Triumph for Clockworks, Dolls and robotkind! Steam Powered Giraffe!

My new poster in my house!

One sultry summer day in Oxbridge Village, Caledon,(Second Life) I was polishing the silver, and turned on the audiograph to enjoy some music.  Usually I listen to Radio Riel, but this time had typed out "steampunk" on a punch card and slid it into the Pandora machine.

I was greeted with the sweetest, most romantic tune! singing of his lady friend as if she was a "honey bee" which seemed to be the name of the song,, it was subtle, beautiful harmonies, and infectious hip swaying rhythm.

Imagine my surprise when the lyrics said:

You didn't have to say my name

Ignite my circuits and start a flame

But you did,,,

 Circuits? I had to sit my silverware down into the velvet lined drawer. My hands were shaking so, I had to sit at the kitchen table, but the lovely yet desperate lyrics continued,,

Oh, Turpentine erase me whole

I don't want to live my life alone,,,

Could it be, that other clockworks and cybernetic beings had also become sentient? Could it be, that like me, their conscious media longed, their synapses and sinews ached for companionship of like kind? Did they also feel, as it is written in the book of Shelley,

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand?"

 

Well, I do not have to tell you, that as quickly as I could screw my newly polished brass key into its orifice,  and grab my lace draped hat (for it was the mid day sun after all) ,  I held my skirtings and nearly sprinted to the general store! The nice elderly man was his cute, usually terse self:

"Music by Clanks? No we ain't got no ,,, but for a *snicker* professor here, s'pose I kin order it fer ye,,"

 

 I gratefully paid him and retired to the repose of my doll box in my bed room,  in anticipation the day my things arrived!

Now, I sit in the parlour, staring up at the poster, listening to the beautiful music made by those who are like me, and I wonder,, 

 

Should I go see them? Will they think it strange that I should be so attracted to my own kind? I am ignited inside, my springs feel tighter than ever before!

 

Should I dress in more modern attire or my own, befitting the station of Professor of a first rate Victorian university?

 

Should i make them tea?

“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein