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"Sophia Wells," a stern-looking policeman popped his head out from his office to call. I was in a little bit of a daze, the trip down to London was a tiresome one. I got up from the stiff wooden chair and made my way over to him, clutching onto my leather satchel tightly with both gloves, "Come on in," he said with a smile as I approached him, noticing the name Harris on his badge. The officer had one arm outstretched, ushering me to hurry inside, with a nod I followed his hand and into the room. I walked into the centre of the room taking in my surroundings, this was the first time I had ever ventured into the city, not to mention my first time within an authoritative establishment. But this was something I just had to do.
Officer Harris interrupted my thoughts with a tap on the arm, "Please take a seat Miss Wells, I assure you there is nothing to worry about," he said with a smile which seemed out of place on his chiselled complexion. If only I wasn't welling up with anxiety, I might have believed him. Despite my insecurities, I took a seat opposite him, "My assistant tells me you would like to file a missing persons report, is that correct?" he asked, I nodded to agree. He shifted himself about in his chair and gathered the relevant paperwork from his top drawer.
"Firstly," Harris continued, "Let us start by taking your name and occupation," he looked up from his paper, holding an ink pen firmly.
"My name is Sophia Wells and I am an automaton," I replied instantly, raising my voice an octave higher from nerves.
The officer was a little taken back, "An automaton you say?" he asked. I nodded in reply as he slumped back into his leather desk chair, "Who created you, why did they create you? You look almost human." He was notably in shock, but I failed to understand why. Automaton were popular in the city, built to imitate human beings and made to perform numerous tasks so the humans wouldn't have too.
"While I have very little knowledge about my purpose in this world, the only thing I am truly certain of is who created me, even if I am unaware of why they did," I replied, allowing my mechanical hands to fall into my laps, "My master was a man of very few words but he was a genius with his hands. In my opinion, which may come across bias, his creative mind was without parallel, even if no one else agreed. We always found it was us against the world, even if our venture was short-lived." I tried to explain without rumbling on too much, it was a habit I was desperately trying to break.
Harris sat up from his leather seat, interlocking his fingers on top of the desk and resting them close to his lips, "And what has brought you to me today? Is your master okay?"
I shook my head, "He disappeared a few months after my creation and for the first time in my life, I was alone. He barely left a trace, like he never even existed. That was until I found his letter," I said, pulling my satchel into my lap and slipping on hand inside to retrieve a cream-coloured envelope with a broken wax seal on the back, "It hadn't occurred to me how long that may have been sitting in his workshop. I found it hidden under some old paperwork lying on his desk."
"How did you come across it?" Harris quickly asked, jotting down a few notes on his paper.
"I thought I might be doing him a favour, ensuring his workshop was clean and organised for his eventual return but maybe my optimism clouded my judgement. But upon closer inspection of his rickety desk I concluded that my master must have planted it there himself before his disappearance. Perhaps in hope I would discover it one day," I said keeping my sapphire eyes on the page he was writing.
The officer looked up from his desk to throw me a pair of tree-bark dyed daggers, "Do you believe your master's disappearance is premeditated?" he asked, running his free hand through his salt and pepper beard.
"I believe it is certainly possible," I replied quickly, "But I have no way of knowing for sure."
"I see," Harris said, his dark brows knitted together. He too thought it was a hoax enquiry, just like the officer back home., "I think I have everything I need. I will call you if my team finds anything, Miss Wells. I hope you have a pleasant day." He shuffled up from his chair, gathering up the paperwork presumably to file away and never be seen again. I bowed my head in respect and left the way I entered.
A few moments later I found myself back on the streets of London, feeling no better than I had when I was back home in Ethertown. I looked up at the sky, eerily grey from the smogs pouring out of the nearby factories, while my thoughts ran back to my fondest memory. The day I was given life into this world.
While parts of my memory still remain hazy from that day, I remember the first time he looked at me. How his tired hazel eyes fell upon me for the first time, the ecstatic smile he wore when he realised his vision had come to life. My master Alexander Wells, had spent too many years cooped up inside his hovel of a workshop, working tirelessly everyday to make ends meet, earning hardly enough to get by. He had been an apprentice first, working closely underneath his father, assisting with the toy masters work until his death. Alexander was forced to take up his father's mantle and continue the family business.
I remember the first words my master said to me when I awoke, he said I was beautiful, a creative masterpiece from his own hands. He explained I was an automaton, a mechanical doll built to imitate human life. Alexander had constructed me using only components he had found in the local scrap yard or bought cheaply from nearby merchants. When I awoke I looked around the workshop, noting the number of scrapped machines littered about the floor, all was created using similar salvaged components as myself. The walls were plastered with odd charcoal sketches of old planned projects and musings, some had been coloured with inks, the pages mostly faded from age with various tears here and there. To my left I saw Alexander standing in the centre of the room with his jaw to the floor and his right hand running through his mud-brown hair, streaked with grey, presumably from stress. He smoothed down his oil-stained apron, the edges beginning to fray, cleaning his greasy hands on the fabric as he took a step closer to me. He picked out a pair of bronze-frame glasses and began to inspect me; my soft porcelain skin, the honey-blonde curls that framed my face.
He explained I was built in the image of his late wife, she had been stricken with illness shortly after they married. My master gifted me the name the pair had saved for their unborn child, Sophia Wells. I was overjoyed. Although I had only just taken my first breath, it had already seemed like a lifetime we had spent together. In that moment he realised he would no longer be alone, he enveloped me into a warm embrace and let out the pain he had been concealing since her untimely death.
Alexander spent most of his days hunched over his rickety wooden desk, chipped and scruffed in many places. I once tried pleading with him to allow me to fix it up but he wasn't too fond of the idea. It had been his father's and his father's before him, an unedited treasure to remain as the other one before them left it. I joined him everyday, cooped up in the workshop only to venture out when we were in need of food supplies. I had wondered if he was embarrassed of me, a man owning an automaton in poverty was almost unheard of, but my loyalty never wavered.
Back to reality, I dove into my leather satchel and retrieved a poster I had drawn myself, featuring an image of my master. I walked up to the wall, already littered with a number of other missing posters and added his beside them. With a heavy heart I decided to walk away, trying my best to make sense of everything. I just hope one day we meet again, for I have too many questions I need the answers too. I want to know why I was created, what purpose do I serve? What did I mean to you in the short time we spent together.
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