The thing is made of gears and springs and cogs and things.\u00c2\u00a0 It stands like a man, it shakes hands like a man, but it smiles nothing like a man.\u00c2\u00a0 When it smiles, it shows bolts and electrical wires and mechanical innards, no teeth, no lips.\u00c2\u00a0 And it smiles broadly, as though the girl, Ramona, might actually be impressed.\u00c2\u00a0 It takes much more than an animated mechanized man to impress a girl like Ramona.\u00c2\u00a0 She sips champagne and stares at this smiling clockwork thing and says to its alchemist creator, \u201cI see nothing of magic.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the old man smiles, his teeth are crooked and yellowed and, in some places, rotten, but they\u2019re human teeth, like those of a real man, and they blend perfectly with the cracked lines of his face and the tatters he dons as clothes.\u00c2\u00a0 The rest of the market bustles and shifts and dances and barters and drinks and all those things markets do, but for the old man, the self-proclaimed alchemist, all but two things in the whole universe have ceased to exist: his creation, and the girl Ramona, daughter of a nobleman, a girl with cash, a girl sipping expensive bubbly French wine.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cA mechanical man requires much by way of magic,\u201d he says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cYou must blend the herbs and the metals perfectly, at just the right temperature, lest you end up with something too brittle, or something too soft.\u00c2\u00a0 You must rub the oils of your fingers, your sweat, your blood into the gears.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s gears,\u201d Ramona says.\u00c2\u00a0 She\u2019s really looking at the thing, too, examining the exposed insides where the final plates have been removed to show, looking closely at the gemstone eyes.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cThose aren\u2019t diamonds at all,\u201d she says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s glass.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course it\u2019s glass,\u201d the alchemist says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cHave you ever tried to look at the world through diamond eyes?\u00c2\u00a0 They fracture everything.\u00c2\u00a0 You couldn\u2019t see any better than a common housefly.\u201d<\/p>\n
The mechanical man extends its hand to shake.\u00c2\u00a0 It speaks in a stilted, electrical voice, pronouncing each word too precisely.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cHello.\u00c2\u00a0 My name is Stan.\u00c2\u00a0 I am at your service.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ramona does not shake hands.\u00c2\u00a0 She says, \u201cMy name is Ramona, and you are not yet my servant.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRamona,\u201d the mechanical man repeats.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me something,\u201d Ramona says to the mechanical man, almost whispering into the holes that serve as ears on the sides of its smooth, ovoid head.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cTell me something I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCyclones in the northern hemisphere,\u201d the mechanical man offers, \u201crotate counter clockwise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOxygen is the eighth element.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething else.\u201d<\/p>\n
The head moves, the glass eyes rotate, and the mechanical man says, \u201cI like the tattoo on your shoulder.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ramona steps away from the mechanical man and turns again to its creator.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s science,\u201d she says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cNot magic at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
The old man shows his worn teeth again.\u00c2\u00a0 The expression would almost be friendly if not for the underlying current of exasperation and, quite distinctly, annoyance.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cPerhaps if you believe in such things as science,\u201d he says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cBut could your science give it breath and dreams?\u00c2\u00a0 Could your silence make it feel?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes it feel?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStan,\u201d the old man says, turning and looking up into the eyes of the mechanized man.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you feel, right now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight now,\u201d it says, \u201cI feel curiosity, and embarrassment, and remorse, and love.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRemorse?\u201d Ramona asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cRemorse is an ill-fitted word,\u201d the mechanical man says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cIt would be better, perhaps, to say that I feel contempt at myself for being less than a flesh and bone man.\u201d<\/p>\n
The alchemist frowns.\u00c2\u00a0 Ramona says, \u201cI don\u2019t think I expected that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither did I,\u201d says the alchemist.<\/p>\n
\u201cI feel despair,\u201d the mechanical man says.\u00c2\u00a0 \u201cAnd hope.\u00c2\u00a0 I do not believe I was meant to feel such combinations of emotion.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re just a machine,\u201d the old man says, \u201cshaped by my wrench and soldering gun.\u00c2\u00a0 You cannot feel all this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause of me?\u201d Ramona asks.<\/p>\n
The mechanized man turns its head, as though looking away coyly, and says, \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ramona takes another step back, crosses her arms, scowls for a while, and asks the old man, \u201cHow much did you say you wanted for this smiling clockwork thing?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"