Servos set my hips swaying to draw attention from the pumps screwed to my feet and the silk stockings covering my stainless steel legs. Metal screeched. Steam blasted the air. And the smell of coal dust enveloped me like a blanket as the train approached the platform.

It slowed to a stop, and humans poured out. I cocked my head, lowering the tulle veil of my hat over the crack in my porcelain cheek. The damage hadn’t affected the underlying mechanisms, but it marred the illusion of humanity.

After a cursory check of the car, the porter punched my ticket and waved me aboard. The steel deck thrummed underfoot, sending vibrations through my metal frame. Comforted by the heartbeat of the powerful engine, I found my seat.

A man dressed in the blue coveralls of a roboticist jogged down the platform. I ducked my head as he accosted the porter. “Have you seen an automaton?"

"Here? No robots are allowed on the platforms. They’re kept strictly to the service yard."

"Humph. I’ll check myself," the man bullied past the porter, and my servos seized.

A whistle shrieked, and the train pulled away from the station ahead of schedule. Its engine chugged, gaining speed. I looked back and watched as the roboticist slipped into the distance. The clack of wheels on the tracks hid the sound of servos in my arm and pistons in my fingers as I patted the steel car.

"Thank you, old friend."

The train whistled in response.

Photo by Karol Smoczynski