Like Clockwork

And to the clockwork man was given a heart of flesh agreeable to the gears within him, to pump his oil like blood through a wrought iron body; and over his heart was mounted a glass door hinged with brass and padlocked shut, so that all in the town could see he bore an organ much like their own. 

Dr. Horstmann saw what he had made, and he pronounced it good, tucking the lock's key into a front pocket of his waistcoat. It would take only a single bullet to shatter the glass and puncture the clockwork man's heart, leaving him rigid as a statue. But the good doctor considered it worth the risk, to allay the fears of superstitious townsfolk. His creation was no monster; it was vulnerable, as anyone could plainly see. 

And it served a purpose, taking the place of a beloved blacksmith who had passed away that winter: Dr. Horstmann's only son.

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