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I had just moved out of my parent's home and had my own studio apartment on the boardwalk. The space was reserved for an apprentice for a taffy shop that I would one day inherit. I was learning all I could about the sweets my Cathy had loved so much.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the knock. The shopkeeper was away on business, and nobody else knew me or cared to visit. I went to the door, slid the metal plate aside and peeked out. Corin Longchamps stood on the other side.

I greeted him cautiously and led him into my empty kitchen. He threw bundles of vellum down on my kitchen table, hysterically ranting about voice samples and algorithms. I couldn't begin to make sense of it.

When he didn't stop rambling madness and continued to pace about my flat, I offered him the last of my whiskey, hoping it might calm his nerves. Politely, he refused.

"Imagine an automaton that could answer questions or perhaps even ask them," Corin said suddenly.

"Like one of your birds?"

"I have samples of Cathy's voice. We can bring a part of her back." Corin had a wild look in his eyes that made me uneasy.

He unrolled one of the sheets of vellum. It was covered in intricate notes and sketches depicting a mechanical woman. There was something so ghoulish about recreating the woman I had loved as a machine. The project was appallingly similar to raising her from her crypt.

"Think of her father," Corin pleaded. He must have seen that this mention of Leonardo had broken through to me, for he nodded emphatically and continued to expound upon the concept of a mechanical Cathy.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"You were her best friend. You know her favorite candies, her sense of humor, her greatest fears. I want all of that."

I insisted we name her the Nightingale. I refused to refer to her as Cathy, as I still had trouble saying her name at all. The engineer and I put our differences aside and created something beautiful. Corin created the metallic shell and I filled her up with the depth of Cathy's personality.

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