The City in the Sky

Mulligan walked down the dark alley, his gun drawn. The murky corridor looked as common place and benign as any, but somehow, he could sense something was wrong. A quick check of his pistol confirmed a ball was in the chamber. Feeling reassured he proceeded forward unable to distinguish anything distinctly through the dark and fog. After several yards a shadowed figure bloomed out of the blackness. It was humanoid in shape and seemed to be in a prone position. Mulligan took aim and yelled, “Don’t move!” at the motionless figure. No response came to his command. He took a few more steps towards his target.

“help..me...”

The words came in a whisper from his left. With a start he spun training his weapon to the source of the sound and, much to his trepidations, found it. Lucy’s wan face hung suspended in air. Devoid of expression, its eyeless sockets stared into the space occupied by the now petrified detective. Unspeakable horror washed over him as her mouth moved like a puppet’s, independent of any visible control.

“help..me..”

Before he could react, something stirred in his peripheral vision to the right. He turned to meet it, but was too late as the headless corpse swung the knife towards Mulligan’s eye.

James bolted upright with a splash. His hand reached futilely for his face attempting to fend off the specter. From somewhere he heard Lucy faintly singing. The water had grown tepid. Mulligan quickly grabbed the white terry cloth towel beside the tub and wrapped it around him. Still shaking from the dream and the cold he stumbled to his bedroom down the hall. He sat on the bed for a few moments to get a hold of himself before using the towel to carefully dry the knee. Then, after recalling Dr. Drakolisk’s admonishments, he took great pains to oil it as instructed. He put on his maroon silk pajamas that Lucy had laid out for him and made his way down the creaking wooden stairs to the sitting room. The fire still crackled warmly, although much less fervently. He went to the handsome mahogany wood buffet and poured himself a glass of gin before slumping onto the red velvet couch in front of the fireplace. Mulligan stared into the fire hoping to divine his answers from the dancing flames. Even the savory smells of dinner which tantalized his nose could not budge his mind from the questions that tore at it like a pack of wild dogs.

“Dinner is ready, Sir.”

Mulligan almost dropped his glass as he was so engrossed in thought he had not even noticed Lucy had entered the room.

“Mmhmm, yes, thank you, Lucy”, he managed upon recovering. He found it hard to look at her as he was still trying to shake the haunting vision of her disembodied face.

“You’re welcome”, came the cheery response, and she turned as if to go back to the kitchen.

“Lucy, wait.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Can I ask you a question?“, he said and patted the vacant space on the sofa next to him.

“Of course, Mr. Mulligan”, she said with a smile. She sat on the sofa, turned slightly towards him. She seemed so demure yet approachable wearing an expression which James could only describe as concerned optimism on her delicate features. Once again Mulligan saw a flash of woman in the machine and quickly looked down into his glass of gin afraid that he may start believing such illogical nonsense. He struggled for a few moments trying to rephrase his question into different variations before finally settling on “Is it true that Clockworks have emotions?”

The question sounded so ignorant he was worried it may have blundered into the realm of the offensive, but to his relief Lucy gave a tinkling laugh.

“Oh, Mr. Mulligan. You want to know if we can experience the biochemical human phenomenon called ‘emotions’? No, of course not.”

The statement could have been derisive, but Lucy’s matter-of-fact, upbeat tone dismissed any such notions.

She continued, “However, we have been provided with the ability to emulate many such emotions to help facilitate our acceptance into human society as was deemed necessary by our Creator.”

“So you ‘feel’ things you would describe as love, hate, happiness, anger...fear?”

Lucy sat quietly for a moment of contemplation before responding, “I would say so, as the situation dictates.”

“And would you say these feelings are similar to a human’s response to a given situation?”

“That is difficult to say, Mr. Mulligan. I can no more tell what goes on inside a human than one human can from the next.”

The observation caught James by surprise, but seemed true enough given the subjective nature of an individual’s experience. Having laid the ground work, he decided it was time to satisfy his curiosity.

“Lucy, have you heard about this business with the ‘Clockwork Slayer’?” He felt himself staring into her eyes as he asked the question hoping to catch the faintest glimmer of emotional response, but he hadn’t needed to. In return she did something she had not done in the three months James had known her: she frowned. It was something of a shock to see the corners of her mouth turned down, her brow furrowed. Even her voice had changed tones, taking on a flatness Mulligan had never heard from her before.

“Yes Sir,” she said in hushed tones, “very nasty business, indeed.”

James felt a bit remorseful as he pressed on with his line of questioning. “When you think about this ‘Clockwork Slayer’, would you say you feel... ‘afraid’?”

“The prime directive of any Clockwork is self-preservation. The ‘Clockwork Slayer’ would be considered a direct threat to that so, yes, I would say the situation calls for the emotion know as fear.” Her demeanor had become so despondent that James was seized by a yearning to comfort her and apologize for his insensitivity. But before he could put thought into action, Lucy’s eye had risen to meet his. The carefree smile had returned. “Shall I finish dinner, Mr. Mulligan?“, she asked.

“Oh. Yes, of course. And Lucy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please call me ‘James’.”

She smiled warmly before replying, “Very good, James.” And with that, she turned towards the kitchen leaving Mulligan alone to commune with the flames once more.

Though he felt his knowledge was still lacking, the conversation had left him with a better understanding of Lucy and all Clockwork-kind. By instilling them with emotions, the Clockwork creator had provided them with an effective tool to incite human empathy thus further safeguarding their chances of survival in society. Making them human in appearance and gender specific seemed like a stroke of genius to Mulligan, who now could see why they had such staunch support from certain elements of the community. Conversely, he wondered how others could be as equally as venomous. For every organization which supported the Clockworks, it seemed there was one that opposed them. Of course, it didn’t help that the Clockworks had been steadily increasing the price of coal. This was one of the main reasons it was frowned upon to mix with the automaton population on any level as in many a mind it had created an us versus them conflict. Certainly, some of it stemmed from old prejudices passed on from one generation to the next. To understand such irrational hatred, Mulligan realized he would have to delve deeper into the Clockwork record. He resolved to do some research after dinner.

They sat down to eat at the opposite ends of the long kitchen table as had become their routine. Lucy gave a short supplication to the Clockworks’ human Creator, Ayumu, as all Clockworks did. Mulligan was thoroughly bemused by the custom, but, being a tactful man, never said so lest he offend. Upon finishing, she commenced in her dainty way to spoon bits of coal from the bowl in front of her to her mouth being ever so careful to not spill any on her dress. Such an enigma she was to him. It seemed to him that she had materialized from the ether. A machine in possession of beauty and grace that would put most mortals to shame. She drew from a well of kindness that seemed almost infinite. Mulligan found her easy going nature contagious and felt every second in her company was a pleasure. Yet, in spite of all of this, he knew very little about her. She had given a brief history of employment on her resume, but beyond that her past was a mystery. Age and name to a Clockwork were irrelative in the human realm. Most of them were approaching a century but showed no signs of aging, and their names were typically self-bestowed and often changed as the bearer saw fit. Some of them banded together under a surname in the pattern of a human family, but Lucy had not listed any other names at the time of her application, nor had she brought them up in their subsequent conversations. Mulligan felt torn between the detective in him who demanded answers and the civilized man who reminded him how it was impolite to pry.

“...something wrong, Mr. Mul..I mean, James?”

It quickly became painfully clear that he had been blankly staring across the table at her as he was delving into his thoughts. He promptly averted his eyes and felt his face flush, but as he looked at her once more to apologize he found her expression held no reproach.

“No. No everything is wonderful, thank you, Lucy.”

He picked up his knife and fork and stared at them for a second as he regarded his distorted reflection in their silver luster.

“James?“, Lucy’s voice sounded hesitant.

Mulligan’s eyes rose to meet her own, but found her to be gazing at the bowl of coal that sat before her. Her hand had set the spoon down and now rested on the table.

“What is it, Lucy?“, he asked trying not to let his imagination spawn what was coming next before Lucy had a chance to elucidate.

“I..just..“, she began but broke off as if she were afraid to let herself voice the words she sought to speak. For his part Mulligan welcomed almost anything she might have to say. Those months spent eating his meals alone had brought a new appreciation for any conversation that might be shared during these simple moments of domesticity. And he was overjoyed to have found Lucy to be, at the very least, an interesting conversationalist. She had surprised him more than once with a question that the average person would find to be a bit ‘out of the blue’.

“Lucy, I know you may feel that our relationship is too professional to ask questions of a personal nature, but let me put all that to rest. I enjoy our conversations and I want you to feel that you can speak freely around me. Please ask what you’d like to know, and if it’s a question I can’t answer I’ll just decline to do so. Fair enough?′

Lucy nodded and let her copper eyes meet his own green ones.

“It’s just that I’ve noticed you seem so sad sometimes. Can you tell me why she left?”

Mulligan wasn’t completely surprised by the question, but he felt his cheeks flush all the same. If Lucy had a blush response perhaps hers would have done the same. James could make out the unmistakable sound of remorse in her voice as she quickly added, “I..m sorry, Mr. Mulli.. James. I shouldn’t have asked that. I was out of..”

“No”, said Mulligan firmly, raising his hand to cut off what would surely be an extensive apology. “I gave you explicit permission as I recall.” He felt a smile creep onto his face in spite of the burning in his cheeks. He did not relish talking about such a painful subject, but at the same time he felt his intrigue grow. Here was someone that couldn’t even truly be classed as human taking interest in his personal emotions. For some reason he suddenly felt more comfortable discussing the issue with his clockwork maid of the past three months than he did with any of his longtime acquaintances at work.

“Well, honestly I’m not completely sure, but”, he began and then stopped, uncertain of how much she could possibly understand in the matter. “You have been around humans for a long time now, right?”

Lucy nodded.

“Then perhaps you have occasionally seen examples of what we humans term ‘love’.”

Lucy nodded once more but said nothing. Mulligan tried to ignore how unnerving it was to have those shining copper eyes boring into him, hungry for what he might say next.

He cleared his throat and went on. “Love is like.. a fire. Sometimes it takes some effort to get it started and sometimes it erupts suddenly, with great fury. But once it gets started it merrily burns spreading warmth and happiness to those who bask in it.” Mulligan stopped for a moment hoping that his analogy didn’t sound too ridiculous, but Lucy showed no indication of contempt, so he pressed on. “However like all fire it’ll eventually start to die if you don’t feed it fuel. I think that was the problem, perhaps I should have stoked the fires more. But I guess I couldn’t tell there was a problem until it was too late. You see, the embers still burned inside me, but they must have gone out inside of her. I’m afraid in my complacency I failed to notice..”

“But Mr...I mean, James. Isn’t everyone responsible for feeding their own flames, like I’ve been doing by eating this coal?”

Mulligan almost laughed at the childishness of the question. It looked to be as he feared: his explanation of a distinctly human problem couldn’t penetrate her Clockwork sensibilities.

He couldn’t help but smile at her as he said, “If only it were that simple, Lucy”.

Lucy smiled back at him, unfazed by his dismissal of her suggestion. “May I speak freely once more, James?”

Mulligan could only wonder what might be coming next, so he simply replied, “Of course, Lucy”.

“I still don’t understand why she left you. I think you are a very kind person.”

James could only sit in stunned silence. Once again she had caught him off guard. Could it be she was complimenting him? Was she expressing some kind of interest in him? He felt awkward, excited and happy all at once. He wanted to ask her more, but the moment had passed. Lucy had already resumed spooning bits of coal into her mouth. Mulligan’s stomach reminded him that he had not put the knife and fork he still held in his hands to use. Not knowing what else to say, he dug into the pot pie that Lucy had prepared for him. Though it had grown somewhat cold, it still warmed his insides and tasted like manna after the past week of shoddy dining taken on the run. For a brief moment, Mulligan reveled in the feelings of peace and contentment that had been seemingly absent from his life for some time.