60 miles away a blue vehicle pulls into a small rented home used as a safe house. The garage door closes shut behind the car as a quiet gray-haired woman climbs out of the car and a cute stuffed bear exits behind her. #017 pauses at the door to ensure that the house had not been broken into, the string and tape across the frame were still there. She pauses and leans in to glance at the door hinge where a tiny strip of paper still flutters inside. Satisfied, #017 opens the door and leads the way inside.

Mr. Wilkins coughs politely and says, “Alexandrina, I could have easily checked the house for intruders with my thermal vision.”

“Yes, but I cannot allow for my skills to dull. And Wilkins, though I know you would prefer to call me by that name, we have discussed it, that name makes me uncomfortable. I would prefer to be called seventeen,” #017 said as she drops the keys onto the kitchen table and heads towards the open laptop in the living room.

Mr. Wilkins sighs in exasperation. “Yes, seventeen. But I find a numerical number name not only horrifying but degrading. Can’t you at least pick a normal human name for yourself?”

#017 raises an eyebrow and firmly retorts, “I like the number seventeen and I like it as my name. It’s the first name I have ever chosen for myself and I intend to keep it.”

Mr. Wilkins ruefully shakes his fuzzy bear head and heads towards the front door to grab the packages left there. With ease, he carries a stack of packages not only taller but heavier than him inside. With care, he checks the contents and sorts them out, before a package for himself. Carrying the package away, Mr. Wilkins happily darts into the bedroom to dress. Minutes later, Mr. Wilkins returns in a proper black butler’s outfit with white gloves and all.

#017 who had been getting a water bottle from out of the fridge freezes. “Mr. Wilkins, what’s that?” #017 nervously asked.

Mr. Wilkins soothes out his cuffs and carefully adjusts his cuff links. “It’s simple, seventeen. As your bear, I am your guardian and what better outfit than that of a butler. Besides, I ordered it on the way back from a local store with in store stock. Now then, what would you like for dinner? I can make an excellent scrambled egg and toast or are you in the mood for something more complicated?”

#017 gasps, “You can cook?”

Mr. Wilkins snorts. “Of course, I am man’s greatest AI creation. I merely needed to download the detailed instructions from the web into my system. It seems a straight forward procedure if I do say so myself.”

#017 drily chuckles. “Mr. Wilkins, theoretical knowledge, and practice are two vastly different things. Are you sure you can cook?”

“Yes, I am perfect in every manner,” Mr. Wilkins importantly said. #017 nervously nods and eyes the fire extinguisher on the counter. As Mr. Wilkins begins his preparations, #017 cradles the fire extinguisher protectively in her arms. Sure, enough ten minutes later, the smell of burnt eggs and toast filled the air.

Mr. Wilkins stares dejectedly at the gray, black eggs and the black toast that could be used as charcoal paint. #017 pats Mr. Wilkins on his head and says, “It’s okay. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve been able to fully charge and connect to have a complete access to your circuits. You’ll learn soon enough.”

Mr. Wilkins doesn’t reply as he systematically begins to clean the kitchen. #017 stares at her toes and says, “Mr. Wilkins, even though I am the one who actually killed Gage, you don’t blame me at all. So, please don’t blame yourself. Blame your creators for not being practical enough.”

Mr. Wilkins pauses and says, “You’re right. But seventeen you never killed, my boy.”

#017 stiffens and glances up. “What?” #017 exclaimed with disbelief.

“I was there, I would know,” Mr. Wilkins said as he washes the dishes. #017 expectantly stares at Mr. Wilkins who is silent for a moment. “Seventeen, you are my girl, just as much as Gabe, will always be my boy. And in turn, I am promising to do the same for you, my girl.”

#017 eyes fill with a mixture of emotions at Mr. Wilkins words as he continues. “That day, despite everything that was going on in your mind and body, when your mother and Gabe appeared, you did not attack them. Your psyche and inner-self fought for control, but your heart ignored protocol and would not allow you near them. But in the end, they were unfortunately killed by two stray bullets fired by officers at the scene.”

#017 sits down in the chair and lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought-. I thought all this time, I was the one who killed them,” #017 whispered as she glances at her hands, that still feel as though covered in blood despite all the time that has passed by.

Mr. Wilkins dries the dishes before putting them back in their place. “No, you couldn’t have ever had,” Mr. Wilkins honestly said.

#017 closes her eyes to digest the news as a great weight is lifted off her shoulders. “Thank you, Mr. Wilkins,” #017 sincerely said, before placing a gentle kiss on the fuzzy bear's forehead. A drop of wetness falls onto his fur as Mr. Wilkins ears and tail twitch cutely in reply before #017 returns to her task at hand.

Mr. Wilkins coughs loudly clearing his throat, despite not having lungs or a throat for that matter. Finished, with his task, Mr. Wilkins climbs onto the kitchen table to survey his girl and the area. With ease, he connects to the wireless systems and multi-tasks at the same time, while checking his memory storage.

Flickers of recorded memory races via the electronic circuits mostly of his boy and girl. However, the most recent one was that of his girl returning for him. His girl checks inside of the bear body and finds him, the brain. With ease, she connects the brain to a port. The energy only allows him to communicate for short spurts as they communicate via code, text, or written email. However, their combined efforts allowed them to locate the creator to complete his systems and recharge.

Mr. Wilkins turns his attention away to infiltrating the national database. With ease, suddenly he is everywhere scanning millions of feeds, trying to find information for his girl. His only priority was protecting his girl by any means necessary. There was no protocol limit to that. And if that meant, destroying the world, so be it.