“What… is that?” said Lady Spir, when her husband brought his new purchase into their drawing room. A new toy to show off at the next gala.

“It’s quite new, my love!” said the Baron with a child-like glee.

The servants had pulled the crate apart, leaving the pile of wood and packing twine in a pile on the black tiled floor.

“That’ll show that pompous DownTowner Lupen!” said Baron Spir. “He’ll be white with jealousy.”

My fool husband things he’s a disgrace because he lacks toys… she said to herself. We are doomed. Our house will fall if he doesn’t grow up… Unless Lady Spir did something drastic.

“Its wonderful sweetheart!” she lied. And a massive waste of funds. “But what is it?”

She gathered her gown and circled the new toy.

“It’s an Automata!” he squealed.

The Technician of the House stepped out of the shadows. He was an Exposed teenager, a impudent child that did not understand courtly manners. Endowed with technical knowledge as a first language.

He grimaced, terrified.

Maybe that’ll whip him into shape. The boy had grown complacent. He knew his own world’s technology better than most Technicians, but this? This was alien. Good.

The automata was a serving machine. An ornate rechargeable butler and hostess.

A standing suit of bright blue-silver armor, shaped like a beautifully built woman. Between joints were wires and cables. Its chassis of bare metallic breasts, a naval and swooping hips was a homunculi conception of womanhood.

It’s face, a polished smiling doll.

Lady Spir grimaced.

Something drastic would need to happen in order to save their house from itself.


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