The lights around the convention stage dimmed, leaving only a soft band of white cutting across the platform. A murmur rippled through the crowd as the announcer's voice echoed across the hall, calling the next presenter.
Dexter stepped out from the side aisle alone.
Tall, confident, and carrying the quiet sharpness of someone who belonged in a lab more than on a stage, he crossed the floor with a microphone in hand. No one in the audience seemed to recognize him; he was just another young inventor stepping forward, though his posture suggested he was aiming far higher.
He stopped at center stage, cleared his throat, and spoke with a steady, composed voice.
"Good evening. My name is Dexter… and today, I present an innovation designed to redefine modern engineering."
A soft whirring filled the room. From behind the curtain, a sleek, streamlined motorcycle rolled out on its own, guided by invisible commands. A few people in the front rows leaned forward, surprised at the autonomous entrance. Susan and Harold exchanged a stunned look; Dee Dee lifted her brows. Further back, Hiro nudged Tadashi, unable to hide a grin of curiosity. Even Lisa, watching from beside her family, straightened slightly at the unexpected movement.
The bike halted beside Dexter with perfect precision.
"This motor," Dexter said, placing a hand on the chassis, "is the first step toward adaptive robotics embedded in everyday machines."
Murmurs spread across the room.
"Did it drive itself?"
"That… wasn't remote controlled, was it?"
"This is the Adaptive Reconnaissance Cybernetic Entity. Arcee for short." Dexter said. "Engineered for high efficiency, adaptive terrain control, and integrated AI-assisted navigation. It is built to outperform conventional vehicles in speed, responsiveness, and power distribution."
The motorcycle responded to his words, shifting its posture with a soft mechanical hum, drawing a few scattered gasps.
Dexter paused for a heartbeat before allowing a subtle smile.
"But," he continued, "that is not all."
A current of quiet anticipation moved through the hall. Even Krei and Callaghan standing behind the technical judges, lifted their heads with renewed interest.
"In a world where robotics power our homes, our industries… even our boxing rings," Dexter said, letting his voice settle into the silence, "we asked a simple question."
His hand lowered toward the motor unit.
"What if your vehicle could do more than drive?"
The machine unfolded.
Panels shifted, pistons rotated, lights flared to life in a cascade of mechanical motion. The motorcycle rose and separated, limbs forming, chest locking into place, eyes burning bright as the chrome silhouette straightened into its full, humanoid form.
Arcee stood before them.
A breathless wave moved across the theater, not screams or chaos, but pure, stunned awe. Hiro's jaw dropped. GoGo blinked hard. Wasabi actually stepped back. Even Fred involuntarily whispered, "Whoa…"
Dexter let the moment hang, perfectly timed, before delivering his final line with absolute calm:
"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the next evolution of intelligent transport."
Arcee held her transformed stance with precise mechanical grace, her optics glowing in a calm blue as the audience stared in stunned silence.
"As impressive as her transformation is," he continued, "functionality is the true measure of innovation."
As Dexter spoke, she shifted slightly, turning her head toward the audience with a smooth hydraulic hum. Then she lifted one hand and gave a small, graceful wave.
"Hello, everyone," Arcee said, her voice clear but gentle. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Gasps and startled murmurs rippled through the room.
As Arcee finished her friendly wave to the audience, a fresh ripple of awe spread through the hall.
Sheen, who had already been vibrating with excitement, suddenly couldn't contain himself anymore.
He grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders, both hands and shook him with the force of a caffeinated earthquake.
"JIMMY! THE ROBOT CAN TALK!" Sheen shouted directly into his ear. "SHE TALKED! DID YOU HEAR THAT?! SHE TALKED!"
Jimmy's glasses nearly flew off.
"S–Sheen—! Stop—shaking—me!" he sputtered, wobbling like a ragdoll. "Advanced vocalization doesn't automatically imply superiority!"
But his argument didn't land as well as he hoped mostly because Sheen was still shaking him like a maraca. "But Jimmy, she waved! And said hello! Jimmy, HELLO!"
"YES, I HEARD, SHEEN!"
A few nearby students chuckled, while Lisa had already taken out a small notepad, sketching rough diagrams as she spoke under her breath. "Transformative chassis… autonomous mobility… decentralized AI. Interesting. Very interesting."
Onstage, Dexter continued unfazed, he'd learned long ago to ignore chaotic background noise.
"As you can see," he continued, stepping confidently toward her, "Arcee is capable of naturalistic communication protocols. She can hold conversations, respond to social cues, and interact with her operator in ways current robotics systems cannot begin to approximate."
Arcee extended her hand again, palm open. Dexter stepped into it, letting her lift him above the stage in one smooth motion. The lights caught on her metal plating, giving her an almost ceremonial presence as Dexter addressed the hall from above.
"Unlike the government-issued sentries currently deployed in select zones," he said, "Arcee isn't a machine designed for the masses… or for military oversight."
His voice carried with sharper clarity from his elevated position.
"She is personal, responsive. A guardian tailored to the safety of her operator. In emergency conditions, Arcee can shield, evacuate, and counter threats with more adaptability than the modern sentry units without the cold detachment that often comes with centralized AI."
Arcee closed her fingers slightly around him not in a restraining gesture, but in a protective cradle. The audience murmured, startled yet mesmerized.
Dexter's parents were less subtle.
"That's my boy! Look at him up there!" Harold shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.
Susan just pressed her hands together, beaming with pride but Dee Dee was operating on an entirely different level.
She stood up on her seat.
Then, with a dramatic fwip, she unfurled a glitter-soaked homemade banner that sparkled under the stage lights:
GO DEXTER!!!
(doodles of hearts, stars, and a strangely muscular stick-figure robot)
"WHOOOO! THAT'S MY BROTHER!" Dee Dee yelled, waving the banner like she was trying to signal planes.
Glitter rained everywhere as people ducked.
Even Arcee paused mid-idle animation, optics flicking toward the commotion.
Dexter turned, mid-presentation and spotted it.
His eye twitched.
A single, visible twitch.
The exact face of a boy who respected science, precision, dignity… and had just been publicly glitter-bombed by his own sister.
He sucked in a slow, pained breath.
"…Dee Dee…" he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched into a thin smile no one on Earth could mistake as genuine. "Why must you always do zis…?"
Dee Dee beamed and waved harder, as if that made it better.
Dexter turned back to the audience, trying— failing to pretend nothing happened and simply continued.
"Arcee is equipped with adaptive shielding protocols, predictive hazard assessment, terrain reconfiguration systems, and a behavioral model designed to respond with human-level intuition. She isn't built to replace you."
He paused, allowing the words to resonate.
"She's built to protect you."
Arcee gently lowered him back to the stage, her movements smooth, controlled, almost deliberate in their grace. When Dexter stepped off her palm and onto the platform again, he placed one hand on her arm, grounding the presentation with an air of partnership rather than superiority.
"And with modular upgrades," Dexter added, "her capabilities will only evolve. She is not a final product… she is the beginning of a new era of intelligent, human-centered robotics."
The crowd erupted not into chaotic cheers, but into genuine applause, the kind that carried awe, curiosity, and the first sparks of industry-shaping interest.
Even Callaghan and Krei, standing yards apart, had the same rare expression: The look of men who understood that something new had just entered their world.