Mechanical Daughter

a story
mature
2014-09-16 05:54:00,
2016-02-29 19:32:19
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      Meredith was working in her office, rewriting some of her earlier automaton programming scripts. The click-clack of her special typewriter filled the room with unimaginably long reams of paper. Next to her desk were letters the she wrote to her sister in Golah when she couldn’t code anymore.

      She checked the clock on the wall. “Maybe he forgot, I should go see.”

      She wrote a note, placed it inside of a small capsule, and placed that onto a tube on the wall. When she flipped a switch, a vacuum came on and sucked the capsule up the pipe.

      A few minutes later, Buford knocked on her door. “I was finishing up with the seamstress. The little dear had a nasty incident in the kitchen.”

      Adele, their mechanical doll, didn't so much walk as she did nearly dance into the room. She was dressed in a green and gold peacoat dress. Her engine was humming along and her face, though static, was looking about curiously as always.

      Meredith couldn’t help but smile when she saw the darling. Programming Adele felt more like play than work. She’d rather be doing some new experiments than working on the scripts BA’s customers were paying her to write.

      Lucas checked his pocket watch, “Enjoy yourselves tonight.”

      Meredith looked her over, “Well, yet again you’re showing me up in the fashion department. I don’t exactly have your doting father. Let’s go home little moon.”

      The Grand Theatre in Gearford was putting on a rendition of Noutt Rythjuverka, the Kuuvian epic. Buford asked if Adele could accompany her to the show, knowing that Meredith often patroned the theatre.

      Meredith already had her ticket, but Lucas forgot to give her the money early, so Adele had to purchase her own ticket tonight, an interesting exercise in social programming.

      When Adele got to the front of the line, Meredith watched as she put her hands on her hips and puffed her chest up. Her body language was of anger and strength.

      The people behind them were restless and confused, “What’s wrong? Hurry along!”

      “Give her a second,” Meredith scolded and then turned to sign, “come on little moon, prioritize.”

      She was gathering a huge library of permanent routines, and two of them were in conflict. The ticket booth was “manned” by a Cerillius industries automaton. It took a good minute or two before Adele reached the conclusion that her task of purchasing a ticket was more important than her task of intimidating the competition.

      Meredith patted her on the head, “I know that was hard dear. Sometimes we have to be civil in the face of our enemies.”