[There's a few seconds, after Callaghan leaves and the microbots empty from the garage, where Hiro doesn't move or breathe or say anything. And then he sucks in a shaky breath, untangling stiff fingers from the back of Tadashi's jacket, and says quietly:]

Oh god.

[And then he takes a few more breaths, looks around the room, and it occurs to him that this is maybe, a little, his fault. That he needs to do something about it right now, before somebody gets seriously hurt. He pushes his way out from behind Tadashi and scrambles for a pen, forgetting about Tadashi and the white hot soldering iron lying on the floor and all the little myriad scratches on his hands and every other bit of exposed skin the microbots had been able to reach.

He grabs the nearest rumpled piece of notebook paper he can find and starts frantically scribbling notes onto it, while fumbling for the power button to the computer.]

That's not right. They weren't designed to - ow - to do that, to, to do stuff by themselves. What did I do wrong, where'd the bug come from, why'd they end up like this -