Prying away an old grate with the bloodied shovel, Awkward and Cataldo headed into the sewers. The air was thick and rank. Sewage flowed in a thin but deep stream down a wide corridor. The pair began walking along the sides, their hands running along the brick walls, wet with condensation from the foul humidity.

From where we crashed it's a bit of a trek through the sewers. Probably 10 miles, as the robot-crow flies, but I can't calculate for the twists and bends of the sewers. This trip could take all day.

Good.

Johnny's people will probably find us before we find them. I can't guarantee they'll be friendly. Or sober.

Fine.

Listen, Awkward, have you ever thought about just making a new Sally-bot? I remember the design. Pheromone secretion unit, flexible hip joints...

Awkward stopped walking and sighed.

... the parts could be gathered at local scrap-yards. Junction Bay, Chugoton. I've seen lubricant barrels at both yards. Definitely enough litres to last the winter. I'd need to verify, but there's a very good chance for recreation.

John suddenly noticed Awkward wasn't walking beside him. He turned to see Awkward staring at an old photograph that he must have printed off a long time ago.

You can't remake a robot like that, John.

Are the original schematics lost?

No, no, I still have those tatooed on my back. You can't remake Sally-bot because you can't remake a memory. Yes, Sally-bot is steel and bolts and grease. But I remember buying that steel. I remember the day I bolted her together. She's not the essence of those materials, she is a specific configuration of matter and memory. You can't rebuild that. Just like you can't rebuild your daughter...

Awkward handed John the photo. It showed a younger Cataldo holding an infant girl. The photo was black-and-white, probably due to an old Instagram filter.

Nevertheless, John wept. He also decided not to question why Awkward had a picture of him and his daughter.

I haven't told you about the device Mr. C wants me to work on, John. Do you remember the cacophonous synth-plague of '22?

Yes, of course. They exiled Trademark after that. Made him live in the bushes.

The synth-plague got into people's brains. Made them increasingly angry and irrational until eventually they lost complete control of their minds. Their bodies still functioned but there was no discernible brain activity. We burned these bodies to stop the plague from spreading.

Yes, I said I remembered. I burned many myself.

A few bodies were left behind to study. They experienced a strange side-effect. The plague's nano-bots took over the dormant brain and reconfigured the bodies they now inhabited. Limbs moved in slight motions. Faces mouthed soundless words. Machines became flesh and flesh became machine. Panicked, we burned the bodies immediately. But I remember what I saw. The device I made uses elements of the cacophonous synth-plague. It allows a robot to receive a... uh.. sample of your DNA. The robot processes that sample and produces -

A child...

Yes.

You want to have a child with Sally-bot...

A daughter.

John wept.

You son of a bitch.

I haven't tested it, John. I don't even know if it works.

How would it even work? This whole premise sounds ridiculous.

Nano bots... ? I think... That and, you know, the DNA.

I believe you.

Mr. C wants me to reverse the process. I don't understand what that means.

I don't either. But we need to find Johhny and his hobos. It's the only chance we've got.

Suddenly a group of hobos burst forth from under the sewage like clowns from a disgusting clown-car. In the middle stood a bearded hobo with an eye-patch. He held a revolver in one hand, and a bottle of synth-whiskey in the other.

John wiped the sewage off of his face.

Crazy P. You've arrived earlier than I expected.

Johnny looked at Cataldo and spoke.

I've listened to your plan. I'm in.

Cataldo looked puzzled.

I know we have a history, Johnny, but this seems awfully hasty.

I suppose it does seem hasty. But look at it this way: this chapter is already plenty long. My men and I have been hiding under raw sewage while you two have been having an action-stalling hear-to-heart. So let's just assume you convinced me. I'm in.

Alright. I guess we should figure out a plan of attack. Do you have any thoughts, Johnny?

I figure there are two ways. We either ride the hover-train right up their ass, or we swim under the sewage right up into their ass.

Awkward and John looked at each other. They knew what had to be done.

IF YOU WANT AWKWARD, JOHN, AND THE HOBO ARMY TO RIDE THE HOVER-TRAIN RIGHT UP THEIR ASS TURN TO PAGE 542.

IF YOU WANT AWKWARD, JOHN, AND THE HOBO ARMY TO SWIM THROUGH SEWAGE RIGHT UP INTO THEIR ASS TURN TO PAGE 699.

IF YOU'D RATHER SKIP THE TREK TO MR.C'S COMPOUND AND INSTEAD HAVE A BACKSTORY ON MR. C TURN TO PAGE 21231.

RESULT: THE FORUMS VOTED FOR PAGE 21231.