Whatever. Now it’s time to get them out. The ElectriCar will be picked up by a tow truck later today. He doesn’t have to be here for that. The rest of the tools and chemicals and spare parts will be collected, or more likely, thrown in the trash. He just has to gather the toys from his childhood.

He goes over to the clunky old desktop where ISAAC lives and drops his packet of mail on the workbench. He spent a ridiculous amount of time programming in all the interface’s responses on 3.5-inch floppy disks. Now he begins to shut it down, wondering if he should get a box from upstairs or if he should just throw the whole thing in a dumpster.

Then the lights begin to flicker and the door slams shut behind him, the bolt sliding into place automatically with an ominous click.

Anybody else might wonder what was happening. Mouth open, a stupid look on their face, standing there like an idiot.

But Danny’s not that guy. He grew up with this. He hears a mechanical whirring behind him and dives toward a patch of open floor.

Little Waldo, the arm bolted to the workbench on his left, just misses with a claw that punches a deep hole into the concrete wall.

It’s been twenty years since someone tried to murder him, but he’s still got the reflexes.

He stands up and Little Waldo extends itself to its limits, whirring in what almost seems like frustration as its pincers snap inches from his nose.

At the other end of the workbench, the old desktop computer monitor flares to life, text scrolling on its amber monochrome screen so fast he cannot read any of it. The speakers in the workshop pop and hiss, and a staticky voice spits at him.

“Good afternoon, Danny. It’s so nice to see you again.”

It’s not ISAAC. It’s the voice of a ghost. A dead man speaking.

Dr. Edgar Sax.

Which should be impossible, but Danny doesn’t waste much time thinking about it, because he’s got to deal with Big Waldo as it unslings itself from the ceiling. He ducks just in time again, and it only glances against his shoulder. It’s still powerful enough to knock him to the floor, sending waves of pain through his body.

Every electrical device in the place is now fired up and angry at him. The welding torch shoots a white-hot jet across the room. The angle grinders and table saws spin and growl. Sparks fly from a dozen pieces of electrical equipment. Circuits overload and glass cracks and plastic melts.

Big Waldo rotates and stabs out, trying to grab him. He ducks and the claw misses clamping shut on his skull, but just barely.

Danny backs away, to the door. He tries to open it with one hand. Locked.