1
Across the town square, in Doctor Finklestein's elliptically structured home, the old man scowled at a bowl of ice cold, half-cooked oatmeal. Igor was an adequate laboratory assistant but a pathetic excuse for a cook. The doctor's estranged creation Sally had been an excellent cook almost from the start, most likely owing to some pre-existing aptitude in her brain. Jewel, Sally's replacement, was not such a natural, but had been coming along. Coming along, that is, until the problems began. She slipped into unconsciousness frequently. Doctor Finklestein initially saw that as little more than a glitch, some minor malfunction which would rectify itself in short order. As the weeks turned to months, he realized that something more critical was amiss. The woman was weak, barely able to get through preparing a meal without faltering or needing a rest. Housecleaning of the intensity that he preferred was practically impossible for her. Being that Jewel shared a brain with the old man, he had no reason to suspect that was the problem. No, it had to be elsewhere in her construction. Finally, Dr. Finklestein cleared one evening of other work and set about to determine the cause of Jewel's illness. He found the problem by process of intensive exploratory surgery. Her heart was malformed within. This morning she lay on the exam table, immobile. Temporarily "switched off" as it were. The doctor stabbed a tarnished spoon into his breakfast.
"I would send you looking for a replacement Igor, but seeing that mess who knows what you would come back with.", he growled. "I am at a loss. She can be fixed of course, and I shall fix her, but blast this nuisance of a problem! I'm too old to go gallivanting through potter's fields and you're obviously useless!"
"Biscuit?", Igor asked
"Absolutely not! No biscuit!"
Igor sniffled.
Morning found Sally content. She stretched under the blankets, basking in security and warmth. During her life with Dr. Finklestein, Sally had been required to rise before the sun. She began chores even before the old man was out of bed himself. Jack made no such demands of her, in fact he made no demands at all. He was utterly confused those first weeks of their cohabitation when Sally would awaken in the dark, no matter how late or pleasantly sleepless the night. She'd leave their bed, intent on performing some apparently urgent task. She scrubbed floors, washed the cracked window panes, mended every fray, moth hole, and loose button she could find in Jack's clothing. As puzzling as her behavior was to Jack, Sally was equally bewildered by his insistence that she relax. They eventually reached a happy compromise. Now, Sally slept in from time to time, though to her it remained the height of decadence.
She turned onto her back, looking up at the irregularly placed wooden beams spanning the octagonal ceiling.
"It's real", she whispered. "Really real."
Sally murmured those words to herself every morning like a mantra. She stood from the bed, steadied herself for a moment, then dressed. She combed her hair, a formidable task in itself, then selected a tiny square box from her drawer of the dresser. Her necklace. Before putting it on, Sally laid the pendant in her center of her hand. She smiled. Yet another gift from the Pumpkin King, it was a small silver heart surrounding a blue stone. A star-sapphire Jack had called it. Sally placed the necklace around her neck and secured the clasp. She climbed down from the tower with no small amount of difficulty. The rest of the staircases in Jack's home were relatively easy for her, but those twisting spiral steps were a trial. Before heading out into town Sally performed yet another daily ritual. One hand on the doorknob, she paused, placed her hand to the silver necklace, and took a deep breath.