettling. "Okay," I mumbled, still trying to wrap my head around it. "Do whatever you want. Thanks, I guess."
When I returned home later that day, the Copy Robot was gone. My room was eerily quiet, the absence of his constant, logical presence almost palpable. On my desk, next to the pile of new gadgets, was a plate covered with plastic wrap. It was my breakfast, untouched. The Copy Robot didn't even eat breakfast?
Besides the breakfast, there was also a small, neatly folded letter. I picked it up, my brow furrowed. The handwriting was mine but...precise. It read: "There is some money beneath your bed. You may use it as you see fit."
I didn't even look under the bed. The idea of using money that the Copy Robot had earned felt wrong. I carefully placed the letter back on my desk and went outside, needing some fresh air to clear my head.
A short while later, my Perman badge started ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the afternoon calm. I answered it, expecting a routine request for help.
"Perman!" It was Payan, his voice tight with urgency. "We have a situation! Terrorists have entered a building downtown and taken the people there hostage! They're threatening to blow it up!"
My stomach dropped. This was serious. This wasn't some petty crime or a runaway cat. This was life-or-death.
"Another headache," I muttered under my breath, my earlier exhilaration replaced by a wave of dread.
"I'm coming!" I said into the badge, my voice firm despite the knot of anxiety in my chest. I transformed into Perman and took off, the wind whipping through my cape.
As I approached the scene, the chaos was palpable. Police cars surrounded the building, their sirens wailing. News helicopters circled overhead, their cameras capturing the scene. A crowd of anxious onlookers was held back by barricades. I saw Pako and Wooby standing near the police line, their faces grim.
Just then, I heard the robot's voice in my ear, calm and steady amidst the cacophony. "Mitsuo," he said, "I have heard everything. I will provide you with instructions on how to proceed."
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Despite the fear and the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a strange sense of calm washed over me. I trusted the Copy Robot. I had to. He was logical, efficient, and utterly focused on the best possible outcome. I affirmed that I had complete trust in Copy Robot to handle this situation without any casualties.
"Alright," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm ready. Tell me what to do."
And the Copy Robot began giving instructions.
The silence in my earpiece lasted only a few agonizing seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Below, the police sirens screamed, and the crowd murmured, a symphony of fear and desperation. I circled the building, trying to spot any weakness, any way in, but the reinforced windows and the sheer height seemed impenetrable. The Copy Robot, miles away at school, was my only hope.
"Mitsuo," the robot's voice finally cut through the static, calm and precise, completely unaffected by the chaos that surrounded me. "First, assess the perimeter. Fly low, but maintain distance. Identify all visible entry points: doors, windows, ventilation shafts. Note any barricades or armed personnel locations."
I did as he instructed, my heart still hammering against my ribs. I flew a slow circuit around the building, noting the heavy steel doors, the barred windows on the lower floors, and the narrow ventilation shafts near the roof. I saw shadowy figures, armed with what looked like automatic rifles, moving inside. They were real. This was terrifying.
"Good," the robot confirmed, his voice a steady anchor. "Now, observe the adjacent buildings. Are there any rooftops within leaping distance? Any potential vantage points for a clear overview?"
I checked, relaying my observations. There were a few, but they were either too far for a direct leap or offered no clear line of sight into the building's upper floors.
"Understood," the robot replied. "Here is the plan. It is a multi-phase infiltration and neutralization strategy designed for minimal risk to hostages and maximum efficiency."
He began to outline his instructions, and what followed was a torrent of tactical data. He wasn't just telling me to punch a bad guy. He was instructing me on entry points, optimal angles for stealth, and even potential weaknesses in the building's structure. He had me flying up, down, around, checking structural integrity, gauging air currents for silent entry. It was like I was a remote-controlled drone, with a super-computer for a pilot.
"Phase One: Infiltration," the robot's voice was sharp, cutting through my fear. "You will enter through the main ventilation shaft on the east side, approximately five stories up. I have identified a specific weakness in its external grating. You will use precise force to dislodge it. Once inside the shaft, proceed directly to the third floor. There is a service tunnel leading to the main vault area. That is the likely location of the primary hostage group."
I took a deep breath. This was it. Every muscle in my body tensed.
"Proceed," the robot commanded. "Execute Phase One."
I didn't hesitate. I shot towards the ventilation shaft, my heart pounding. The opening was just wide enough. I focused my strength, pushing against the grating with a surge of adrenaline-fueled power. With a quiet groan of metal, it came loose. I squeezed in, the metal scraping against my suit. The darkness inside was absolute, but the robot's voice was my guiding light.
"Proceed straight for ten meters. Then turn right. There is a loose panel at 1.5 meters from the turn. It will lead into a maintenance conduit. Be mindful of the internal wiring."
He was telling me exactly where to go, what to do, anticipating every obstacle. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating. I was an extension of his perfect, calculating mind. And for the first time, facing genuine danger, I felt like a true hero.