Glass eyes in painted sockets opened and shut in the semi-darkness.
There were children near.
Many children.
Painted hands stiffly flexed, testing old joints in the wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips and knees.
Children were what it had been made for.
The tinkle of glass as it shattered, raining down on the polished floor, an alarm going off, feet running towards, drowning out the slight patter of tiny feet in kidskin boots.
It had to find the children.
Children were what it had been made for.
The security guard who had been leaning against the front desk of the hospital talking up the nurses at four in the morning ran into the room, nightstick out; there was no intruder, only a fan of broken glass on the floor of the case which had held a priceless antique German doll, the crown jewel of the antique toy exhibition fundraiser sponsored by DataCorp.
Somewhere, light footsteps pattered through the hallways of the big hospital complex, searching for children…