When everything was quiet again and Evens and Sally were long gone Dr. Simonson approached his lovely living doll. He had named her Ambrosia after the food of the gods. To him she was a heavenly creature. Simonson admired her strong, perfect limbs. Soon they would be covered in materials so close to flesh she would fool everyone into believing she was real. For now her metal skeleton glistened in the overhead lights like fine jewels.

            Each night before retiring he told her stories of her creation. She would listen to his every word, and though she could not speak she would often clap at his triumphs. Tonight he told her the tale of her clockwork heart.

            “It was a clear and beautiful night” Simonson began. “There were a million stars, and I was afire with creativity. You were in bits and pieces, your legs scattered, your arms willy nilly. I knew that I must find away to connect you, to make you real. The true test of humanity is the strength of its heart. Yours my dear had to be perfect.”

            Ambrosia stared at him in delight, her blank sockets focusing on his every word. Simonson could swear he saw the corners of her metallic mouth turn up, she was a wonder.

            “The Owls Nest inn on St Peters Avenue” He continued. “Has a lovely grandmother clock. It is an exquisite specimen, with delicate curves, and amazing details. It is the most accurate time piece I have ever encountered. I knew that within its chest beat your heart. I went to Mr. Peterson and explained to him that I would be happy to purchase the clock, but the man was impossible. The clock had been his grandfathers, so there was no way he would sell.” Simonson looked fondly at his creation. “There was no way I was giving up though, you deserved the best.

            “So on that clear and beautiful night I waited until Sally slept. She sleeps very hard my wife, and snores horribly, between you and I” Once again Simonson could swear Ambrosia was smiling. “I crept out quietly, with my bag of tools. The selfsame delicate instruments I used to create you my dear, and went to the Owls Nest. The inn was very dark, and completely silent, save for the ticking of the clock which was so loud you could hear it from the porch. I entered by the servants gate. They seem to always leave that back door unlocked, makes you wonder how the guests, few that there are, feel secure. Once inside I went to the foyer. There is was the grandmother clock. I very quietly tried to slide the clock away from the wall. It weighed a ton! Love must give you incredible strength because finally it slid a few inches from the wall.”

            Simonson reached out and took the androids cold metal hand and raised it to his lips. Ambrosia cocked her head to the side and looked away, an innocent coquet. Simonson grin spread from ear to ear, at her lovely human reaction.

            “I snaked a hand behind the clock on undid the fine screws that held the back in place. Each tick of the clock sent my heart beating faster; I had fifteen minutes till the monster sang its midnight chime and deafened me. I have never been so nervous. I felt a million eyes on me. I listened desperately for Peterson’s footsteps on the stairs. However, all I heard was the sweet ticking of the clock.

            With the back panel removed I rapidly began work disassembling the movement. This proved more difficult than I anticipated.  Every tick took me closer to midnight. I felt myself moving ever closer to the booming symphony sure to waken a guest, or employee. I fumbled dropping a screw. I was on my hands and knees, praying to find it. Without those screws I would never be able to replace the back and my theft would be noticed for sure. Two minutes to midnight, I found the screw, removed the mechanism, and let out a sigh. I now held clockwork perfection in my hands.

            I bit back a cry of triumph, and replaced the clocks back. I also changed the setting to 6:15, an hour before the hotels complimentary breakfast began. I ran through the night like an ecstatic ghost. Silent but dancing down the dark streets.”

            Simonson took out a small screwdriver and loosened two screws in the Ambrosia’s chest. She crossed her arms in an attempt at modesty, but he slapped them away.

            “None of that,” He said with a laugh. “I created you after all; you have no call to be shy.” Simonson could have sworn he saw a red tinge to her metallic cheeks.

            “There the perfect heart.” Inside the deep chest cavity the Grandmother Clock movement produced a steady tick. He had insolated her chest to dampen the sound, but with the panel open it reverberated like a prayer gong.    He stared at his perfect handy work a minute more and then closed the panel. Dr Simonson laid an innocent kiss on her cold coppery forehead and climbed the stairs to bed.

            He always left out the consequences of his acts in their little story times. Peterson had been biting mad and had come to the door with police. Simonson’s lawyer was working on a settlement, but it seemed that he may soon need a new heart for dear Ambrosia. Still, what mattered right now was that she was as perfect as possible. Simonson soon fell to a blissful and dreamless sleep.