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Your Springs Are Reacting...
It began with Hotel Krat’s security. Normal puppets couldn’t lie, Sophia had told him. So go on, lie to that voice at the door.
‘Human,’ Pinocchio had answered, and just like that he felt something. A flutter in his chest; an errant spring, or maybe a tiny cog missing a gear. Concerning at first, but it seemed to cause no further malfunctions. The p-organ remained fully operational. He could continue following Sophia’s orders.
He had all but forgotten the incident until that house in Elysion Boulevard. The woman crying at her window. He had returned her baby to her, it was only the polite thing to do. Yes it was a puppet baby, broken beyond repair— but a baby was a baby. It was cute to look at, and Pinocchio told her so. Lady Antonia had taught him that a lie, when said for the right reasons, could be just as important as the truth. The woman was so happy.
There it was again. He touched his chest in surprise, the springs inside him fluttering like butterflies. It didn’t feel wrong as such, just... unexpected. He wouldn’t be adverse to it happening again, Pinocchio thought to himself, looking at the gramophone record the baby’s mother had given him.
The Ergo Is Whispering...
The King of Riddles had done something. He must have. Pinocchio only just had time to hang the phone receiver back on its hook before his springs leapt. He could hear them ring in his ears— the loud twang as something coiled up and jumped. He didn’t know puppets could get light-headed.
‘You alright, pal?’ Gemini chirped, concerned that his friend had sat down in the dirt so suddenly.
It took Pinocchio took a moment to respond, one hand on his heart and his head cocked to listen. ‘I think... it was a hard riddle, Gemini. I’ve never solved a riddle before.’
‘Hmph. Better you than me— I’m lousy at puzzles,’ the cricket replied. ‘You gonna dust yourself off then? This Venigni guy had better be worth the hassle Geppetto’s putting us through!’
Every time Pinocchio lied, or helped people, or tried to copy humans in some small way, his mechanical springs would flutter. He looked forward to it. The feeling was... good. Yes, that was the word. Good. Pinocchio thought about telling Father, but decided against it. Father had lots of important work to do. He was always so busy, in that office of his.
When Geppetto’s puppet finally laid Archbishop Andreus to rest, he breathed a sigh of relief. That poor man had been punished enough by his own greed, now at least his tortured remains couldn’t hurt anyone else.
‘Hold up a second, what the heck was that?’ Gemini bounced around in his lantern.
‘What the heck was what, Gemini?’ Pinocchio liked that word. Heck. It sounded funny.
‘You just made a weird noise!’
‘No I didn’t.’
Gemini flashed green. ‘Yes you did, pal! You sighed! Like, a proper sigh! How’d you do that? It sounded real!’
Pinocchio didn’t know. Maybe a malfunction of his voice-box? He didn’t use his voice nearly as much as Polendina or Pulcinella, maybe it was going rusty. ‘I will ask Father to fix it,’ he declared. ‘He would worry if I am broken.’
Gemini had not expected the old man to make time for them that very same afternoon. Any other complaint and he would always be like “I’m far too busy my precious son,” or “Can’t one of the others help you? I’m so tired today.” But when Pinocchio even mentioned his mechanics not working right, Geppetto looked downright panicky.
‘Is it your heart, son?’ Geppetto jumped up from his desk. If he’d moved any faster he’d have gone out the window. ‘Have you stressed your gaskets? I told you to be careful out there—’
‘It’s not his heart, Mr Geppetto sir,’ chirped Gemini. If he waited for the kid to interrupt his own father, they’d be here all day. ‘Pinocchio’s making this weird noise with his voice, but he doesn’t do it on purpose. He doesn’t do it all the time either, so we were wondering if you could take a look.’
‘Oh, is that all?’ Geppetto visibly relaxed. He gestured to the red chair in the corner. ‘Take a seat then son, we’ll see what’s going on in there.’
Not that he’d ever tell Father, but Pinocchio hated the red chair. The light above it was too bright. He could never see what Father was doing when his chest compartment was open either, and it made him feel... nervous.
This time Geppetto did not speak at all when he opened him up. He stood back and frowned, stroking his beard. Then he leant forward and squinted. He adjusted his monocle.
‘Is something... wrong, Father?’ Pinocchio asked, more nervous than ever. He could hear his heart beating faster under Geppetto’s stare.
‘Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing, son.’ The frown vanished, replaced by a smile. The smile was a lie. ‘No malfunctions, and no “weird noises”. Are you sure Gemini’s not imagining things?’
The puppet cricket buzzed angrily in his lantern, though Father ignored him. Most times Geppetto let him out to provide extra light as he worked, but today Monad’s Lamp was on the floor by his desk. What a strange thing to do, Pinocchio thought. Now Gemini couldn’t see a thing.
Geppetto closed the compartment again and patted his shoulder. ‘Just be careful, son. Never tell lies, alright? Lies are for very bad boys, and you are a good boy. Always be a good boy for me.’
The boy puppet nodded and made to leave. ‘Yes, Father,’ he lied.
You Feel Warmth...
The King of Puppets crumpled to the ground in flames. Other fights had gone by so easily, but today... Pinocchio couldn’t quite put his finger on it. This one was different, somehow. It was fast, it was difficult, it was—
Hot.
The flames felt hot.
He shied away from them and fled backstage. The King’s play had been confusing, his behaviour illogical, but with these things at least Pinocchio could grasp what it was he wasn’t getting. Temperature though... that was a new one. He didn’t like it at all.
‘Pal? You’re, uh, looking a little flustered there. Are your gears overheating?’
Gemini obviously didn’t understand what was going on either, and Pinocchio never had the right words.
He took off his coat and flapped it about a bit. Still too hot. ‘I don’t think it’s my gears, Gemini. I’m not sure what’s going on—’
He heard a familiar sound. The sound of rain. Rain was supposed to be cooler, wasn’t it?
If Geppetto had been surprised to see his son burst out of the backstage door and march straight into the downpour, he didn’t show it. He just carried on talking as though nothing had happened. Neither did he react when said drenched puppet donned his soggy coat again a while later and wrapped it about himself, shivering slightly.
Pinocchio had never shivered before. He decided he didn’t like the cold either.
‘Go to the Grand Exhibition,’ his father told him, ‘See what you can find.’
He would go there, he absolutely would. As soon as he could stop himself shaking.
Eugénie had been scrubbing oil off her worktable when she heard the Stargazer’s tell-tale jingle. Jingle was the perfect word for it— every time someone used the giant machine in the lobby, there was a sound not unlike a whole stack of crystal balls thrown down the stairs. No, that was a stupid description. It was... prettier than that. Sparkly? Ugh. There was a reason Eugénie was a weaponsmith and not a poet.
She popped her head round to look, but saw no-one there. Now that was weird. Only Pinocchio and Geppetto liked to travel by Stargazer, and both would at least say hello before vanishing off.
Eugénie saw the footprints at the same time that Polendina did.
‘Apologies Miss Eugénie,’ the butler puppet swiftly rounded the reception desk to fetch a mop, ‘I’ll have this cleared up in no time. He’s gone upstairs, by the way.’
Eugénie wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Who’s gone upstairs?’
‘Our young friend Pinocchio, Miss. He looked rather... cold.’ Polendina would have raised his eyebrows, if that were possible. Eugénie’s own eyebrows more than made up for it. ‘Perhaps you should take a blanket with you? Lady Antonia keeps several more spares in the linen closet, should you need them.’
Pinocchio nearly jumped when the doors to Geppetto’s office barged open. He’d half-expected it to be Father, furious that his carefully-placed sofa had been dragged over to the fireplace and rucked up the whole carpet.
But it wasn’t Father.
‘Aigo, I thought Polendina was joking!’ Eugénie cried, ‘Have you two been swimming? You’re completely soaked through!’
‘Boy are we glad to see you, Eugénie!’ Gemini piped up when Pinocchio couldn’t speak. His teeth chattered too much for words— what was wrong with him?
‘You’re actually cold,’ Eugénie read his mind. Her mouth dropped open. ‘I can’t believe it; you’re like, really feeling the cold— how is that even possible?’
It took all of Pinocchio’s coordination just to shrug.
‘That means neither of us have a single clue,’ Gemini helpfully translated for him. ‘But that sure is a nice blanket you’ve got there— any chance you could throw it over my pal? I think his limbs have frozen up.’