[My dearest Emily,

Tonight will mark the end of a life long dream of mine. The completion of a labor I began as a child, even before I knew the words for it... before I knew the ways to accomplish such a task. And even now my heart is heavy with dread. I fear I've built a great and powerful evil. Or rather, together, Albert and I have bult it. I know that I am to blame. I allowed Albert to persuade me to change the designs. I allowed this perversion of my course. This new machine that we've built is unlike any I ever imagined. It looks... like a man. A lifeless steel man. Albert convinced me that even with the new Geological Unmanned Terraforming System we designed, the task of extracting the ore is still too dangerous for a human. He plans to completely replace human workers in the mining sector. The idea of displacing so many men... the annihilation of countless jobs in the name of safety seems an unbalanced trade off. What is worse, the latest prototypes have been revised to carry small firearms. Emily, I fear that I have put you and this entire city in danger. I will speak to him tonight on the matter. Perhaps I can persuade him to scrap the whole project. In the meantime, please be careful. This world is getting darker all the time. I weep at the thought of something terrible happening to you. I could not bear it.

All my love,
Tom"

In a workshop in a building overlooking the city
Two great men argued over whether or not to turn the wheels......]

Tom:
My father worked the mines until the day it took his life.
It stole him from his only son and it stole him from his wife.
And I swore upon his grave, someday I would make things right.

So I learned how to bend steel. I learned how to make it move,
and I watched as it withstood all the hell we put men through.
With hands of iron, there’s not a task we couldn’t do.

They’ve waited so long for this day,
Someone to take the death away,
No son would ever have to say,
“My father worked into his grave.”

Albert:
Tom, listen to yourself, then listen carefully to me.
If you replace the working parts, you get a different machine.
The man who turns the wheels, they will follow
Anywhere he leads.

We’ve spent our whole lives searching
For a way to make a better world.
Giving everything to them, asking nothing in return.
Well here it is: our chance to take back everything we’ve earned.

Tom: They’ve waited so long for this day (Albert: They’ve waited so long for this day)
Someone to take the death away (There is no price they wouldn’t pay)
No son would ever have to say, (For someone else to lead them)
“My father worked into his grave.” (Don’t turn your back on me!)

[Light walked slowly to the window overlooking the city. He knew he had no choice but to turn on the machines. They'd come so far. To turn back now would be failure. Failure of his promise to the city. Failure of his promise to his father. Failure of the promise he'd made to himself.]

What will I become with the things I will create?
I never said that men should bow. I never said that men should break
I only want what’s best.

The one I love, she works so hard, she works her fingers till they bleed.
Some of the pain that she endures would bring a strong man to his knees.
I only want to help.

(Albert: You are a fool) You underestimate the character of man.
(Albert: They are weaker than you think) You think that they’ll surrender if you bind their working hands.
But they are strong (Albert: Just wait and see)

We will build cities in a day (Albert: Man would cower at the sight)
We will build towers to the heavens (Albert: Man was not built for such a height)
We will be heroes! (Albert: We will BUILD heroes!)

[Tom reluctantly reached out his hand to the wall and pulled the large metal lever.
For miles, lights flickered under the sudden strain as the machines were brought to life.]

They’ve waited so long for this day,
Someone to take the death away,
No son would ever have to say,
“My father worked into his grave.”
Men sleep tonight with hands of bone
They will awake with hands of steel
And with these hands we will destroy
And with these hands we will rebuild
And we will stand above our city,
Rising high above the streets
From tops of buildings we will look
At all that lies beneath our feet

We will raise our hands above us
Cold steel shining in the sun
And with these hands that will not bleed
My father’s battle will be won

[As Thomas Light left the workshop, descended the stairs, and walked out in the cold night air, his partner surveyed the machines they had spent their lives creating. His gaze shifted from one pair of lifeless eyes to the next, until he came upon a single red light shining through the blacked-out blast shield of a dark green helmet. He shuddered. This was the new face of fear. He quickly turned to exit, the machine striding stoically a few steps behind. The two men were both headed to the same place.

Thomas Light walked slowly through the darkened streets. His mind was racing. His decision, right or wrong, had been made. Nothing could undo it now. He spoke to himself in hurried, hushed tones. Weighing the consequences of his actions. A familiar automobile passed him in the darkness. He was too lost in thought to take notice.]

Tom:
What have I done?
Though I did not pull the trigger, I built the gun that he holds in his hand.
Last night I dreamed I climbed to the top of a mountain of metal
and for miles I could see the destruction of man.
I will not be the father of death.

Darling Emily, everything that I have done, I have done for you,
but it’s turned out all wrong.

Can I take it back? Can I turn off this machine
before it destroys everything that I’ve loved?

I will find a way to make this right!
I will find a way, Emily.
I will not be the father of death!

[Emily Stanton climbed the stairs to her beloved's apartment, a folded letter in her hand. Tom had been so busy with his work these last few months, they'd barely seen one another. This, instead, was how they'd communicated. The door at the top of the stairs was cracked open. She called out to Tom as she entered the darkened room. A man was bent over the desk rummaging through the drawers frantically. It was Albert Wily. He turned, startled, and looked at Emily; the hint of a smile crossed his face. He motioned, not at Emily, but at the figure standing in the shadows behind her. The machine shut the door obediently.]

Emily: What are you doing here? (Albert: Let me take you away.)
I’m not going anywhere. (He will be nothing when this runs its course.)
He will be everything that a man
is supposed to be.

If the shadow blocks out the sun… there will be Light!
If it stays ’till the sun is set… there will be Light!
If the sun never shows its face again… there will be Light!
No matter how dark the city gets… there will be…

[Albert Wily's eyes grew cold as Emily's rejection of him became clear. He turned to the machine standing at the door and quickly slid his finger across his own throat. The robot moved silently towards Emily as Wily slid through the window, onto the fire escape, and into the streets below. Emily ran to the window, following his escape, but the machine was too quick. Its cold hands caught the soft flesh of her arm. She opened her mouth to scream but the warm tearing of a cold blade across her neck aborted the sound.

Even as Thomas Light climbed the stairs to his apartment, he sensed something was wrong. He opened the door, crossed through, and locked it behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the first thing he made out was a red light pulsing slowly on the fire escape. A moment passed as Light tried to reconcile the image of a machine he'd just left at his workshop, with the figure now towering outside his window. His gaze drifted from the shaded helmet of the machine to its hand and to the knife it gripped, dripping deep crimson droplets onto the toe of its black boots. The machine tossed the knife in through the window, and leapt to the ground below. Light's eyes followed the arc of the blade to the floor, to Emily.

Sirens approached in the distance.

Thomas held his darling Emily in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. Shaking silently.

Footsteps rang out from the stairwell. A fist rapped violently against the door. Thomas didn't notice. He slowly brushed the hair from Emily's face and kissed her forehead. A single tear falling from his own eyes to hers. In her hand, a folded letter with his name scrawled carelessly on the front.

The sound of the door splintering finally shook Light from his mournful reverie. He pocketed the note and lowered his love to the ground as he inched slowly to the edge of the open window.

His actions were met with the hollow click of rounds being loaded into chambers. He began howling incoherently to the policemen about renegade robots and red lights in blast shields. The only responses he received were nervous faces and fingers inching toward triggers. In grief and desperation, Light turned and threw himself from the window.

Shots shattered the hush of the sleeping city.

Light's tumbling body flattened the roof of a car parked below. The air was thrust from his lungs. His right arm was shattered, but he was alive. He rolled from the car onto the shards of glass lying on the street below, shredding his hands and knees. Gasping for air and retching violently on the pavement, for the first time in his life not thinking about the future, Light scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the darkness.]

[Hours later, from the broadcasting room at the tower at the center of the city...

Albert Wily was born for this moment. He answered the reporters' eager questions about the disappearance of his partner calmly and evenly with the story he'd rehearsed. Inside he was teeming with contempt for these men who were turning the story from the real headline: the unveiling of his newest marvel. A giant telescreen just above their heads, mounted to the top of the building, would within minutes broadcast information non-stop to every citizen of the city. No matter. Soon these men and their questions would be obsolete. He reluctantly turned his own statements to the media frenzy at hand.]

Albert:
Tonight the streets are red
The lights are blue and blinding
No sign of the “Good Doctor”
But the siren’s wail and whining
Tell us he’ll be found

[He made his way to the window overlooking the city.]

I can almost hear the hounds…

[He turned back to the reporters.]

What kind of man builds a machine to kill a girl?
No, he did not use his hands
Like a smart man, he used a tool
But just the same!

How can you question who’s to blame?

Reporters:
What was her name?

Albert:
It doesn’t matter.
Now listen…

“The Good Doctor” has to pay!

[Stepping away from the throng of reporters, he looked at the digital countdown above the nerve center of his broadcasting controls. He whispered quietly to himself...]

When I say he was a monster
When I set fire to his name
It does not matter where you hear it from
Whether truth or lies, it gets said all the same

[Glancing once again at the countdown, he spoke plainly to the reporters.]

Whatever’s on the table plays!

[1 minute, 46 seconds until the broadcast would begin.

Wily shut the door on the tumult of voices continuing to shout questions after him. He walked down the empty hallway and around a corner and into the studio adjacent to his control room. A pane of double-plated glass sealed out the bedlam of the reporters. He watched as their mouths continued to hurl impotent questions.

In the silence of the studio he didn't bother trying to make out what they were saying. His eyes focused on a blinking red light above the digital countdown. He spoke aloud. His words bounced off the soundproofing glass. The cameras weren't yet rolling. The microphones were not yet active. His words went unheeded for the last time.]

There is a flame I’ve been fanning
There is a fire waiting to catch
There is a hell that has been building
From the moment we first met

[58 seconds to air.]

If there ever was a time,
If there ever was a chance,
To undo the things I’ve done
And wash these bloodstains from my hands,

[49 seconds to air.]

It has passed and been forgotten
These are the paths that we must take
Cause you and I, Tom, we are men
And we can bend and we can break

[40 seconds to air.]

If you think that you can run,
If you think that you can stand,
Well you forget who turned this city on
You forget who plugged this city in!

[30 seconds to air.]

They’ll not switch it off again.

[He straightened his tie, knocked the wrinkles out of his suit jacket and faced the camera lens.]

One by one they’re tuning in.

[15 seconds to air.

At this very moment - his moment of glory - he wished he could be out in the streets of the city. He wished he could hear the hum of a thousand tubes, powering the screen, popping to life and warming up simultaneously... wished he could feel the wave of sound as they drew the attention of every person within the walls of the city. His city. He wished he could float above the streets as every person walked from their homes, left their dinners, their polite conversations, their lives. Wished he could be there as they filed out into the streets, fixed their eyes on the giant screen, and waited.

3 seconds...

But Albert's place was here. His time was now. He cleared his throat.

The red blinking light went solid...

Outside, on the giant screen, Wily's face came into focus. For the first time, the people of the city looked to one man. They saw the face of a leader. One man towering above the city.

After a few inspirational opening lines, Wily turned his attention to the matter at hand. Thomas Light. He assured them that the murderer would be apprehended. He promised them that their city would be made safe again. They trusted him completely.]

[Thomas Light was picked up three days later in a beggars' cemetery. Emily Stanton had been buried there an hour earlier. She had no family. Her few acquaintances from the factory were busy covering the hole she'd left in their workforce. A few unmoving passages were read by a disaffected priest as her body was slowly lowered into the cold ground. No one but the men paid to cover her pine casket with earth heard his words. Even those were drowned out by the more urgent ones booming from the large telescreen.

An hour after the ceremony, Light stepped out of the tree line just beyond the grave. He staggered to the mound of freshly moved earth and fell to his knees, tears pouring from his eyes onto her grave.

The police, too, had been waiting. He didn't resist. The trial began within the week. The media circus was phenomenal. The city saw a demon portrayed on the screen. Every shred of evidence was dissected and rebuilt to incriminate him. Constant news, facts, and rumors were forced upon and absorbed by the masses.]

Tom:
Emily, the crowd has gathered here
But it is not because of you
Emily, the taste of blood in their mouths
I can’t imagine what they’ll do
But it doesn’t matter what they’ll do to me

Emily, have they forgotten you
When they set their sights on me?
They will hang me from the rope tonight
Will you be waiting there for me?
Will our souls remember where we said we’d meet
On the way out of this town?
I’m leaving one way or the other, Emily
There’s nothing left here for me now

Emily, it’s so quiet now
It’s like the calm before a storm

They will punish me for what he did to you
But either way it’s all my fault
‘Cause I made the man who laid his hands on you
And I would tear him down, but I feel like a dead man
And what can a dead man do?

Emily: This is not your fault!
Tom: I’m leaving one way or the other, Emily
Emily: This is not your fault!
Tom: There’s nothing left here for me now

[Turning his attention to the proceedings...]

Here comes the blow.
We find the only man who loved her…
We find the only man who’d give his life
To see her once again… We find this man
Emily: Not Guilty!
Tom: Guilty… I am Guilty!

[The judge entered his chambers. The lawyers and jury filed out of the courtroom, leaving Light, a free man, sitting silently behind the defendant's table. The sound of the mob outside was deafening. Even from within the thickly marbled walls of the courthouse, their rage - their sense of injustice - were palpable.

Throughout the trial, the telescreen had told them that their judicial system would ultimately fail them, that the laws of the city were flawed, skewed to shelter monsters like Light, powerless to protect the people. Impotent. Weak. Dangerously out of touch with the times. Obviously, the screen had been telling the truth. Now, it was telling the masses that they would have to take matters into their own hands if justice was to be served.]

[A small contingent of policemen nervously escorted Light to the door of the courtroom and out into the mob.]

Human choir:
Give us the doctor!
Give us the rope!

[Light was shuffled through the crowd and into an awaiting car.]

Give us his hands!
Give us his feet!
Give us the doctor!
Give us the rope!

[The car maneuvered slowly through the sea of people.]

Give us a grave!
Give us a shovel!
Give us a marker!
Give us the doctor!
Give us the rope!

[Light and his police escort slowly moved south through the streets of the city. The commotion of the crowd finally faded in the distance. With every man, woman and child at the courthouse, the streets they traveled were empty and deserted. Knowing that the crowd would surely be following, they accelerated rapidly towards the old train station. Light's only chance was to get out of town.

The station was oddly quiet. Vacant. In the distance, however, he could hear the crowd advancing. Following. A crushing fear overcame his crippling apathy. He quickly stepped from the platform to the waiting train. It was completely empty. The doors shut and the engine hissed and pulled away from the station. Light looked across the skyline to the tower he'd helped create. His gaze climbed to the top and stopped at the giant screen. Albert's face was screaming at the crowd. Whipping them into a frenzy. This was his city now.

Light was gone.
His name destroyed.
His work stolen.
His love murdered.
But the city...
The city was alive.]

[The movement started slowly at first, but soon expanded exponentially into every part of life. The old commuter train that bore Light to his exile was bought and the track scrapped and recycled to make way for a shining electromagnetic bullet train. Sleek and silver, it tore through the city like a volt across a wire, and as quickly as it moved, the city was transformed around it.

Beneath the hammers of Wily's new army of metal workmen, buildings were razed to the ground, leveled in a single morning. New foundations were laid in the same afternoon. Structures, metal frames piercing the clouds, were erected before nightfall. Glass and steel wrapped the frames before the sun rose the next day. Then the armies of machines would move onto the next task. Never stopping. Never slowing. Never resting.

Morning after morning, the men and women of the city awoke to find a bright new world. Everything was remade. Made better. Made brighter. The streets were swept. The undesirables, the homeless, the criminal element of the city, systematically vanished.

The single screen on top of the tower sent out signals to the now hundreds of satellite screens. The factories were fully automated. The mines run entirely by machine. The men that found themselves suddenly living lives of leisure crowded the bars, slowly imbibing the generous severances they'd received, not so much as a single ill word grumbled towards their replacements. The city was a bright and shining beacon of light... a steel-plated heaven.

Years passed.

A generation grew up within the metal arms that embraced the city. The older generations never told them what the city looked like before the machines. Why would they? What good could come from telling the children of the type of dark, filthy, and dangerous world that men create when left to their own devices? That once men slaved away deep inside the earth, risking death for the sake of survival. That once women left their children, still asleep in their beds, to grind away mindless hours in the factories, sacrificing family to secure necessities.

This new world was so perfect that it seemed dangerous to speak of the old world. As if this new city, sprung from a sea of darkness, was balanced on a single point, teetering on a crucial ignorance. It seemed that any misstep, any wrong word, could topple the city, sinking it back in the sea, that dark abyss of human suffering, leaving them with nothing. After all, they were not the creators of this world. They were merely the recipients of a gift. A gift given to them by a single man and his countless steel hands. And just as easily as it was given, couldn't it be taken away?

An unspoken fear dangled above the heads of every man and woman. Keeping them silent. Keeping them safe.

Even so, rumors started. Ghost stories of a demon. A beast with a single red eye. He that would pluck you from your bed at night if you were found with a dissenting word on your tongue. Mothers told children to stay close as they traveled through the streets, keep a smile on their faces, and never speak ill of the machines.

A generation grew up inside the metal hands that gently circled the neck of the city. Some of them grew up hating the city, fearing the machines. There was one boy in particular. His name was Joe.]

Joe:
The city doesn’t know what’s coming,
She doesn’t feel the heat
The city won’t know what hit her
What knocked her out into the street
The city is thinking that it’s over
She’s already fast asleep

So I’m breaking out of here tonight
I am, I am, I am ready!

We’re given only what we need,
Only the chance to survive
And even then, it’s a coin toss,
A roll of the dice
There’s gotta be something better,
Something that feels more alive

So I’m breaking out of here tonight,
I’m breaking out of here

You gotta feel it, girl,
Feel the wind pick up
It feels like something’s gonna change
(Something’s gotta change!)
But there’s no use putting it in drive
If all the wheels are stuck

There’s somethin’ wrong here
(Something’s wrong here!)
Like this whole city wants to scream,
But no one makes a sound

But you’ve gotta feel it, baby
(Something’s wrong here!)
So I’m gonna find out what it is,
And I’m gonna tear it down

[Joe turned to a girl who'd been ignoring him all night, leaned in, and whispered in her ear.]

The engine’s runnin’, baby,
We don’t have time for goodbyes
I know you can’t come with me,
I see that look in your eyes

So kiss me fast, ’cause there’s no time to lose,
Leave the light on, I’ll come back for you,
When everything is said and done,
I swear I’m gonna make it right!

Cause I’m breaking out of here tonight
I’m breaking out of here tonight
I’m breaking out of here tonight
I’m breaking out of here tonight

[Joe leaned in and stole a quick kiss from the girl. She smiled and made a move to slap him but he was already out of reach. He kicked the door open and tore out into the dark streets. Fire in his blood. He didn't know exactly where he was going. Only that he was moving. And moving was something. That the slight breeze against his forehead meant that something was changing. He raised his voice, crying out against the quiet, constant hum of the city. From the windows, high above the streets, a few concerned women called out to him to keep his voice down. For his own sake. For all their safety.]

And I’m so tired of giving up
I am so tired of giving in
You wake up knowing things should change,
Not knowing where to begin
This city won’t say where she’s going,
She won’t speak of where she’s been

So I’m breaking out of here tonight,
Break out…

[Withoug noticing where he was heading, he'd reached his home—or his former home—his  mother's house. She'd vanished three years ago. He hadn't been back since. His father had been gone for nearly ten. Heading around back, he made a straight line for a small workshop, set apart from the house.

His father's motorbike was there. A relic. A gas engine bolted to an iron frame. He kicked the engine a few times and the bike reared to life. As he turned onto the street and opened the throttle—the sound of combustion savaging the silence of the night air—he could almost make out the sound of the collective gasp let out by the neighborhood. He could almost imagine window after window opening above the street line. Frightened face after frightened face leaning out into the bright glow of the streetlamps. Timid voice after timid voice telling him, speaking in unison.

A chorus of fear.]

Human choir:
(Don’t turn your back on the city)
(Don’t turn your back on the city)

[Joe ignored the voices. He thought perhaps he was the only one who hadn't turned his back? He kicked the shifter.]

Say a prayer for all the children still sleeping
(Don’t turn your back on the city)

[3rd gear.]

Say a prayer for all the fathers who still remember
(Don’t turn your back on the city)

[4th gear.]

Say a prayer for all the girls who’ve learned to stand up
(Don’t turn your back on the city)

[5th.]

Say a prayer for all the boys who won’t surrender

Sometimes I just wanna drive until the streets run out
I want to burn until there’s nothing left to burn about
This city’s waiting for a better day
When I get back, there will be hell to pay
But if I’m the only one left standing, I will not be afraid to fight
I’m breaking out of here tonight

I feel a fever coming on me, burning out of control
Then I hear nothing but the static (Nothin’ but the static!)
For years, there’s been nothing but the static on the radio

So if you can hear my voice outside these walls (Hear me!)
If you can hear me sending out this message tonight
Then break the silence, send a signal back (Hear me!)
I’m coming, all I need is I need a little guiding light

If you can hear me…

(Don’t turn your back on the city!)
Then break the silence, send a signal back
(Don’t turn your back on the city!)
Break the silence, send a signal back
I’m coming, all I need is a little guiding light

(Don’t turn your back on the city!)
I’m coming, all I need is a little guiding light

(If you can hear me… Don’t turn your back on the city)

[Store fronts gave way to warehouses.
Warehouses to abandoned factories.
Factories to the slums of the city.

He'd followed the line of the electric rail for almost an hour. The outskirts. A place to which men now rarely ventured. The dark streets flickered under failing street lamps. Away from the machines. Away from the people trying to keep him silent. He should be feeling free. He wasn't. He was feeling something else. A wariness. A hesitation. Joe let off the throttle. As his father's bike slowed to a crawl, he understood that feeling he'd had ever since he decided to leave the city. That hesitation he'd felt was the knowledge that he was being watched. Watched when he'd kissed the girl at the bar goodbye. Watched when he'd left his mother's house. Watched even now... Miles from the heart of the city.

A face in the shadows...

He stopped the bike in the middle of the street, silenced the engine, and lowered the kickstand. There was no traffic. No metal footsteps patrolling the streets. But the familiar sound of the telescreens reached even here. Joe stood watching the face on the screen. It babbled incessantly, but said nothing.

Over the sound of the screen, Joe heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, echoing from the darkness of the alleyway. Kneeling down, Joe placed one hand on the street beside him, the other reached for the knife in his boot. He recalled the stories the children of the city loved to repeat about the red eyed assassin. "Light's Monster", they called it. The footsteps emerged from the darkness of they alley and into the uneven glow of the flickering street lights. Joe stood, his hand loosening its grip on the knife.

It was a gray-haired man.

Joe was about to speak when the old man lifted a finger and pointed past him into the darkness. Joe turned to see a single red light pulsing from the depths of the alleyway behind him.]

Joe:
I’ve seen your face in the shadows
I’ve seen your face in the places I wasn’t meant to be
I’ve heard them whisper about you
I’ve heard the men in the bars
And I’ve seen the women lock their doors at night

Lock your doors tonight

They say your eyes are on fire
They say you’d kill a man for walking the wrong side of the line
Wrong side of the line
But men, they say a lot of foolish things
And in the end the only words I can find to believe in are mine

They say…

Human choir:
This city, she’s been dead for years now
So death is not something that scares me
There’s worse things than death here (Joe: They told me…)
Keep quiet…

Joe:
I will not be told where to stand!
I will not be told what to say
Not by man or machine
Not by you, not by anyone tonight!

You’re gonna have to do better than fear
You’re gonna have to step out of the shadows and fight
And when they see your face again
They will know what it means
To have fear dragged out into the light
Drag it out!

They say…

Human choir:
This city, she’s been dead for years now… for years now
So death is not something that scares me… that scares me

So come on!
Come on!
Step into the light!

[The red-eyed assassin stepped from the shadows. He'd been keeping pace with a motorcycle racing at top speed for an hour, yet he showed no sign of fatigue. The gray-haired man watched from the alley tensing visibly as the machine revealed itself. Joe slowly backed away from the bike, deliberately withdrawing towards the gray-haired man in the alley. He stopped as his foot brushed against something solid.

The sniper robot's hand never once went for the gun at its side. It leaned in, a large blade clenched in its left fist, waiting for the proper moment.]

Human choir:
This city, she’s been dead for years now… for years now
So death is not something that scares me… that scares me

[They circled each other.]

Joe:
There’s worse things
Than death here
There’s loss and there’s silence and sadness

[Joe's hands were shaking.]

So come on,
Come on,
Just open your mouths and revive it.

[Joe leaned forward and charged towards the machine. If he was going to die, he would go down swinging. He plunged his shoulder into the chest of the automaton. With every bit of strength he could summon, Joe thrust upward, and both man and machine left the ground in an arc. By the time they slammed back into the asphalt, the machine was on top, its cold hands tightening around Joe's neck. The impact sent the pipe bounding far from Joe's reach. Joe's fingers clawed at the smooth metal covering the machine, searching for a chink in its armor. His hand found the gun instead.

The light of the blast was painful, even through Joe's closed eyes. He opened them slowly. Carefully. He found the machine lying several feet away, immobilized, with a smoking hole in its chest. Its red eye fading and flickering. Joe rose. He approached the machine. He pointed the gun at the robot's head and slid his finger over the trigger, steeling himself for the blast. The gray-haired man stopped him. The man knelt down - his face inches from the machine's - and spoke, his voice gruff and trembling.

"I built this. It's mine to destroy."

With surprising speed, his right hand shot to Joe's boot and withdrew the knife. With his left hand he grabbed the machine by the jugular-shaped electrical conduit at its throat and sliced. A single swift blow. The eye went dark. The machine was dead.

The two faced each other in the middle of the street. Joe's labored breaths drowning out the telescreen in the distance.

"My name is Thomas Light..."

Returning to the lifeless machine at his feet, Light motioned for the speechless Joe to assist him. Together, they dragged the remains of the murderer out of the light and into the protection of the alley. Light sheathed the knife into Joe's boot holster and turned back to the machine. He examined the assassin for a few seconds and nodded. With a few deft motions, he detached the dark green helmet from the body of the robot, tossing it to Joe.

"Here... try this on."]

Joe:
This city’s sleeping like a soldier trapped inside of an iron lung
Machines can keep you breathing, but what happens when you find a new war’s begun?
Flip a switch and turn it off, you won’t be able to breathe
So either way you’re a casualty

I’ve got this burning like my veins are filled with nothing but gasoline
And with a spark, it’s gonna be the biggest fire they’ve ever seen
Cut me down or let me run, either way it’s all gonna burn…
The only way that they’ll ever learn

We’ve got to turn it off
Flip a switch

Light up the night!

There is a city that this darkness can’t hide
There are the embers of a fire that’s gone out,
But I can still feel the heat on my skin
This mess we’re in, well you and I,
Maybe you and I,
We can still make it right

Maybe we can bring back the light

Tom:
At the heart of the city there is a building that looks down over all there is
And the man in the tower controls it all without raising a single fist
It’s like they gathered up the city, they sold it to the devil, and now
It’s gone to hell and they wonder how

Well, a friend once told me:
Men, they would follow any man who would turn the wheels
Now the wheels are spinning out of control; what would they do if we held them still?
If you destroy the working parts, what you’ll get is a broken machine
A beacon of light from a burning screen

Light it up
Light up the night

Together:
There is a city that this darkness can’t hide
There are the embers of a fire that’s gone out
But I can still feel the heat on my skin
This mess we’re in, well you and I,
Maybe you and I
We can light up the night

[They made their plans carefully. Spending hours on the details. If Joe could reach the main telescreen on top of the tower in the center of the city - Wily's tower - he could take out the central transmitter. He could stop the broadcasts going out to the satellite screens. He could stop the broadcasts going out to the machines. He could take out Albert's eyes.

With Wily blinded, Light could reenter the city undetected. He could complete the task that he had obsessed over for more than twenty years. He could kill Albert Wily. A prisoner caged on the edge of the city, this was Light's chance. His chance not only at freedom, but to exact revenge. To kill his judge, his warden, and the man who'd built his prison. To destroy the man who'd taken everything from him - his life's work, his name, his love.]

There is a city that this darkness can’t hide
There are the embers of a fire that’s gone out
But I can still feel the heat on my skin
This mess we’re in, well you and I,
Maybe you and I
We can light up the night

There is a city that this darkness can’t hide
There is a fire that will burn through the streets of the city,
And we will stand in the light
We will stand in the light
You and I, maybe you and I
We can bring back the light

[With Wily's assassin out of the way, they had a small and rapidly closing window. The sniper robot would soon be missed. Their plan finally secure, Light locked the green helmet under Joe's chin and handed him the bag of explosives. "Go!" he shouted.]

[Joe kicked the motorcycle's engine back to life. He spun the bike and raced towards the city. Passing under the cold glow of screen after menacing screen. Reports coming in of an incident in the outer rim. Reports of an armed assailant. Reports of a growing threat to public safety.]

Human Choir:
Climb.

[Joe tore through the streets. A missile aimed at the metal spire towering above the city. The great steel arm holding a torch of fear. The main telescreen was designed to be visible from almost anywhere in the city. The destruction of that screen would be felt by every man and every woman in the city. He thought of the children. How, for the first time, they would know a world without that screen. Without the constant, mind-numbing barrage of misinformation. Silence. Had he ever encountered silence? Soon.]

Climb.

[The street was ending. Joe revved the engine. No hesitation. No fear. The motorcycle bounded over the curb, launched off the steps in front of the tower, and landed jarringly upon the hard, slick marble of the plaza. Losing traction, the tires skidded out ahead of the heavy iron frame. The bike pitched. Joe kicked hard against the bike. Inertia kept him glued to it. He rolled over on to his stomach and clawed frantically at the smooth marble, trying to slow himself.]

Climb to the top of the world.

[The bike would not be slowed. It slid rapidly toward the main entrance. The steel doors secured tightly for the evening. The wheels caught on the final few steps leading up to the doors. The bike spun upright and left the marble floor. 600 pounds of iron and chrome roared, end over end, towards the entrance, crashed into the steel doors, and exploded. Joe's momentum halted just inches from the steps. Sirens erupted around him.]

And as you stand tall, you will see…

[He pushed himself to his feet and ran towards the flames. Hurdling the mangled carcass of the bike, he entered the tower lobby and headed for the stairs. Flight after flight, Joe took two and three steps at a time. His chest nearly collapsed under the strain. His legs never hesitated. Finally, he reached the door leading to the roof. Joe kicked hard and stepped into the cool night air. He had to act quickly. He threw his bag down next to the transmitter. Reaching inside, he wrapped his hands around the detonator. Holding it tightly, he turned and started back to the stairs.]

That when you fall…

[He'd taken three long strides when the explosion ripped his feet from the tarred roof. Joe didn't hear the explosion. The shock wave of the blast knocked him unconscious instantaneously.]

You will fall from a height most men will never reach.

[Light had nearly reached the plaza. He watched as the flames erupted from the top of the shimmering tower, setting aglow the clouds above. Among the debris cast off the bulding by the explosion, he spotted what could only be a human body, twisting lifelessly as it plummeted towards the earth. Light held onto the hope that the falling body was not the one he feared it must be. As it approached the ground, Light's fears were confirmed as he made out the glare of the flames above reflected in a scarred blast shield. He watched as Joe's body landed with a dull thump upon the small patch of grass in a courtyard on the south side of the building.

By the time Light had reached the boy's body, a crowd had gathered. As he stood in the center of the circle of onlookers, another explosion rattled the ground. Then another. And another. In the distance he could see, one by one, the telescreens splintering and erupting into flames.]

[Light understood immediately. No mistake had been made. This was all occurring as part of Wily’s design. A man who’d spent all of his life fearing and planning against his loss of control could not be undone by a lone boy and a bag of explosives. Light’s eyes turned to the east. The industrial complex on the edge of the city. From a tower in the center of the complex, a red light pulsated. A second transmitter. They’d stopped nothing. Light fell to his knees and cried out into the night. He’d sent this boy to his death. The enormous loudspeakers, mounted to the steel walls surrounding the complex, began to howl. A voice followed the sirens.

Although difficult to make out amidst the commotion that surrounded him, Light heard enough to understand. He could make out the words, “threat to the safety of the city.” He heard, “insurgent forces.” He heard the loudspeaker commanding the frightened men and women of the city to return to their homes or risk being counted among the criminals. Even from the courtyard, Light could make out the thousands upon thousands of green-helmeted robots marching from the steel gates of the complex. Wily had built a fortress. He had built an army. He had been waiting for this moment to unleash it.]

Light:
Emily, a crowd has gathered here
And once again they fail to see
You can’t just set the world at someone else’s feet
And not get trampled underneath
And I think somehow Joe knew it
He paid the price he thought he had to pay
But Emily, that debt was meant for me
That debt was meant for me

This is not the world my father knew
This is not the world, I know,
He would have wanted me to build
But I can’t undo it now
It’s like a train, and all its cars are filled with steel
That I would stop if I knew how
And it is bearing down on me

So I will stand here with my shoulders square and tall
And when the whistle blows, not falter
But when the crash comes, I will fall
With so much steam and steel behind it
I won’t slow it down at all

Oh, God…
Oh, God…
Here comes the arm

[The building above Light shuddered. The weight of the screen and the metal framing that surrounded it overwhelmed the now destroyed upper levels of the building. He heard the sharp crack and whine of bending steel. He felt the quake of thousands of pounds of metal crashing into the earth and the marble surrounding him.

The explosion of steel and stone sent the crowd fleeing in all directions. Light barely noticed. The world had been crashing down around him for more than twenty years. He placed his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, its creases cracked and splitting. He carefully unfolded it.

Soon, he would be with Emily. Only now could he summon the courage to read what she had written to him all those years ago. Only now could he bear to read her words.]

Emily:
Thomas, please don’t cry for me
I know you never meant for this
I love you completely
Just remember that if I should leave you now
Then in my final hour
I pray this letter finds you well before it all goes to hell
He could never cage the world
It’s too big for anyone, and soon the dark will pass
I want so much to be with you, but in my heart, I know,
Tom, the city needs you now

The city needs you now

[Amongst the turmoil and destruction, he could just make out the screams for help coming from every direction. Tom scanned the desperate and terrified faces of the people running past. He gazed once more into the flames reflected in the blast shield that covered Joe’s face. He unlocked the helmet and removed it from the boy’s head. Light looked at the bruised and battered face of a hero. A hero the city had lost. He spoke:]

Light:
Joe, when you see Emily
Tell her to wait for me
‘Cause I still have work to do.