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“Mind? No. I don’t mind. Dear boy, it’s exceptional!” he said with what sounded like honest wonder and appreciation. It also sounded lucid, and focused, and Edwin was charmed to hear it.
The boy asked, “You think it’s good?”
“I think it must be. How does it work? Do you crank it, or–”
“It winds up. ” He rolled the automaton over onto its back and pointed at a hole that was barely large enough to hold a pencil. “One of your old hex wrenches will do it. ”
Dr. Smeeks turned the small machine over again, looking into the tangle of gears and loosely fixed coils where the brains would be. He touched its oiled joints and the clever little pistons that must surely work for muscles. He asked, “When you wind it, what does it do?”
Edwin faltered. “Sir, I…I don’t know. I haven’t wound him yet. ”
“Haven’t wound him–well, I suppose that’s excuse enough. I see that you’ve taken my jar-lids for kneecaps, and that’s well and good. It’s a good fit. He’s made to walk a bit, isn’t he?”
“He ought to be able to walk, but I don’t think he can climb stairs. I haven’t tested him. I was waiting until I finished his face. ” He held up the metal jawbone in one hand and the two shiny bolts in the other. “I’m almost done. ”
“Do it then!” Dr. Smeeks exclaimed. He clapped his hands together and said, “How exciting! It’s your first invention, isn’t it?”
“Yes sir,” Edwin fibbed. He neglected to remind the doctor of his work on the Picky Boy Plate with a secret chamber to hide unwanted and uneaten food until it was safe to discreetly dispose of it. He did not mention his tireless pursuit and eventual production of the Automatic Expanding Shoe, for use by quickly growing children whose parents were too poor to routinely purchase more footwear.
“Go on,” the doctor urged. “Do you mind if I observe? I’m always happy to watch the success of a fellow colleague. ”
Edwin blushed warmly across the back of his neck. He said, “No sir, and thank you. Here, if you could hold him for me–like that, on your legs, yes. I’ll take the bolts and…” with trembling fingers he fastened the final hardware and dabbed the creases with oil from a half-empty can.
And he was finished.
Edwin took the automaton from Dr. Smeeks and stood it upright on the floor, where the machine did not wobble or topple, but stood fast and gazed blankly wherever its face was pointed.
The doctor said, “It’s a handsome machine you’ve made. What does it do again? I think you said, but I don’t recall. ”
“I still need to wind it,” Edwin told him. “I need an L-shaped key. Do you have one?”
Dr. Smeeks jammed his hands into the baggy depths of his pockets and a great jangling noise declared the assorted contents. After a few seconds of fishing he withdrew a hex, but seeing that it was too large, he tossed it aside and dug for another one. “Will this work?”
“It ought to. Let me see. ”
Edwin inserted the newer, smaller stick into the hole and gave it a twist. Within, the automaton springs tightened, coils contracted, and gears clicked together. Encouraged, the boy gave the wrench another turn, and then another. It felt as if he’d spent forever winding, when finally he could twist no further. The automaton’s internal workings resisted, and could not be persuaded to wind another inch.
The boy removed the hex key and stood up straight. On the automaton’s back, behind the place where its left shoulder blade ought to be, there was a sliding switch. Edwin put his finger to it and gave the switch a tiny shove.
Down in the machine’s belly, something small began to whir.
Edwin and the doctor watched with delight as the clockwork boy’s arms lifted and went back down to its sides. One leg rose at a time, and each was returned to the floor in a charming parody of marching-in-place. Its bolt-work neck turned from left to right, causing its tinted glass eyes to sweep the room.
“It works!” The doctor slapped Edwin on the back. “Parker, I swear–you’ve done a good thing. It’s a most excellent job, and with what? My leftovers, is that what you said?”
“Yes sir, that’s what I said. You remembered!”
“Of course I remembered. I remember you,” Dr. Smeeks said. “What will you call your new toy?”
“He’s my new friend. And I’m going to call him…Ted. ”
“Ted?”
“Ted. ” He did not explain that he’d once had a baby brother named Theodore, or that Theodore had died before his first birthday. This was something different, and anyway it didn’t matter what he told Dr. Smeeks, who wouldn’t long recall it.
“Well he’s very fine. Very fine indeed,” said the doctor. “You should take him upstairs and show him to Mrs. Criddle and Mrs. Williams. Oh–you should absolutely show him to your mother. I think she’ll be pleased. ”
“Yes sir. I will, sir. ”
