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Something was wrong with Spring.
He did not notice at first; constantly going in an out of the hotel at the strangest hours of the night and only staying put long enough for Father to repair whatever damage he had suffered meant a lot of things happened around him that he did not immediately see; even when he did, it rarely occurred to him that he should ask about it. More often than not, he reached his own conclusions.
Therefore, when he next saw Spring and it seemed to him that she was bigger than before, his conclusion was that she had put on some weight – a concept Belle had briefly explained to him once. It did not cross his mind to ask Eugenie why she would have started feeding the cat so much, and he did not notice how much Spring slept. What he did notice, however, was how affectionate she had become. Whenever he pushed open the doors of Hotel Krat, even in the dead of the night when everything between the walls was still and quiet, she rushed to meet him, sometimes meowing excitedly, and rubbed against his leg until he paid attention to her, purring so loud it made her whole body vibrate. A far cry from how she originally hissed and glared down at him from the top of a wardrobe. He assumed it meant he was finally getting the hang of this 'humanity' thing.
He thought nothing more of it.
The weeks passing, he continued not to notice. At that point, Spring's abdomen had become swollen; it swayed slightly from side to side like a wineskin as she walked, and she had some trouble jumping. It had gotten to the point that P no longer saw her lounging on top of the key holder behind the front desk, which had up until now been one of her favorite spots to survey the lobby from. How food worked was a mystery to him but, as a general rule, too much fuel could prove harmful for machines, so it seemed logical to assume it was the same with living beings and nutrients. Yes, it only made sense.
He thought of balloons. He wondered if Spring might explode at this rate.
*
* *
“Huh?” Eugenie said. “What about Spring?”
She looked up from what she was tinkering with – the dismantled head of what used to be an electric coil stick – and directly into his eyes. It was late. The glow of the nearby lamp casted elongated shadows across the floor. Specks of oil stained her glasses.
“The amount of nutrients she ingests...”
“Eats, pal,” Gemini corrected.
“Eats. She eats too much...”
“Food.”
“Food.”
Eugenie blinked.
“Oh. Does she? She eats more than before, it's true, but... you know. She needs to.”
P did not think so. You needed more fuel if you were accomplishing more tasks, but Spring was hardly as active as she used to be. He told Eugenie as much, and watched as the expression on her face morphed from casual surprise to what looked like uncertain confusion.
“Well, yes, but... It's normal, given the circumstances. You know.”
P did not know. He tilted his head at a 45° angle, something he had seen Venigni do on the rare occasions something perplexed him. It took a second, but understanding flashed in Eugenie's eyes.
“Oh,” she said. “You don't know. Um... You see, the reason why Spring has gained weight is because she is... expecting.”
“Expecting,” P repeated.
“Yes.”
He stared blankly. For the longest time, Eugenie stared back.
“Kittens,” she clarified. “She is expecting kittens. Young cats. Spring is going to be a mother. Do you understand?”
Not at all. His face must have shown it because, before he could even lie about it, Eugenie let out a loud, huge sigh.
“You don't know how kittens are made,” she guessed, and as she said that, it seemed to sink in. She frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. For some reason, her ears were slowly turning beet red. “I am not having this conversation with you.”
“I told you, pal. This is not something just anyone will explain to you,” Gemini trilled, uncomfortable.
The cricket had indeed said that earlier, but he had this tendency to say many things, sometimes at once, and P did not always listen – purely and simply because not everything Gemini said was relevant.
“Wait,” Eugenie said, then snapped. “Your cricket knows? And he couldn't explain it to you?”
At that, the light emitting from Monad's Lamp flickered.
“Call me old-fashioned but I thought it... rude to explain it myself. You know... as a man.”
“You are a cricket!”
“Yes, well, I'm a male cricket!”
To P, this was neither here nor there, yet both Eugenie and Gemini seemed to think differently, as they kept arguing for several minutes. He listened carefully, hoping one of them would eventually say something that would make it all make sense, but no such thing happened. Disappointing.
Maybe Venigni would be willing to explain.
*
* *
Weeks passed. P had had no luck with Venigni (who had successively stared, laughed awkwardly, coughed, cleared his throat and then pointedly looked away until the subject was dropped), but it did not matter. If Spring was alright, then what need did he have to know what having kittens meant? He had more important matters to take care of – places that Geppetto urgently needed him to clean up, puppets he wanted him to destroy – and no time to squander musing over the state of the hotel's cat... Father's words, not his. He shouldn't have brought it up.
Whenever he made it back to Hotel Krat, he tried not to pay attention to Spring, which proved difficult on account of how determined she seemed to rub against his legs as soon as he came into view. After trying for so long to earn her trust, it felt like a waste. But weren't his efforts to earn it a waste to begin with? How was getting an animal's affection even remotely important in this situation? It wasn't, he decided. Maybe after he was done with everything Father had tasked him to do, he could focus on Spring again, but not now. If that made him lose all the progress he had made, then so be it.
He went back out there in the streets of Krat, only coming back when he needed Eugenie to fix a weapon or Geppetto to fix him. By now, it was only a matter of a few days before he would reach the Opera House where the King of Puppets waited. Maybe less if he got lucky, but that had seldom been the case. One rainy evening, after painstakingly fighting his way through Rosa Isabelle Street and putting down a towering, giggling clown puppet on the slope leading to the Opera House, P came back to Hotel Krat with a dislocated Legion Arm, drenched yet smelling like a forest fire. He was making his way towards the reception desk, trying not to leave puddles of oil and water in his trail, when a voice called for him. He stopped, turned, and saw Eugenie hurrying in his direction, her braid bouncing off her back at every step.
“Finally you're here! Where have you been?” she inquired, then, without giving him any time to answer, added: “It doesn't matter. You have to see this!”
This was the fastest P had ever heard her speak, and for a moment he simply stood there, confused. There was an unusual glint in Eugenie's eyes that somehow changed the way her whole face looked. At least it didn't seem like she was going to reprimand him for making a mess.
“See... what,” he asked.
“The kittens!” she exclaimed, her voice rising excitedly. “Spring gave birth yesterday, you have to see them! Come on, hurry up!”
She grabbed his arm, so he had no other choice but to follow her as she led him out of the lobby, past the staircase. At first, he thought she was taking him to her workshop, but instead they turned into the narrow hallway where Alidoro used to loiter, walking between the ranks of Realism-style paintings that adorned the walls. P knew that Spring liked to curl up on the varnished antique loveseat next to the grandfather clock – he supposed it was as good a spot as any other, and the tranquility of this isolated little area must be a bonus – but she was not there. Instead, Eugenie pulled him to the left towards a console table.
She crouched down, put her finger to her mouth, then ordered in a hushed voice:
“Be quiet, and don't touch them.”
Having no idea what to expect, P lowered himself on one knee and looked under the console. What he saw made him forget about his displaced wrist.
Much like a bird in its nest, Spring lied on her side in a cardboard box that had been filled with towels and what looked like several layers of newspapers. Whether Eugenie or someone else had prepared it, P could not even begin to guess. She was no longer uncomfortably bloated – in fact, she looked pretty much exactly how she used to, long and thin, give or take a few dozens of ounces. Snuggled against her were... were...
He did not know what these were.
“Let me see, pal,” Gemini trilled. “I like cats. Don't keep them all to yourself.”
Lost, overwhelmed and unsure of what was going on, but having half a mind to argue, P unhooked Monad's Lamp from where it hanged off his belt and set it down on a nearby velvet stool. Gemini went quiet. Eugenie was quiet too. Wordless wonder filled the air.
“Heaven's to Betsy, they are cute,” Gemini finally uttered.
“They're always cute,” Eugenie added, nodding. “I love the orange one, he's my favorite.”
“He is particularly round. Like a potato.”
“They're all rather potato-shaped, honestly.”
P looked at them, one after the other, absolutely astounded by how little this exchange made sense to him. He could count on one hand how many times he had ever been this speechless. What was this all about? What were they talking about? Frowning, he looked back at the cardboard box. The wiggling little fluffy things around Spring certainly were the center of their attention; they were, after all, reminiscent of raw potatoes in their shapes, to some extent. Were they? That did not seem right. Potatoes did not move, nor were they furry. Just a few minutes ago, Eugenie had told him that Spring had given... some word he had never heard before... to kittens. Was that it, then?
“Kittens,” he asked. Tried to ask.
He was not entirely sure. Looking more closely, they looked a little like Spring, only much smaller – small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Their eyes were shut tight, and the tip of their paws pink. Soft, clear claws brushed against the towels they lied on. One of them, the orange one, squirmed clumsily in its sleep. He had a hard time imagining any of them jumping on top of the key holder, and especially this one.
“That's right, pal. They're kittens. Young cats, if that's easier to understand. They're Spring's, er... creations. That's about as simple as I can make it for you.”
“Aren't they adorable?” Eugenie nudged him with her elbow. “What do you think?”
P reflected on it for a moment. So Spring had made these kittens, just like Father had made him. That much he understood. Now, how in the world had she built them was beyond him, as it seemed impossible on account of her being a cat, but something told him he risked asking this question under penalty of Gemini and Eugenie arguing just like last time, and so decided to keep his mouth shut.
He looked at the kittens for a long time. Stared hard. Trying to see what the others were seeing. His head filled with that vague wave of heat that killing Mad Donkey and listening to the weeping woman's sobs had caused. It was faint, barely even noticeable, yet also overwhelming. In his chest, the P-Organ began to race. At the same time, a strange serenity spread throughout his cogs and gears. He remembered some document he had read weeks ago, something about a maid puppet named Camille that had caught and saved a baby after it had fallen from a crib despite such function being absent from her design: Send. Me. Back. To. My. Child.
He had not understood then. Now, he thought maybe he did.
He did not realize he was reaching for the kittens until Spring, swift as the wind, swatted at his hand. Her claws caught briefly on his sleeve, then sank into the faux-skin of his thumb, leaving behind deep scratches.
“Ah,” he said.
Spring hissed at him. Eugenie let out a deep sigh, which should have sounded exasperated but instead came out betraying some amusement.
“Didn't I tell you not to touch them?”
She had. He remembered now. Somehow, looking at the kittens had made him forget. How it could have, he had no clue, but that had happened, no doubt. For a moment, he looked at the scratch marks on his thumb, curious. Yet another thing Geppetto would need to fix later. He opened his mouth to ask why Spring had done that, especially after she had been so affectionate lately, but then closed it. Another look at the kittens, and he thought he knew why.
Somewhere in his chest, his springs reacted.