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turned and trundled off in that direction.
    â€œLeft.”
    It went left.
    â€œLet’s pop a wheelie.”
    The little bot executed a slow 360.
    â€œGod, it’s working.” Chuck Brenton’s airless whisper issued from the lab doorway.
    Technically the last move hadn’t worked, but still Dice was pleased. He glanced up. Dr. Brenton and his senior assistant, Eugene, stood staring at the now-motionless robot.
    â€œOh, hey. Sorry, Doc,” said Dice. “I just wanted to make sure it works before we have you try it. I hate it when the machinery flakes during a demonstration.” He switched the Brewster to standby and reached up to unfasten the neural array.
    â€œThat’s a good look for you,” said Eugene.
    After two weeks of close proximity, his flat, nasal voice was only minimally irritating. His sarcastic attitude . . . well, Dice had to admit, it had sort of grown on him.
    â€œI’m thinking that’s a great sideline,” Dice came back. “While the good doctors are making millions with their oh-so-helpful and socially redeeming technology, I figure we market the blinky net as the latest in futuristic fashion.”
    Dice helped Dr. Brenton don the net and position the transceivers. With the BPM on, Brenton turned to face the robot. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Okay. What do I do?”
    â€œSee the little red joystick on the top of the carapace?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œYou just think about operating it.”
    â€œAs if by hand.”
    â€œExactly. The kinetic converter will take a second to establish your baseline, then it should respond to your directions.”
    Dice watched the neurologist closely. He was half-afraid the guy was going to hyperventilate and pass out. He didn’t, though. He faced the robot with a look of intense concentration.
    Roboticus responded—tentatively at first, then with more certainty. In about three minutes, the scientist had the little bot running straight lines at flank speed and weaving slowly around obstacles. At this point Chuck was seized by a sudden fit of laughter that left the robot quivering in the middle of the lab.
    â€œCan I try it?” Eugene asked.
    IN THE END THEY ALL tried it and then sat down and came up with a game plan. Matt would compose a précis for prospective investors, Dice would begin generating code for a computer interface that would give them access to commercial software controls, and Chuck and Eugene would continue to expand their experiments with Roboticus and a variety of their subjects—experiments they would, of course, record.
    â€œNot,” Eugene noted, “that anyone will believe what they see in a video.”
    Matt shook his head, his fingers already flying over his laptop keyboard. “They won’t have to commit funds on the basis of a video. We’ll let them try it live.”
    Chuck frowned. “We’re going to bring them here? Matt, that’snot going to work. I mean it’s not kosher to use Johns Hopkins resources to start up a private business.”
    â€œWe won’t be using Johns Hopkins resources. The first thing I’m going to do is lease this rig.” Matt nodded at the brain pattern monitor, his mind racing ahead, making connections, calculating potential. “The next thing you’re going to do is figure out how to downsize it, so we can fit it into our own lab.”
    â€œOur own lab,” Chuck repeated as if Matt had just said “our own space station.”
    â€œOf course our own lab. You didn’t imagine we were going to continue to work out of Hopkins, did you?” Matt shook his head and dove back into organizing his précis.
    I have a lot to teach them, he thought.

Chapter 4
FORWARD KINETICS
    Our own lab.
    The words had a sort of magic to them, Chuck thought. Their own lab had a name, Forward Kinetics, and it stood at the center of a technology park (emphasis on park