It might seem silly to post this now or at all, but I did write it, and it was going to be Edelweiss’s first encounter. Today, I just don’t seem to feel like doing anything. I need to write another thousand words, but my mood went sour, so I don’t want to push it. There’s still time left in the day, and it’s the weekend.
One of the quietest advances made in the field of organic robotics was the “sleep” function. Even non-organic devices needed to be shut off as part of routine maintenance. But the dolls and butlers of the world had human shapes and faces. Their sleep functions allowed them to dream.
Edelweiss, named after the flower, stirred in her sleep. Her gears clicked quietly, steam hissing gently through her veins. Purists claimed the system was a minute mockery, while others lauded it as a miracle of technology. Edelweiss thought of it only when it required repairs.
Her dreams were more florid than they might have been. After all, she was a masterpiece of aesthetic, the solid dream of a mad poet with a spanner. Her eyes were perfect glass spheres, hand-painted to imitate the real thing while bragging to surpass it. Her hair, made of copper beaten to a softness not meant for metal, kept its shape whatever she endured.
Images of fire ripped through her clicking, whirring mind. Shouts turned to screams.
She sat up as though spring-released. The sounds of battle were no deep imagining. John’s side of the bed was empty. He must have said something to her to make her go on sleeping.
Cursing the parameters she could not consistently control, she rolled out of the bed, and improvised a tunic from one of the sheets.