The Clockmaker's Apprentice
Young Tobias sat on the clockmaker's lap, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace and listening to the wondrous stories his surrogate father told.
"... and once Berta found her way out of the woods, she returned to her grandmother's cottage and never disobeyed the old woman again," Guillaume concluded his tale.
"Tell me another story," the boy urged.
"It's getting late. I ought to be in bed sleeping at this hour."
"Please! Just a short one, or if not a story, then tell me about the time when you found me and brought me here to live with you."
"Don't you ever get tired of hearing about that day?"
Tobias shook his head and eagerly awaited the clockmaker's tale.
"Very well, then. One last story. It was early winter, and it had been snowing all night. When I woke up that morning, I looked down at the farms in the valley below. I saw smoke coming out of all the chimneys except one."
"My parents' house," the boy said, knowing the details of the story by heart.
"Yes. There was no fire burning in your parents' hearth. I quickly donned my greatcoat and snow boots and made my way down the mountain trail. When I arrived at the house, I saw that the fire had gone out during the night. Both your parents were gravely ill, but, thank God, you were in good health. I quickly bundled you up and started a fire to warm you. Then I went to get help for your parents. Alas, there was nothing that could be done. Within a matter of days, they were gone."
"And you took me in."
"My wife and I had no children, and you had no other family."
"I remember your wife but not my parents," Tobias said, the corners of his mouth turning down to a frown.
"Sadly, not long after I brought you here, my poor Katia went to heaven."
"And now all we have is each other."
Guillaume tightened his hold on the boy.
"Yes, my little man," he replied affectionately. "All we have is each other."
* * *
At that time few youngsters in the small Swiss mountain village attended school. Most of them followed in the footsteps of their parents: the boys became farmers, tradesmen or shopkeepers and the girls, wives and homemakers. It was common for craftsmen back then to take in children and teach them a trade in exchange for room and board. In Guillaume's case, he would teach his ward all his clock-making skills.
Tobias was quick to learn the craft. This was as Guillaume expected since the child had always been very bright.
When Tobias became too old for fairy tales, the boy would sit in front of the fire at night with the clockmaker and talk. The conversations touched on many subjects since he was curious about the world around him, a world he had seen very little of in his short lifetime.
"Where and when did you meet your wife?" he asked Guillaume one evening.
"I met her in the village when I was a young man. I was delivering a watch I had repaired to the tailor, and she was there delivering a pair of shoes—she was the cobbler's daughter, you see. Ah! What a beauty she was! Lucky for me, there were few eligible men in the village, and within a few months she accepted my proposal of marriage."
"Do you think there's a girl for me in the village?" Tobias asked hopefully.
"We must wait and see. No one knows what awaits us in the future."
"Future wife or not, I would still like to go to the village someday."
Guillaume smiled and patted the boy's head.
"You shall, but not yet. You must wait until you are older, for it is not an easy trek to travel the steep slopes of the Alps. Until then you have a lot of work to keep you busy right here. In addition to learning everything there is to know about clocks, you have chores to do inside and out in the garden. And you have to get better at reading and writing. You'll need to know these things if you want to live among the people in the village."
"But I don't want to live there; I only wish to visit. I want to stay here with you forever."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm getting older," Guillaume confessed. "I won't live forever, and when I'm gone ...."
"No! Don't say any more. I don't want to talk about it."
"All right, Tobias. We'll leave this discussion for another day."
* * *
The clockmaker lived in a small chalet, consisting of only three rooms. The largest, dominated by the stone fireplace, was where Guillaume cooked and ate his meals and sat in his easy chair in the evening. The other two rooms, much smaller than the first, were bedrooms where he and Tobias slept. A separate building, only a few feet from the chalet, housed the clockmaker's workshop. It was divided into two rooms. The smaller one, which had direct access from the outside door, was where the craftsman and his apprentice repaired and built timepieces. Its furnishings included a long, wooden workbench, a cabinet for his tools and several shelves for clocks and watches. Tobias had spent many hours in this workroom as a young boy watching the clockmaker at work and later as an apprentice toiling beside his teacher.
There was, however, the second room in the building, one that could only be entered by going through a narrow door in the corner of the workshop, a door the clockmaker kept locked at all times. In his younger years, Tobias questioned Guillaume about the room.
"What's in there?"
"That is where I keep my most valuable creations," the clockmaker replied.
"Can I see them?"
"No, I'm afraid not. You are but a child, and you have a tendency to bump into things. The pieces I keep in there are extremely delicate and fragile. If you were to knock one off a shelf, it would easily break, and years of work would be lost."
"When I get older, can I see them?" Tobias asked eagerly.
"Yes, my boy. When I feel the time is right, I will unlock the door and let you go inside."
Tobias never forgot the clockmaker's promise. One day when Guillaume proudly told his apprentice that he had mastered the skills of his craft, the lad again asked about the locked room. Despite Tobias's age, the clockmaker was hesitant about letting him inside.
"Please. I promise I won't touch anything," his ward urged.
With a heavy sigh, Guillaume opened a secret drawer in his workbench and took out a brass key. Tobias's pulse raced with anticipation as his mentor opened the door.
"Wait here," the clockmaker instructed. "I'll light the sconces so we can see."
As each candle was lit, more wondrous sights were revealed. Surprisingly, there were no clocks in the room. Instead, there were mechanical toys of all kinds, shapes and sizes. No wonder Guillaume had not wanted Tobias inside when he was younger, for no child could resist the temptation to play with one of those treasures.
"When did you make all these?" Tobias asked with appreciation.
"I began when I was an apprentice to the old clockmaker. At first, I made simple music boxes, which I sold to wealthy people who passed through the village. But as I got older I began experimenting, wanting to see just what I could create with gears, wheels and spring motors. In all modesty, I must say I became quite the artist. Then when I married, my wife helped me."
Guillaume picked up an elaborate music box that consisted of four mechanical monkeys wearing powdered wigs and elegant French suits. When the clockmaker wound the key, the monkeys played their miniature musical instruments.
"Katia sewed the clothing these monkeys are wearing, and she fashioned the wigs as well. Ah! We had such fun creating these pieces. We were like two children at play."
Tobias slowly made his way to the back of the room where the larger, more complex creations were located. His eyes immediately fell on a three-foot-tall clown, standing upright beside a table.
"What does this do?" he asked.
Guillaume wound the key in the clown's back. The mechanical head turned first to the left and then to the right. The clown reached up his hand, took off his hat and bowed. When he returned to an upright position, the mouth opened and a mechanical voice spoke.
Tobias couldn't understand the words the clown said, but it didn't matter. The fact that a mechanical doll could speak was marvel enough.
"What you have created here ... it is ... they are .... Words fail me!" the boy exclaimed. "Will you teach me to be a true artist like you? I want to spend the rest of my life making these fantastic mechanical toys. And maybe someday I will also find a wife to help me."
"Yes, my son, I will teach you. I suppose it is time."
* * *
One morning Guillaume awoke to the sight of Tobias standing at the foot of his bed, holding a fourteen-inch-high mechanical ballerina. He proudly presented it to the elderly clockmaker and instructed him to turn the key in the dancer's back. As music played, the doll raised one of its legs and gracefully pirouetted on its base.
Guillaume smiled and nodded his head.
"This is very fine work, indeed. You have learned well, my boy. There is but one thing I have yet to teach you: how to make one of these mechanical dolls talk."
The clockmaker handed the ballerina back to Tobias and pushed his blankets aside. He winced when he put his legs over the side of the bed.
"What's wrong?" Tobias asked with concern.
"It is nothing for you to worry about. I'm just getting on in years. My body suffers from the aches and pains brought on by old age; that's all," Guillaume lied, not wanting his apprentice to know that he was seriously ill.
"Why don't you get dressed while I make you breakfast?"
"That's a wonderful idea. Then, we will begin work on a talking doll."
After the old man finished drinking his tea, he and Tobias went to the workshop. Guillaume immediately began work on a metal skeleton. When his fingers became stiff from arthritis, he let his apprentice take over.
The two craftsmen worked side by side for more than a month. During that time, the clockmaker's illness became worse. He knew he didn't have long to live.
Finally, the mechanical figure was completed. All that remained were the details: the paintwork, clothes and wig.
"Are we going to make a clown suit for him?" Tobias asked, rifling through a box of Katia's old fabrics.
"No, he isn't a clown. In fact, he's not a he at all. This is going to be a girl."
"It' not to be another ballerina, I hope!" Tobias objected.
Guillaume picked out a length of lavender-flowered fabric and said, "I remember this material. Katia made a spring frock for herself with it. It was her favorite dress."
The clockmaker turned away so that Tobias would not see the tears in his eyes.
"She was buried in that dress."
While Tobias sewed the mechanical woman's costume, Guillaume painted the doll's face, neck, breastplate, feet and hands with a flesh tone color. Then he took a smaller brush and added the facial features, giving her blue eyes, rosy cheeks and red lips. Finally, he fashioned a wig out of yellow-dyed wool. When the flowered dress was put over her head and fastened at the back, the figure looked almost human.
"Where's the key?" Tobias asked, eager to see if the mechanics worked.
"Here it is. Wind it once, until you feel the resistance. Then it will work for years, without rewinding."
"Really? How is that possible?"
"It is a self-winding mechanism. When it moves, it winds itself."
"Amazing!"
Tobias carefully turned the key several times and then withdrew it from the doll's back when he felt resistance. Instantly, the automaton came to life. Her mechanical eyes moved from the apprentice to the clockmaker.
"Why doesn't it talk?" Tobias asked.
"She, not it. She will talk eventually. Although she is as tall as you are, she is basically just an infant. She must learn a great many things, including how to talk and walk. Then she will be a perfect companion for you."
"A companion?" Tobias asked with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I won't live forever, my son," the ailing Guillaume declared with a heavy heart. "In fact, I probably won't live to see the spring melt away this winter's snow."
"I know there will be a time when I must bury you—and I hope that day will not be for many, many years yet—but when it comes, then I will go down to the village and look for a wife there."
The clockmaker shook his head, and his face wore the look of unspeakable sadness.
"Do you remember all the tales I used to tell you when we sat before the fireplace in the evenings when you were young?"
"Of course, I do."
"Then you must recall the story of Geppetto and Pinocchio."
Tobias nodded his head, unable to speak because of the fear that was growing inside him.
"Old Geppetto had no children, so he built a boy made of wood, a marionette. My Katia and I were very happy. We had everything two people could want, everything except a child—just like Geppetto. Together, she and I made you, just as you and I made this automaton. You were our masterpiece: you could walk, talk, and more importantly you could think and you could feel. It was my Katia's greatest wish that after she died, you would remain here to give me comfort. That is why after she passed on I used her skin to cover your mechanical skeleton just as after I am gone, you will use my flesh to make your companion look more lifelike."
"What are these lies you are telling? You found me in the village. My parents died from a sickness, but I was alive."
"That was just another story I told you, one I made up because I didn't want you to know the truth: that you were a mechanical doll, not a human being."
"No. That's not true! It can't be true!"
"Think, Tobias. You are no bigger in size than you were when I held you on my lap and told you stories. Haven't you ever wondered why you don't get sick or tired, why you never feel pain or cold, and you don't eat or sleep?"
"I thought it was because I was young, that when I got older, like you, I would do so."
"I am sorry I led you to believe you were human, but it is not the end of the world. You are my Pinocchio, the son I created."
"I am not like Pinocchio because there is no fairy who can turn me into a real boy!"
"That is why I have created this companion for you. The two of you will live here together for many, many years. You will come to love her, as I grew to love you."
Tobias looked at the automaton, which was staring uncomprehendingly at the clockmaker, and was filled with loathing.
"I could never love that ... that thing!" he cried angrily.
"You will," Guillaume argued. "I promise you. You will love her because she is just like you. You are two of a kind."
As though a mirror had been help up to him to reveal his true reflection, Tobias looked at the automaton and finally believed the clockmaker's words.
"I hate her!" he screamed, feeling his resentment mount. "I hate her, and curse the day you opened that unlocked door and revealed the lie you kept hidden inside."
Tobias picked up a heavy hammer used for shaping metal and swung it at the clockmaker's treasures.
"These are not genuine monkeys!" he cried, demolishing the primate musicians. "And this isn't a real clown!"
With one forceful swing, he decapitated the three-foot-high jester.
Guillaume made no attempt to stop Tobias until he turned his wrath on the newly completed female automaton.
"No! You mustn't hurt her. She is innocent. It would be like killing a newborn baby."
"That thing is nothing but a collection of gears, rods, metal plates and clock parts."
With the strength of a finely tuned machine, Tobias tightened his grip on the hammer and swung. Guillaume stepped forward in an effort to protect his mechanical Eve. When the hammer crushed in the clockmaker's skull, Tobias's rage immediately left him.
"Father!" he cried in tortured anguish.
Guillaume could no longer hear the words of his automaton son, for the old clockmaker was dead.
"Oh, no! What have I done?"
Suddenly, a human tear escaped out of Tobias's mechanical eye and began its trail down his skin-covered metal cheek. Like the fabled Pinocchio, Tobias became a real boy, or rather, a young man. By the time the tear had traveled to his chin, he was every bit as human as Guillaume had been.
Strangely, as an automaton, he had known only happiness, but with his newly acquired humanity, he experienced unbearable loneliness, sorrow and guilt.
I am indeed human, Tobias realized, but I must take the bad with the good. I will now know pain and suffering, exhaustion and cold, and I will eventually die.
Another thought occurred to the newly born man, one that pierced his formerly mechanical heart like a dagger. He had taken his first step as a living, breathing human: he had learned how to kill.
Salem once turned himself into a mechanical cat. Unfortunately for him, it took him several months to find out where I'd hid the key!
