Chapter One: Hope

Introducing Charlotte to a human doesn't go as David planned....

The first words I heard in my life were the words of a priest as he condemned my existence. “You created an abomination,” he told my maker. “You have defied God and nature to make this creature.”

My maker argued that God had given him the inspiration to make me, and then given me a soul, so how could he have defied God? The priest said that my half-soul was corrupted and came from Satan. He said I must be destroyed and that my maker must repent.

The priest had been one of my maker’s closest confidants in Spain and I had hoped he would approve of me. It was a bitter feeling knowing that he thought so little of me. It was simply infuriating to know he thought so little of my maker. It would have pleased me to strike the man though I didn’t, more because he left than because I would be scolded.

“I was supposed to finish you before we left, but now I cannot. Put on your coat and prepare to leave.” My maker was always so calm, even in stressful situations. That didn’t fail now.

“Where will we go, Maker?” I slid from the worktable on which I sat. On which I had been made.

“We will go to my home in London. Madrid is no longer safe for you. I am well known in London as a doctor and in some underground circles as an inventor. I can hide you until you are finished and then introduce you as a human. Now hurry.”

“Yes Maker.” My maker was throwing things into trunks at a near frantic pace so I questioned no further and did as he had commanded. I walked up the stairs to my bedroom and dropped my nightgown from my shoulders. I hastened into a chemise and pantalets, my boots, and a crinoline before my maker threw open the door.

“I told you to put on your coat, not an entire damn outfit. There is no time.” He bundled my corset, gown, and gloves into my shawl before throwing my coat at me. I put it on and he handed me the bundle, then shoved me towards the door. On my way out I grabbed the beaded satin bag that rested on a table with flowers.

Conscious of my maker breathing down my neck more than the fact that I was undressed, I walked out of the house and climbed into the waiting carriage. It was stuffed with boxes and trunks, with more strapped to the outside. When my maker climbed in after me there was no room for him to sit next to me so he simply picked me up and sat me on his lap.

I could hear shouts in Spanish, people screaming in the name of God. They were coming for us. They wanted to destroy me. Our carriage took off as fast as the horses could go and wound our way out of Madrid. My maker and I had nothing to do as we headed for the coast since we had left behind our books and games, so my maker unbundled my clothes and set to dressing me.

In such tight quarters it took him nearly an hour to lace and tighten my corset properly. My skirt and blouse were much easier, and then he tied my shawl around my head to mask the fact that I am hairless. Rather than putting on my gloves he held my hands and studied them, marveling over his greatest accomplishment.

For I was created, not born. He made me piece by piece and poured his hopes into my metal skeleton, forming my personality and soul. Over gold bones went wax skin, ivory teeth, glass eyes. My maker claimed the fact that his invention had been animated was a sign of God’s favor towards scientific progress. He said I was the hope for the future, and named me Charlotte Hope.

But it seemed that perhaps people were not ready to have a man play God and make a person. They believed me to be evil and unnatural. People were born, but I was made.

 

It took us a week to reach Santander, then another week and four days to reach Calais, and four days to sail across the Channel and up a river into London. Weather works in mysterious ways. It was an unpleasant trip with my maker so tense. He tried to hide it, but I could sense what he felt. It was part of how I was made.

A carriage took us from the Thames into a nice area of town and I stared at the streets as we passed. We pulled up to one townhouse in a series of many, all connected together, and I gaped in awe. Our home in Madrid had been nice, but this was beautiful.

A porter helped me down and walked me past the maids and butlers inside. From behind me my maker commanded “Take the mistress to the room with the best view of the garden. See to it that she is comfortable. Summon a dressmaker and cloth merchant for this afternoon. I will be unpacking my study and workshop and am not to be disturbed.”

There was a resounding echo of “Yes Doctor Covington,” from the assembled staff as my maker walked away. A plump blond woman approached me with a demure smile. “Right this way Mistress, I’ll get you set up in your room. Would you like anything in particular with your tea?”

“No, thank you. I am very tired and wish to rest. Please do not bother with tea.” I followed her up two flights of stairs to a floor with only three doors. The stairs continued on for another floor after, but she led me to the door at the end of the hall.

“Here we are Mistress. This room was arranged for the doctor’s late mother. She ran the whole household from in here and the small study next door. I’m Bess, Mistress, if you need anything simply ring the bell. I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you Bess. I think I shall sleep for a time.”

“The seas were difficult for you? Perhaps I should summon the doctor.”

“No, he said not to bother him. All I need is rest.” I did not need rest and the seas had not affected me. I am not susceptible to such things as humans are. Bess dipped a curtsey and left me to my room. I could see that it was quite ornate and a little old fashioned. The four poster bed was the main focal point of the room, with a little sitting area and dressing area on either side.

It did not appeal to me. I was used to staying at my maker’s side, even as he slept. I did not need to sleep so my bedroom in our Madrid house was more of a large closet with a sitting room in it. Here it seemed I was to attempt to assimilate into a more human role. I was to be the lady of the house, but not to be with him as I had always been.

I did not like that. It went against the intentions I had been created with.

I walked around the room and peered out the large windows to the gardens. They were beautiful indeed and I appreciated the view, but I was still bitter. I wondered if my maker was starting to view me as the abomination the priest had claimed me to be. Or maybe he was going to be rid of me soon, so that I would bring him less trouble.

Though possible, that was improbable, so I tried to push those thoughts from my mind. I continued to explore my room, going into the small attached study, opening all of the drawers in my desk. The desk contained writing supplies, a journal, and a datebook.  There was a large silk screen sectioning off part of the main room for me to get dressed behind, and the love seat by the window was very comfortable.

Eventually I tired of pacing around and threw myself on the bed with a book. I was halfway through when there was a knock on the door and I heard Bess slip in. “Mistress, Master Covington requests that you join him in his workshop immediately.”

“Very well.” I tossed my book and crossed the room to follow her to my maker’s workshop in the cellar.

Bess knocked on the door and announced me, then backed away. In most houses a maid would have knocked, gone in, announced me, and then waited for orders. But that isn’t how my maker likes things. He is a very private man and does not appreciate anyone walking in without an invitation. Even though he had sent for me he could well have left me there for an hour before he finished what he was doing.

Thankfully the door opened almost immediately and I stepped inside. The workshop was cooler than most of the house, which helped with his work. It was brightly lit and austere looking, nothing welcoming about it. But it was not a room for entertaining; it was a room for work. After I finished my quick analysis I turned to face my maker.

My maker is a handsome man, with light brown hair and light brown eyes. The rolling ship had been too dangerous for a shave, so he had stubble on his hollowed cheeks. He had been tanned by the Spanish sun; more so than would be fashionable in England, but it would fade quickly from his naturally fair skin. His nose was slim, his lips full, and his jaw strong. He is a tall man with broad shoulders and evident muscles, and he moves with all the grace of a well-born man.

“How do you find your room, Hope?” My maker’s voice is warm and deep, with the faintest hint of a Spanish accent twining with his English one. He moved past me to stand on the far side of a worktable, just like the one I had been created on in Madrid.

“It is quite nice. The gardens are lovely and I adore the view.” It would be inappropriate, I felt, to say “I hate that I must stay in it when my place is at your side,” so I settled for the positive.

“Good. There is a dressmaker coming to measure you this afternoon. As you are unfinished you must obviously remain covered. I see no reason why he would even request to see you in less than a corset and pantalets. There is another matter as well. Come sit.”

I sat on the table so that he could tinker with me. “I wish I had finished you before we left Spain. I shouldn’t have shown you to that priest, especially before you were complete. Just this afternoon I finished one very necessary piece to help you blend in: your hair.”

I had been waiting for my hair for as long as I could remember. I would stand out without it and I felt mildly jealous when I saw my maker’s patients with their long beautiful hair. He had promised me that he would finish it and now he finally had.

“Now this was complicated to make. The anchoring points will be absolute, so this won’t come off like a wig. It can be cleaned and styled like real hair; it is real hair in part. I made it with a combination of hair, silk thread, and copper wire.” He lifted a long mass of synthetic hair for my examination. The color was beautiful, a gold-copper-red-orange which reminded me of the Madrid sun.

My maker lifted the hair and a few copper wires and began securing it to my head. “There is another matter as well Hope.”

“What other matter would that be, Maker?”

“That is it exactly. You cannot continue calling me your maker.”

“Shall I call you master?”

“I have a name and you shall call me by it.”

“David.”

“We must find a place for you. Everyone must have a place and we must find yours. So how shall we introduce you? Will you be my sister, my cousin, my niece?”

“No one will believe we are related. I do not look like you and I doubt you ever mentioned me to anyone before.”

“You could be my ward.”

“I could be your wife.” Never before had I caught my maker off guard, but at that point I had. He paused in his work, but resumed quickly and did not speak until he had finished. Then he led me to the full length mirror propped against one wall.

“What do you think?”

“I love it,” That was no lie. I suppose I had looked well enough before, but with this hair I looked beautiful. It spilled down to my waist and the different tones shimmered in the light. I ran my fingers through it and marveled that anything containing wire could feel so soft. “I… It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.” My maker sighed. “I will tell everyone that you are my fiancée. Then I won’t have to come up with another explanation as to why you didn’t get married and leave me.” He wrapped his arm around me from behind and rested his chin on top of my head. We made a handsome pair.

“I will never leave you, Maker.”

“David.”

“David. I will never leave you. My place is with you.”

“Yes it is.” We stayed still and silent for several minutes before I turned around and gave him a smile. I reached up to touch the empty sleeve where his left forearm should have been. One day I would ask him what happened, and one day I would ask why he had never built himself a new arm, but today I just let it go. He preferred for his amputation to be ignored.

There was a knock at the door and Bess called “The dress maker and cloth merchant are here for the Mistress.” David kissed the top of my head and waved his hand, dismissing me. I lingered only a moment longer in front of the mirror before I met Bess and went to get fitted for dresses.

She stared openmouthed at my hair, which she thought had been simply covered by my shawl. “Mistress….”

“Please Bess, I’m not your mistress yet. Call me Charlotte.”

 

I quickly learned that for all the hustle and bustle outside, London life was boring. Here you had to wait for someone to call on you or you had to make a big fuss about calling on them. I had to be the well-bred Charlotte Harrison, orphaned daughter of wealthy merchants and fiancée to Dr. David Covington, which meant I had to protect my reputation and his. I couldn’t simply do whatever I wished.

When people came to call, it was on my maker. He wouldn’t let me call on anyone until I was complete and, though he swore he was nearly done, that did not appear to be happening anytime soon.

I knew my maker well enough to know that even when he finished me he would spend years adjusting and fine tuning me until I finally became perfect. After all that is what he is trying to create. Perfection. It was arrogant really, for him to believe that he could create something perfect whereas the creations of God are all so flawed. It is all too deeply philosophical for me.

It meant that the man I thought of as my own personal god was deeply flawed, as evidenced by his arrogance, and that was hard for me to swallow.

The first of my dresses would be ready this afternoon, and the milliner had pushed out a bonnet to go with it. I could wear the boots I wore every day and my new dress to sneak out tonight. My maker would be holed up in his workshop or study, Bess never checked on me when I said I was going to sleep, and it would be easy to climb out my bedroom window.

I could explore all night and slip back in before dawn. Since I didn’t sleep anyway I wouldn’t seem tired.

So I waited patiently for the household to fall asleep. Somewhere around one in the morning my maker finally trudged into his room, softly calling “Goodnight Hope,” as he walked past and I responded in kind. As soon as I heard his door close I leapt off my bed and dressed as fast as I could. I had put my corset back on after Bess had left me for the night, and the bodice of my dress closed in the front so it took me no time at all.

I opened the window quietly and climbed out. I had assumed the climb would be easy, but I hadn’t factored for the weight of my dress. I still had less difficulty than a human would have had. I landed lightly on the ground and only wobbled slightly on the heels of my boots before I straightened back up and walked out the garden gate.

I wandered down towards the Thames River to see the construction on the new drawbridge, then I went into the part of the city that only comes alive at night. It was rowdy, loud, and smelled of piss but I couldn’t help but be excited. When a fight broke out in the street a boy of about twelve started calling bets I placed a small sum on the right man and ended up almost doubling my money.

I walked aimlessly past churches, houses, shops, and bars. When I saw a grime covered woman under wooden stairs trying to nurse an infant, with a second child crying next to her, I gave her the money I had won in the bet. When I approached she looked at me like I might be a rabid animal but she smiled when I dropped the money next to her. “God bless ye ma’am. God bless.”

Feeling very altruistic after my good deed I started to head home, making it back right as a distant crier announced it to be three in the morning. Then I simply climbed back up the way I had come down and undressed.

It had been an interesting night.

 

Three days later I was already planning to do it again. I would take some more money for that young mother and maybe some bread from the kitchen. Or I could take her my meals from the day, since they just ended up fertilizing the roses right outside of my window….

“Miss Charlotte, Master Covington would like to see you in his study.”

“I’ll be right there Bess.” Bess and I had come to be very friendly with each other lately. She was a very kind woman and she told me things about my maker that he probably would never tell me himself. I was helping her make quilts for orphaned children.

I knew my way around the large house by now so she went right back to her other work rather than escorting me. My maker’s office was guarded by large mahogany doors that shone in the light of the hall and I knocked on them firmly before entering. No one else would ever be able to get away with that.

He was sitting behind his desk, pouring over a book and several models though he did look up and smile at me when I walked in. “Come and have a look at this. I may have found the secret of making your skin able to feel.”

I went around to stand at his side and bent over what he was looking at. The book contained pictures of little tubes done in red and blue ink accompanied by text that was too cramped for me to read, in a handwriting I did not recognize. The models were obviously my maker’s work, they looked like they belonged inside me and they matched the drawings. “What are they?”

“Nerves. Humans have them in every part of their body as a way for their brains to command their bodies. You have wires for that, but I haven’t been able to give you skin sensation yet.” He sounded so excited that it was making me excited.

“Just muscle and bone sensations.”

“Yes, but those are faint and don’t always work. These would go in between layers of skin and give you the ability to feel textures, temperatures, even pain.”

“Why would I want to feel pain?” I glanced down at the bared stump of his arm.

“You have to take that in order to get the others. Trust me Charlotte, it is worth it. I am going to make a sample first, then graft it over your dorsal column in order to test it.” He reached up and touched my cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know what that feels like?”

“Yes, very much so. Of course I’ll do it.” I took his hand in mine and squeezed, wondering how his skin felt. Wondering how mine felt.

“Tonight we are meeting with a colleague of mine, Dr. Watling. He will be bringing his wife with him and I hope the two of you will be friends.” He paused. “I know you haven’t been very happy, and I know why. But we must be careful until you are complete. Dr. Watling knows about my attempts to create a synthetic human, having helped me in the beginning, and he would not have married Eliza if this sort of thing would bother her.”

“Wait are you saying he knows about me?” I couldn’t even register my shock, I was that shocked. He wasn’t supposed to have told anyone.

“Not exactly, he doesn’t know I have succeeded in creating a perfect synthetic human,” My spirits lifted at being called perfect. “But he knows I have tried. He will be honored and delighted to meet you Hope. Oh and I want you to wear your new blue velvet gown.” He flashed me a mischievous smirk, took his hand back, and stood up.

“The one you called ostentatious? I thought you didn’t like it.” We walked to the door and he opened it for me.

“The point of it is to be ostentatious, and I never said I didn’t like it. I like it a great deal. Now go get changed, we are meeting them in just over an hour.” He shut the door and I was dismissed. I summoned Bess to help me change and walked up the stairs thinking about him calling me perfect and that smile he had given me at the end.

 

My blue velvet dress was cut in a showy style with a very wide hoop and a train. It showed more décolletage than had been fashionable in Spain and I liked how it showed off my creamy skin. My maker, no David, kept glancing towards the exposed tops of my breasts. He tried to be discreet but he had made me too observant.

We had arrived before Dr. and Mrs. Watling so David had called the sommelier to bring a certain vintage wine to our private dining room and we sat quietly for a few minutes. Before long the maître’d led the couple to us and we stood up for introductions.

“Markus, Eliza, it is wonderful to see you. I would like for you to meet my fiancée Charlotte Harrison. Hope this is Dr. Markus Watling and Mrs. Eliza Watling.”

“I am pleased to meet you both. David has told me so much about you.” I clasped hands with Eliza, and Markus kissed my hand. Neither of them commented on David introducing me by one name, then addressing me by another. Only he called me Hope.

“I’m amazed that David is engaged, and to such a lovely young lady. I have known him most of my life and he is hard to please.” Markus chuckled. “He’s like a brother to me so I love you for his sake.”

Eliza laughed. “Please forgive my husband, he is very dramatic. We are positively charmed to meet you Charlotte. I’m glad to see you again David.”

“I shouldn’t make dinner conversation heavy so early on,” David pulled out my chair and I sat, as Markus did the same for Eliza. “But I’m afraid this is more than a social call.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Markus was immediately concerned. “You came back from Spain in a rush.”

“Whatever it is, we’re here for you. You can always call on us,” Eliza added.

“I came back from Spain so quickly because of Charlotte. You see Charlotte Hope Harrison is my first success in synthetic human creation.” The silence around the table varied from person to person. David was waiting for his friend’s reaction, Markus was processing the information, Eliza appeared to think they were playing a trick on her, and I was simply waiting on what David would do next.

“Synthetic human creation…you finally got it to work? You made Charlotte?” At first Markus sounded apprehensive, but that quickly changed to excited. “All of those years and all of that work finally paid off! You gave your pound of flesh to the project and look what happened.”

“Will someone please explain to me what you are talking about?” Eliza was now looking alarmed and I felt bad for it. She seemed like a very nice woman.

“Mrs. Watling I am not a born, flesh-and-blood human. David created me in his workshop to be the perfect human being. I am made of gold and wax, copper and glass and….Well it is a strange thing. It is like leather, but David mixed it.”

“For years Markus and I worked to create a synthetic human. Eventually he wanted to devote more of his time to his medical practice and less to my hair brained scheme, but I never gave up on wanting to create a person. So I applied my medical knowledge to my mechanical knowledge and through ten years of intense labor and devotion I created Charlotte.” David’s voice held a note of pride at the end and he held my hand comfortingly.

“I-I don’t understand.” She forced a smile. “But then I never understand all of this science and these inventions. If you made a person then you made a person. Charlotte have you been baptized?”

“No I’m afraid I never will be. People tend to think I’m….” I couldn’t tell this lady that they thought I was an evil abomination. She was trying to like me, I didn’t want to sway her opinion.

“Oh of course, I’m terribly sorry. Well if ever you need a friend, you have one in me. It is very shocking at first to be told that you are a walking doll, but now that I’m over that shock it’s not a bad thing. David wouldn’t keep you around if you were a bad person.” She smiled genuinely this time and grasped my other hand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Watling. This means a great deal.”

“Oh please, call me Eliza. Everyone does.”

Marcus finally spoke up again. “I’m amazed that you had a success. Was it your arm? Is that how you discovered how to create her?”

Now it was my turn to be shocked. No one brought up David’s missing arm, but Markus had addressed it so casually. “It was an inspiration to see the inside of my limb. It did help me with the structure of her body, but that was the easy part. She came to life by the will of God, not anything that I did.”

“So you don’t know how it happened?”

“It was a miracle. She is blessed by God, or I am because I now have the world’s most faithful companion. If you come by my house this week I can show you some of what I have done. I constructed extra pieces in case one breaks and I need to replace it.”

Dinner progressed this way through ten courses and three hours. Eliza was perfectly comfortable in my presence in just a few minutes, and she constantly asked me to explain what the two doctors were saying. She was by no means stupid or uneducated, but this wasn’t a subject with which she had familiarity. I didn’t mind explaining what of it I knew.

Markus went back and forth asking David and me questions. He asked David the technical questions of how I work, and then asked me what it was like and what I could do. He was fascinated and I enjoyed the attention.

When Eliza excused herself to go to the powder room I followed hoping to ask her a question that had been on my mind for a while. After she finished her necessaries I stopped in front of the mirror to admire my gown and posed my question. “Eliza do you know what happened to David’s arm?”

She hesitated. “I know that he lost it ten years ago, right before he went to Spain. If I understand correctly he had some sort of accident that required it to be amputated or it would have killed him. We have this problem where if our muscles are crushed for too long they start to atrophy and release toxic amounts of potassium into our blood which will stop our hearts. I imagine it can’t happen to you.”

“No, it can’t. Do you know any more than that?” I was amazed she knew about the atrophy, but this was the wife of a doctor. It shouldn’t have been surprising.

“You would have to ask Markus, or it would be better to ask David.”

“I have asked David. He never answers.”

“Then you do not need to know. He will tell you one day Charlotte, but men are never happy unless they have secrets.”

“When I heard Markus mention David giving a pound of flesh and using it as inspiration to make me, I wondered if you didn’t both know. I suppose not.”

“I would have thought that David would make himself a new arm. He clearly has the technology if he made you.”

“I had thought that he would too, but I don’t know that a mechanical part can be attached to a human limb. It might not work.” Arm in arm we walked back to our private dining room. The men had already settled the check and were just waiting on us.

“There you are! It never ceases to amaze me how long women stay in a powder room. But with two so lovely as you, I guess it was hard to tear your eyes from your reflections.” Markus laughed at his own joke and helped Eliza back into her coat. David brought me mine and helped me as much as he could one handed.

As we bid farewell to the Watlings I decided that I would build an arm for David so that he was no longer inconvenienced by the loss of limb.

Author's Note

The first chapter is always the hardest for me. And the formatting sucks, because WC wouldn't keep the formatting I had from Word.