The next weeks were spent in exhaustive research. Dr. Simonson attended the ballet nightly, interviewed dancers, and even took a few classes. He also installed a practice bar in his basement workshop.

            His wife Sally rushed downstairs after hearing horrible hammering sounds from below the floor. “Darling” She exclaimed, “are you all right?”

            The Dr. smiled indulgently at his petite wife. “Yes dearest, I am installing a ballet bar.” Dr Simonson than executed a series of awkward plies, resembling a very drunk giraffe at an exotic New Years Eve celebration.

            Sally rolled her eyes expressively “I’ll be upstairs having tea. Try not to get to dizzy or destroy anything.”

            Despite his wives good natured ribbing Dr. Simonson continued to immerse himself in ballet. He took to wearing leotards under his conservative suits. He was even seen wearing a tutu by a neighborhood boy through the kitchen window. Scandal was avoided with idle threats and an ice cream sandwich. At the end of the month research was done and it was time to begin building in earnest. The doctor however did still do an occasional plies when no one was looking.

            Building the androids skeleton was extremely challenging. The structure must be extremely light and flexible. It took three tries to get materials that were light weight enough to resemble the delicate avian structure of the great ballerinas. Simonson’s victory dance was truly inspired. To the finest classical music he performed something best described as a wildebeest mating dance in the privacy of his basement workshop.

The machines joints were made of the finest clockwork, stolen from priceless works. Sally lived in constant dread as everyday good natured police came to retrieve tiny gears and springs from her husband’s possession. Simonson was loved by his community and many donated the stolen parts once he explained what they were for. Evens was too cocky, and pretentious for the taste of the simple town folk, and any opportunity to see him eat crow was met with relish.  

            Six weeks to the date after their wager began Dr Evens rapped at the door. He was greeted by a much changed Sally. Dr Simonson’s wife was typically a carefree, vibrant woman, but weeks of her husband’s intense work had taken its toll. Her usually perfectly quaffed brown hair was ratty an unkempt, her eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and her usually smiling mouth was set in a hard line.

            “Oh, it’s you” Sally greeted Evens her bubbly voice replaced by cold sarcasm. “Come on in home wrecker, though I doubt Dr. Frankenstein will see you.”

            Crashes from the basement caused the young scientist to jump “Sally what is that?”

            Sally Simonson shrugged. “It’s either applied robotics, or Giselle, I can’t tell any more.” she sighed. “Come on lets greet the madman.”

            “Mad! Surely not. Your husband is one of the sanest men I know. Dr Evens replied.

            “Aye, he was till your stupid bet, call it off, I’m begging you Adam. We were friends once do this for me!” Sally said desperately, holding on to Evens’ collar.

            “We were not friends, Sally, we were engaged. You broke it off when you met him, remember? Now stop acting like a child, and let’s see what he is doing.”

            They trotted down the basement stairs. Sally followed behind chewing on her nails, a habit Evens had always detested. For the first time he was glad to have escaped marriage to such a high strung creature.

            “Open up Simonson I want to see your progress.” Evens yelled over the belting classical music coming from behind the basement door.

            “Go away!” Simonson yelled, “Except you Sally, could you bring me a sandwich?”

            “A sandwich!” She shrieked “I’ll give you a sandwich! A knuckle sandwich!” Sally launched herself at the door sending it open with a crash.

            The sight that awaited them caused her an Evens jaw to drop. Dr Simonson was teaching a robot exoskeleton ballet positions. They were currently holding on to the bar in third position, and both wearing tutus. 

            “Aw. Sally, Evens,” Simonson said not looking away from his metallic charge. “Good of you to drop by, is it lunch time already?”

            Dr Evens and Sally slowly backed up the steps, speechless. The sight of a six foot robot in a pink tutu was only slightly eclipsed by a five foot nine inch paunchy doctor in bifocals, a lab coat and matching tutu.

            The pair shared an awkward cup of tea lost in their silent thoughts.  Evens headed home, a feeling of unease seemed to follow him to his lab that afternoon. In truth Simonson and the robot had had rather exquisite form.