The Silencing of Springs

[Silence_Burnlance]

Chapter One: Samantha Greensong

Twelve screws, eight springs, two broken clock faces, and five fragments of Fog rock. That was all Samantha had found for her collection over the last two weeks.

Samantha Greensong, a girl of seven, crept about in the shadows of the large, dull interior of Greensong Manor. Daily she practiced her stealth against the automaton doormen, strange visitors of her father, and the master of the home, Autofficer Joseph Greensong.

Samantha had no true friends within her own home. However, this never appeared to bother the strange little girl. She amused herself daily with childish stunts and collecting odds and ends. Not a soul in Greensong Manor much cared about what Samantha did with her time. Besides the girl in question, only one living soul was present to command the household automatons.

The tall, pale, sturdy man sat straight as an arrow at his desk in the far left wing of Greensong Manor. His jet black hair was impressively slicked back and gleamed unnaturally in the dull, green light of the fog lamps. His sharp green eyes scanned the document before him. The dull green light illuminated the man's sharp features. Autofficer Greensong looked as sharp as a chiseled statue, with even less of a soul.

Samantha crept through the doorway and watched with pure, greenish-blue eyes as her father went about his strange business. He'd been home for days, reading and signing papers. Samantha smirked childishly and attempted a somersault across the floor, only to crash into the stand of an expensive vase.

At the sound of the crash, Autofficer Greensong shoved back his chair and rose abruptly to his feet, turning sharply to glare at the child. Samantha sat up, her nut-brown hair covering most of her sickly-pale face.

"I was just about to send for you." her father addressed the girl, his voice bone-chilling.

Samantha scrambled to her feet and did a childish solute. Autofficer Greensong turned sharply and swiped up an odd mask with fog fumes trailing out of it from his desk. The man stiffly presented it to his daughter, who in turn, strapped the fog-powered device over her mouth.

"In approximately three days and fifteen hours, the Greensong Manor shall undertake a new servant girl." the Autofficer reported coldly.

"A human servant, sir?" Samantha answered in a light, electronic voice.

"Yes," her father replied stiffly, "A girl near your age. She was highly recommended for..." the man cringed, a pained look briefly alighting his face. "necessary reasons."

"Yes, sir." Samantha replied, nodding awkwardly, the mask shifting about her small face.

"You are dismissed, Samantha." the Autofficer said coldly, stiffly taking a seat at his desk once again.

The young girl unstrapped the awkward fog mask and laid it gently on the desk before her father. As she turned to leave, she saw the Autofficer push it aside to it's desolate corner of the workplace. Samantha Greensong heaved a raspy, thin sigh as she tread down the cold stone halls. This time, she didn't bother to creep about the shadows.

[Miss_B2]

Chapter Two: Bella Brassclock

Three Days Later

Walk in, shine bright, please Autofficer Greensong, don’t get too attached ‘cause ‘e could fire me at any time, and most importantly… Do a good job.

Bella Brassclock smiled at the reflection of herself in her mirror, inhaling deeply and then exhaling. “Do a good job,” she repeated out loud with an English accent as she put her brown hair into a ponytail, still leaving out a part of her naturally-grown bangs. She stared at her own dark brown eyes. I’ll ‘ave to look - and dress - my best today.

She turned her head and walked to her run-down wardrobe in her bedroom. She opened it up and got out a red dress as she bit her lip, wondering if Autofficer Greensong would notice the small plaid patch on the front of it. All the same, it was her best and finest outfit, so she put it on.

After her finishing touches with her hair and dress - and the adorning of a stylish monocle - she also grabbed an Urchin Patchwork outfit for her cleaning hours at the Greensong Manor.

I’ve got this. I’ll make Mr. Greensong proud that ‘e hired me, out of all the servant girls in Aethasia.

But even after her short internal pep talk, her stomach still churned and twisted. What if she messed up? What if she was fired, and her guardians would be so disgraced that they would send her to the Grotto to live by herself? Did Autofficer Greensong live alone? Would he be harsh? He seemed slightly cold when she first met him, but was he just in a bad mood at the time? A million thoughts swirled through Bella’s mind as her hands began to tremble slightly. No amount of internal pep talks or I got this’s could soothe her electric nerves. She was anxious, and she knew it.

Bella inhaled again, then exhaled. “Alright, Arabella Brassclock, pull yerself together.” Her eyes widened slightly, remembering about her method of speech. She wasn’t an Urchin by any stretch of the imagination, but she hadn’t paid much attention to her informal way of speaking before, unlike her rich guardians. She bit her lip again - harder this time. She knew she’d have to be and act formal in every way possible, including speech. If she thought her guardians were slightly greedy and overly proper, Autofficer Greensong was most likely even more so - and he might be displeased with Bella if she showed any hint of informality.

Bella furrowed her eyebrows, running through all the methods of proper speech her guardians had taught her when she was young. Keilene and Deniel Gleamfeather were her guardians - they agreed to take care of her in the house that Bella inherited from her true parents, who had left her in the Evercity Orphanage with the inheritance when she was a baby. Of course, Bella couldn’t live by herself at only seven years old, so the Gleamfeathers agreed on supervising Bella until she turned sixteen. In nine more years, when she would turn sixteen, she would be able to live in her own house by herself.

Bella sighed. She ran a hand through her hair but was stopped by the loop of the short ponytail caused by the hairband. She pulled her hand out of her hair and fixed her posture, standing up straighter.

I can do this.

Abruptly, the clacking sound of high-heels echoed from behind Bella. She turned around and saw a woman descending a light wooden staircase past the open door to her bedroom - Keilene.

“Ah. Bella.” Keilene stopped on the last step and placed her hand on the white wooden railing. “I see you’re ready to begin your service to Autofficer Greensong.” Her English accent and way of speaking was clear and pronounced. She looked Bella’s dress up and down, studying it.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bella chirped cheerfully, although her thoughts weren’t nearly as cheerful as her tone. “I start in three hours. You can trust me to walk to the Greensong Manor - I know my way ‘round there, clear as crystal.” She smiled, then cringed at her wording.

Keilene rolled her eyes in disgust. “My dear! Bella Brassclock, haven’t you learned proper English by now? ‘‘Round’ should be ‘around,’ and just for my sake, please add that extra A in the middle of ‘clear’ and ‘crystal.’” She smiled.

Bella nodded. “Got it.”

“Now, get the show on the road!” Keilene said with an also peppy tone. “Go out there and show Mr. Greensong what proper servitude looks like. Go on, then!”

Bella nodded, took one last look at herself in the reflection, then dashed out the bedroom door and then the front door.

[Silence_Burnlance]

Chapter Three: The Human Servant Girl

Not a word was spoken to Samantha the day Autofficer Greensong left to bring the new human servant girl to Greensong Manor. She pressed her sickly-pale face against the green-tinted window as he left in the fog-powered, driverless carriage. Presently, she wondered when he would return from his mission, and whether or not any foreign bits of cobblestone would be scraped from his shoes before turning to his work.

Soon, the carriage disappeared from view, leaving a trail of fog behind it. Samantha climbed down from the window and patted slowly down the long, dull hall to her bedroom. As she reached for the brass door handle, however, an idea whispered in her mind.

Samantha beamed, illustrating with her hands as she plotted a course to her father's now abandoned office. She silently somersaulted backwards to the wall. Rising awkwardly to her feet, she scooted along the wall until coming to an open passage. In her excitement to poke around her father's secluded office, she abandoned her plan to crisscross to each shadow in favor of zipping soundlessly across the room in seconds.

Finally, she stood before the doorway to the office of Autofficer Greensong. Samantha rubbed her hands together and grasped the doorknob to slow but steady turn. The knob wouldn't budge. Samantha stamped her foot in frustration, wishing her plan had worked. Then, her mind began to work around the problem.

Locked doors have keys. Father has keys, and Father isn't home... yet.

She smiled mischievously, He won't need a key to this room when he's gone next. she thought, He might have one in his-

"Samantha Greensong,"

The girl jumped and spun around quickly, the suddenness her father's sharp voice giving her a start. She stared shamefully up at her father's looming figure, wondering what her punishment would be.

Instead of rebuking her, however, Autofficer Greensong stepped aside, revealing a girl of Samantha's age hidden behind him. She wore a plain red dress, her hair pulled back into a short pony tail. She also wore a monocle over one eye, a thing Samantha had only seen her Father's elder visitors consider fashionable.

Samantha glanced down at her white button-up shirt tucked into her silky black breeches, which ended at her light-brown knee-high boots. She ran her fingers through her hair, reminding herself just how messy it was. This new stranger was very different.

"This," her father told her stiffly, "is Bella Brassclock, our new servant."

Our? Samantha paused at the word. Her father rarely referred to anything as belonging to the two of them.

Autofficer Greensong slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the door key. Samantha's eyes sparkled as she watched him stiffly unlock the door. The key would return to his pocket in a minute or so... however, come opportunity, it wouldn't remain there for long.

Her father slipped inside his dingy office, closing the door tightly behind him. Samantha and Bella exchanged confused glances before the Autofficer returned with a familiar object.

My mask! Samantha thought, surprised, Why does Father want me to speak with him?

Autofficer Greensong presented the mask to Samantha in his familiar stiff fashion. "Show Bella around the manor. Tell her what she needs to know and answer any questions she might have."

Having given the instructions, the man turned back into his office, locking the door behind him. Samantha turned back to stare at the strange new girl in the red dress. Bella Brassclock looked so uncertain about everything as she glanced up and around at the tall ceilings and Pacifier hall guards.

Samantha clenched her fists and released her thin, raspy sigh. Slowly, she strapped on her mask and inhaled the fog powering the machine.

"Hello Bella Brassclock. Welcome to Greensong Manor."

[Miss_B2]

Chapter Four: Tainted Fog

Heart beating, pulse pounding, Bella Brassclock’s brown eyes darted around the room frantically. Her breath seemed to have sucked right out from her; like her lungs were no longer willing to do business with the rest of her body. From Autofficer Greensong’s posture and disposition to the strange girl who appeared to be the daughter of the Autofficer (but used some odd Fog mask Bella was inexplicably anxious about), even to the Pacifier hall guards - there was something about this place that haunted her, that made her wonder why she was even there and why she had even decided to serve the Autofficer.

The ceilings with their high, fancy chandeliers loomed high above her like gargoyles of the night, watching her carefully, eerily. The entire house had a green tint to it, most likely because of the Fog lamps on the walls, the Fog Fire eternally lit. Eternally burning.

Bella’s breaths came in shaky inhales and exhales. No light, airy rooms like her old home… No kind masters like her proper but also caring guardians… No. Only dark, shadowy corners tinted by the green of a haunted house. Only Automatons watching her every move, her every breath. Their haunted eyes followed hers and never stopped.

Bella exhaled, trying to let go of the gripping fear. It gripped like the talons of a vulture, digging into her soul. Her only anchor to the present situation before drowning in her fear and anxiety was the young girl standing right in front of her with a Fog mask - Samantha Greensong. Eerie as she seemed, this young girl was about her age - perhaps they could become friends, once they got to know each other?

“Miss Brassclock?” Samantha asked abruptly but uncertainly, tilting her head. Her voice was light and electronic, almost like a thirteen-year-old’s voice when filled with too much helium - but it sounded digital, choppy and filtered. Like an Automaton.

Bella shuddered at the voice. Normally, Automatons didn’t scare her - but in this creepy house, everything seemed to scare her all at once.

“Miss Brassclock,” Samantha repeated. “I will show you around the house. Are you ready or not?”

Bella’s heart leapt in her throat. What if, in one of the rooms, there was a trap? What if she somehow got separated from Samantha and now was completely lost in this ginormous place? What then?

Samantha tilted her head to the other side, then softly added, “Miss Brassclock… Can you speak?”

Bella nodded stiffly. “Y-yes… I would like-I would like the tour, yes.” She plastered a fake smile, but couldn’t stop staring into those eerie green, Fog-tinted eyes of the mask.

“Is there… A problem, Miss Brassclock?” Samantha asked in a slightly perturbed, slightly curious manner.

“N-no. None at all. Carry on, then.”

[Silence_Burnlance]

Chapter Five: The Writing Pad

Samantha did carry on, despite the awkwardness of it. Her father never wished her to speak to any visitors of the manor, nor did her father's guests wish to hear her. The strange new human servant girl was the first person she had spoken to apart from her father.

You could have led the tour, Father. she thought, Miss Brassclock would be better off with you.

Despite the thought, something in her doubted it. Spun around sharply to stare at the new servant girl. Miss Brassclock jumped at the motion.

No. Father would have been much worse for her...

"This way," Samantha muttered through her mask, exhaling a foggy breath.

The two girls marched silently through the long, dim halls. Solemnly passing rows of Automaton house guards. Samantha disliked having to walk past them in plain sight instead of sliding past them inconspicuously. She felt so out of of place in her own home as she attempted the same formalities her father often showed to visitors.

No wonder he has so few guests. I've never done anything more dull than this...

---

"This is my room," Samantha spoke in a childish electric monotone.

She opened the door and gave Miss Brassclock a moment to behold it. The largest and most noticeable thing in the rather small, dingy room was the tall black wardrobe full of clothing Samantha neither wore nor liked. Past the wardrobe stood a low, metal bed frame supporting a thin mattress piled high with useless black cushions good only for hurling furiously against the cold stone wall. Across from the bed was a very small, very high window which only served to let in the first rays of morning light. Other than a fine portrait of the Emperor hanging beside the wardrobe, that was all for the average person to see.

Samantha turned to Miss Brassclock, straightening her mask to speak, "I'm not sure where... where..."

The girl's electronic voice faltered at the sight of the new servant girl. Her face was a perfect mask of dread from everything she'd seen. Samantha clenched her fists and quickly unlatched her mask, hurling it into the mountain of useless pillows.

"Oh dear! I-," Miss Brassclock stammered, "I-I'm s-so terribly sorry!"

Why? Samantha thought, You've done nothing wrong.

The speechless girl stepped over to the low metal bed frame and pulled out a long wooden box. From within the box, she withdrew a silver writing book with the name Elizabeth Greensong embossed on the cover. A treasure she had smuggled out of her father's office only weeks before. Taking up a coal-black pen -another possession of her father's- she scribbled out the rest of her speech.

I'm not sure where you will be staying, but you can stay with me if you like until I do.

Samantha turned the notepad towards Miss Brassclock to read. The girl read it carefully, her mouth opening and closing again as she searched for words.

You have a funny voice. Samantha wrote quickly, It must be nice to listen to.

More silence followed as Miss Brassclock remained in her state of nervous confusion.

The mask doesn't have a nice voice. Samantha continued to write, It sounds like an automation... I understand why you don't like it. I don't like it either.

After another moment of anxious silence, Samantha offered Bella the pen and pad, wondering if she'd rather write than speak. Miss Brassclock slowly took both, leaving Samantha's hands empty. The silent girl fiddled with her fingers anxiously, hoping for some hasty form of response.

[Miss_B2]

Chapter Six: Imperfect

Bella stared at the writing pad in her hand and the pen in the other, mind racing at one hundred miles per hour. It was a very nice gesture of Samantha to offer to stay with Bella until the Autofficer found a place for Bella to stay, but after everything Bella had seen, she wanted some alone time to process things.

Bella looked back up at Samantha, then back at the pad as she began to write.

I’m just trying to process everything, that’s all. Bella bit her lip, then continued writing. I… She scribbled out that last letter and tried again. If you don’t mind me asking, miss, why do you use that creepy mask?

Samantha glanced worriedly at Bella, then back down at the writing pad. Quickly taking up the pen, she scribbled out, I need it... I need it to speak.

Her pale hand froze above the page for a moment before continuing. I was born with what my father calls a speech impairment. They tried fog treatment to fix it, but it only got worse... So they made a mask I could speak through instead.

As she wrote, Samantha let out a weak cough. Even in the dingy light, Bella could clearly see thin wisps of fog floating eerily into the air.

Samantha handed the notepad and pen back to Bella as Bella studied it. Then Bella sighed and placed the notepad and pen down on a nearby table. “Well, I… I’m sorry you ‘ad to go through that.” She smiled at Samantha, who seemed to be confused and surprised. “Don’t worry; you c’n write if ye want to, but I think I’d rather speak. I ‘ave bad handwriting.” Bella grimaced. Oh, cogs and crankshafts - my speech is a mess! “I’m sorry, I guess I’m a bit uncivilized… S’been a while since I’ve actually talked t’someone other than my guardians.” Her words were slightly slurred, so she swallowed and cleared her throat.

Samantha tilted her head, then picked up the notepad and pen resting on the table and wrote, What do you mean by “guardians?”

Bella studied the words, then sighed, inwardly wondering why Samantha said nothing about her speech. She answered anyway. “It’s a complicated story, y’know. I’m… Well… I’m an orphan.”

Samantha blinked, her expression one of curiosity and sympathy all at once. She wrote, Oh… I’m sorry.

“S’alright,” Bella replied with a soft smile. “‘Tis the past. Nothin’ t’apologize for.” It felt good, being able to talk to someone other than Keilene or Deniel, who sometimes seemed too proper to bear her speech style. “Anyway… What’s next?”

[Silence_Burnlance]

Chapter Seven: A Bonding Struggle

Samantha took up the writing pad and began to scribble out her response.

Now, we get to the important things! she flashed a mischievous smile and beckoned to Bella to come closer. As the new comer approached hesitantly, Samantha dropped down beside her bed and drew out an old box.

Awkwardly fumbling for the writing pad, Samantha scribbled out a short explanation.

This is my collection! she wrote proudly, I swiped everything here without being caught!

"'Ow very fascinating!" Bella remarked, fingering a screw from the box.

No one knows these things have gone missing. Samantha boasted, Not even my father!

Just as Bella read these words, the door to Samantha's room was opened sharply. Quick as a flash, Samantha kicked the box back under her bed and leaped into the air, landing as straight as a measuring stick. Bella stiffened in a similar fashion next to the silent girl, her right hand still clutching the screw.

The sturdy frame of Autofficer Greensong loomed in the doorway, sending a mild shiver down Samantha's spine.

The mask! she remembered suddenly.

For approximately three seconds, she broke formation and dove into the mountain of decorative pillows behind her to retrieve the mask. Once in her possession, Samantha strapped it on and stepped forward to be addressed by her father.

"Have you given Miss Brassclock the tour?" he asked coldly, a thin, jet-black eyebrow arching.

"I have, sir," Samantha replied through the mask.

"I see everything is in order then," her father replied stiffly.

Before the Autofficer could leave, Bella nervously stepped forward.

"S-sir?" she began.

Autofficer Greensong turned his cold gaze to Bella. "What is it?" he asked sharply.

"I-I'm sorry to botha you, sir, but I 'ave to wonder, w'ere am I suppose' t'stay 'nd wot's my work t'be?" she asked nervously.

Autofficer Greensong stared at her in a frozen state, his thin eyebrow raising slowly in confusion. Bella's face flushed profusely in shame.

"Miss Brassclock is wondering where you will have her live in Greensong Manor and what she will be doing to serve you." Samantha translated for the newcomer in her light, electronic voice.

"Seeing as your quarters are large enough, Bella shall be staying with you." Autofficer Greensong replied sharply, "As for her work, those details shall be discussed at 10:30 tomorrow morning."

With that, the Autofficer turned sharply on his heels and strode out of the room, stiffly shutting the door behind him. Seconds after her father's departure, Samantha stripped off the mask and returned it to it's resting place atop Mount Decorative Cushions and snatched up the writing pad.

It's very strange that he would come to us in person instead of sending an automaton to fetch me. she scribbled to Bella, I don't believe he's ever set foot in my room before!

Samantha turned the writing pad to Bella, who merely glanced at it through bleary eyes. The silent little girl watched worriedly as the newcomer swiped at her eyes. Samantha tapped the girl's shoulder twice, causing her to look up. Having regained her attention, the silent girl flashed a concerned, yet curious expression.

"'E couldn't understand a word!" Bella lamented, "Oh my horrid mess of speech!"

Samantha watched helplessly as Bella's eyes brimmed over from the embarrassment. As the newcomer mourned, Samantha flipped a page of the writing pad and carefully wrote out a response, pausing many a time to read over her message. Once she was satisfied with her words, she presented the writing pad to Bella.

I don't believe Father will hold it against you. He may be very cold, but he is rarely angry... It's strange to see someone else go through what I've felt before. However, strange is a good thing here, because I'm strange too. We both feel hurt from our voices, but now, we can feel hurt together, and not be alone anymore... Do you want to be my friend? I think we would be good friends, because we have the same struggle, and in our struggling, we can help each other be brave. Let's be brave together, through the automatons, judgments, and fog. Let's hold each other up when we fall. That way, we won't fall so many times, and when we do fall, it won't hurt anymore.

Samantha stared distractedly as Bella read the writing pad, her greenish-blue eyes focused on the name engraved on the silver cover, Elizabeth Greensong. The silent little girl never knew her mother's name, only her raven hair and sapphire eyes framing a healthy, glowing complexion. However, even a child as young as Samantha could solve that simple a mystery.

"Let's be brave together, my dear," Samantha recalled her mother's gentle voice, "through automatons, judgments, and fog. Let us secure one another when we slip away. We have a difficult journey ahead, dear loved one. May the Great Engineer be with us."

As the memory faded, Samantha returned to reality to see Bella continue to study the message. After a moment, she looked up from the notepad. Samantha shifted anxiously in her seat on the bed covers, hoping, yet fearing Bella's response.

[Miss_B2]

Chapter Eight: United We Stand

Bella sniffled as she scanned each line of the written message. She blinked a few tears away, and after she finished reading, she looked back up at Samantha with a small nod. “That… Tha’ sounds nice. Thank you.” She smiled sadly, and Samantha grinned back, her strange eyes sparkling.

Samantha swept up the writing pad and scribbled out her next words. Now that we're friends, there's something I want to show you! Samantha flipped the writing pad around for Bella to scan her sentence before seizing the pen to continue. I'm glad you've survived all the strangeness of my father's home. Now, you'll see my view of Greensong Manor!

---

Five Years Later

Scrub, scrub.

Bella sighed tiredly, crouching down as her brown eyes locked onto floating bubbles from the sponge Bella was using. The bubbles slowly rose up in the air, creating warped reflections of Bella in each of them. The young twelve-year-old looked around to make sure no one was watching, then poked a bubble with her finger. A grin snuck across her face as she watched it pop.

“Resume cleaning at once,” playfully demanded a young, electronic voice, “or you will immediately be reported!”

Bella turned her head to see Samantha Greensong, hands on her hips and mask on her face.

Bella scrunched her nose mischievously, her eyes forming into tiny crescents. “To who, those daft hall guards?” She smirked. “Yeah, right! I c’n beat the cogs outta their lifeless bodies.” Noticing Samantha shift her weight and look around the light, airy room, Bella added, “Buuut I won’t.” She winked, then stood up from her crouch and tilted her head. “I’m ‘most done cleanin’. Y’wanna do somethin’ fun after?”

A slight smirk of mischief snuck its way across her face, even beneath the mask. “Like what?” she asked through her mask.

Bella took one step closer, her brown eyes twinkling. “Sneak ‘round th’house, p’haps? Or try’ta collect some things; s’up to you.”

Samantha’s smirk widened, even though it was hidden by her mask. “Sounds like a plan,” she said with a small nod. “Meet me at our room by four o’clock.”

Bella’s smirk transformed into a grin as she repeated, “Sounds like a plan.”

[Silence_Burnlance]

Chapter Nine: An Unexpected Outing

Samantha lay upside down on the bed, her mid-length, nut-brown ponytail puddling on the cold, stone floor as she waited for Bella to finish scrubbing the hall tile.

Any minute now, Samantha thought, watching the door from her odd position.

After five seconds of waiting, she raised her hands to meet the floor and slid off, landing in a crouch at the foot of the bed. Samantha pulled out the long, thin box containing her and Bella's extensive collection. Swiping up a beloved pocket watch from the bed of treasures, she read the time. 3:55; five more minutes of idle waiting.

Samantha released a thin, raspy sigh and replaced the watch. After returning the box to it's hiding place, the silent girl stood up and began to sneak about the shadows of her bedroom, flattening herself against walls and attempting stunts. After a spectacular crash from an attempted back hand spring, the door swung open to reveal Samantha's long-awaited friend.

The fallen tweenager scrambled to her feet and darted across the room to fetch the writing pad. When venturing outside the bedroom walls, Samantha used the mask to communicate with Bella for convenience. However, when opportunity came to avoid strapping the sickly familiar, fog-smoking contraption to her face, she took it gladly.

You are fortunate, Miss Brassclock. I was mere seconds away from having you arrested! Samantha wrote playfully.

"Oh!" cried Bella, huffing in mock-offence, "On whot charge, Autof'cer Gre'nson'?"

Initiating the perpetual boredom of important persons! Samantha grinned mischievously.

"Well! The sponge ke'ps more patience then miss 'igh and mighty e're tried!" Bella scolded, beaming all the while.

Why attempt such a thing when an automaton could easily do it for me? Samantha teased, You there! Metal man! Learn perfect patience and delivered it to my bedroom post haste!

The two girls burst into odd laughter; Bella's loud and joyful, Samantha's thin and raspy.

"Whot shall we do today, friend?" Bella asked breathlessly.

Before Samantha could scribble out her response, the bedroom door swung open unexpectedly. The girls turned to behold the looming figure of Autofficer Greensong, baring his usual stony expression. Over the past five years, the man had gained few noticeable changes. The only prominent mark of age were the thin grey highlights scattered about his sleek, jet-black hair.

Samantha scrambled about desperately to find the mask.

"On the bed, 'top the pillows!" Bella whispered earnestly.

After racking Mount Decorative Cushions, she tumbled to the floor and sprang up to strap on the mask.

"Hello, sir," she greeted her father weakly.

"'Ello, sa," Bella murmured, standing by her side.

Autofficer Greensong nodded stiffly, acknowledging the girls' presence.

"At the stroke of 7:00 P.M., the carriage shall disembark for a conference held in Rivets County, Evercity." the Autofficer reported mechanically, "The two of you must have your bags packed and ready by 6:52."

Samantha blinked in surprised, "The two of us, sir?" she questioned.

"I believe I said as much." her father stated, "I suggest both you and Bella begin packing at 5:31." With that, Autofficer Greensong turned on his heels and strode stiffly out of the room, shutting the door behind him.