A couple of seconds passed as each of them stared at the other, Wink not knowing what to say next and Poppy patiently waiting for one of them to continue the conversation.
when almost a minute had gone by in silence, Poppy quickly realized the full weight of the conversation had fallen on her and ripped her gaze from his, instead letting it fall on the rusted heap of parts he’d generously called a device. She scrunched up her face and, much to Wink’s concern (and disbelief), she marched towards the bundle of sharp corners and rust, and started pushing and prodding at various parts, hmming and humming as she did so.
“Miss...Algernon?” he started.
“Poppy,” she corrected absently, still fiddling with the device. She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing. Wink continued.
“Poppy,” he stepped towards her, hand raising a bit in a gesture of clemency, “I really don’t think you should be mssing with that thing unless you know what y-”
“The parts you used...they’re pretty terrible,” she interrupted, wiping the flakes of rust from her palms on her dress. Wink nearly winced as she made red smudges all over the white material. “Did you get them from the dump or something?” Her voice was still light and cheery, but her childlike bluntness still stung.
“Yes,” he replied, somewhat sheepishly.
“Well,” she raised her arms, her head cocked in comic exasperation, “you need better ones.”
Despite her guileless nature, Wink felt himself getting mighty peeved. Who was she, coming into his farm, acting like she knew what was what?
“I can’t help it,” he snapped, a bit more forcefully than he meant to, “I can’t afford the good stuff! Have you seen this place?” He gestured at the run-down pen, the decrepit state of the house, the lack of any farm animal except Ole Beth, “I can hardly put food on the-”
“Woah there, cowboy.” She gently set her hand on his arm as she chuckled. “Who said anything about buying things?” Her face brightened as whatever idea she’d had fully matured. “In fact...”
The words were no sooner out her mouth than she took off full speed down the road.
Shocked, Wink stood there for a second or two, then called out after her, “Why’re you in such a hurry?”
She turned to face him, only lightly panting, and called back, “It’s a surprise- I promise you’ll like it, though! Hold on- I’ll be back soon!”
And with that, she disappeared into the distance.
“Huh,” Wink said. He turned over to Ole Beth, her muzzle chin-deep in the ruined bag of feed. “You’re a female, what do you think?” The grizzled bovine looked up at him with a vacant expression in her timeworn eyes.
“Yeah, that’s ‘bout what I think too.” He sighed and patted her broad back.
Now, about that stew...
Wink looked at the dusty old grandfather clock then at the rest of the stew, slowly congealing over the fire. His stomach growled.
Where is she? He thought. It was approaching late afternoon, and there was still no sign of her.
Well, at least I get seconds then, he thought. He stood up and scooped up the last bit into his bowl, grabbed another hunk of bread, and prepared to dig in.
But...
He stopped and glared at his bowl, then the clock again. Why was he hesitating so much? Who cared what a random stranger thought? It wasn’t like he made enough for two anyway, right?
Then why did he feel so guilty? Why was he so disappointed that she didn’t show up? He shook his head and chuckled, forcing the spoon into his mouth as he did so.
The loneliness is getting to me, he thought in dark amusement as he tore into the buttery hunk of bread, Next thing you know I’ll be hearing voices in my head!
Despite this, when he lay down in his bed that night, no matter how exhausted he was, it was ages before he got to sleep. And even then, sleep was fitful, full of the pleasant, laughing face of Poppy, hovering just on the edge of consciousness.
Click clack whirr.
The creature observed him through the telescope. A boy, similar age. He must not know.
Click
A bribe? An offering, yes. It was what the master-
No.
It was what he willed.
Timing couldn’t have been better. His claws itched to practice his craft.
Clack
And so he took one of his Little Darlings and with inhuman precision that belied his shuddering frame, flesh became metal once more.