The unfinished thing lay in the corner, a heap of disjointed parts. An android, of sorts. I never knew what it was for, but it was human, in a sense. It had two feet, two hands. The face, though, that was the most human of it all. He was a great artist as well as a genius inventor. That copper plated face seems so human whenever I look at it. It lies dreaming, its eyes unlit, expressionless.
There were so many wonderful things he left unfinished, but every time I go into his old workshop, that’s the one that gets me. It’s like a child waiting for him, waiting to be born, but I can’t put the pieces together. No one can. He built so many beautiful, wonderful things, and he had dreamed up a thousand more, but this was left unfinished.
Now it lies there collecting dust, parts that never made a whole, a tale untold.
Tale Told 