Kiln_230
Legacy Name: Kiln_230

I call out to the empty art room.

Tying the ribbons of my charcoal smock into a neat little bow in the back, I continue to stride towards the potter’s table positioned near the back of the studio. “Do you want to make something? I’m feeling creative.”

I smile to myself as the familiar sound of her crossing—also quite clearly sliding--on tile rings out.

tak tak taK TAk tAK kursHHHH—

I knew that would get her attention.

Skidding to a halt before me, the steamwork creation quickly replaces the echoes of her treading with new sound: a low, whirring hum. —Her tail, wagging like crazy.

“Well, aren’t you excited?” I crouch to better stroke the kumos. The lenses of her paneled eyes dilate, their sensors activating from the movement to then produce a series of ticking sounds in their own form of greeting.

Scooping a grayish, deformed chunk of clay from the bin, I pat my lower thigh to signal her to follow. “Come on.” The steamwork creation eagerly pads after me while I carry the lump of wet clay to a nearby sculpting station. Kiln then settles herself along on the opposing side of the table as I plop the gray material down onto its surface and press my palm into the mass, flattening it.

“You want to try?” I offer with a slight grin, catching sight of a set of incandescent, cobalt-blue eyes peeking over the edge of the station. The kumos growls playfully, knowing she was caught craning to catch a glance of what I was making. “I have no idea why you’re trying to be a ninja. You’re more than welcome to come and help,” I state, laughing. Kiln has loved helping me sculpt ever since the making of her very first piece: a plain, lop-sided pot. We have since created a ton of terracotta together, but that piece was the first one she actually sculpted. True, it was crude. But she made it all by herself, really, and that’s why I love it. It turned out to be an adorable little addition to our collection.

The thick springs in her hind legs compress to support Kiln as she trots to my side and settles in beside me, placing her front paws on the counter with apparent eagerness. “Smack it, like this.” I demonstrate by patting the mound of clay once more. Kiln, head titled while I speak, emits a pair of mechanical barks after receiving the command and then, simply, places a paw on the gray patty.

“Good girl!” I praise her, making her silver ears perk in glee.

It’s an odd thought, isn’t it? Giving praise to a machine. Or, was it even all that strange? She may have gears and plating where her living prototypes may have muscles and fur, but that means nothing when one looks past their physical forms. And despite her model being far more advanced than that of a typical dog, Kiln still behaves, learns, and reacts like an authentic puppy. Reinforcement was as necessary for her growth as for any other creature.

“Try it again, harder this time.” I instruct, watching her movements. This time, Kiln slaps the patty with enough force to leave a distinct, detailed paw print in the soft substance. The motion was awkward yet adorable at the same time.

“It’s perfect!” I grin, clapping my hands together. “Ready to make it into a piece of art?” Overjoyed, Kiln yips impatiently and lowers herself back to the floor to run around in a tight circle. “Alright, calm down, silly.” Of course she wanted to turn it into a sculpture. There was no point in asking. I kneel beside the mechanical canine and rest my hand on her side, applying enough force to release the latch of the kiln constructed within the kumos’ false ribcage. The metal plate concealing her inner compartment slides open and reveals a concave, oven-like section with a single iron shelf. This feature of hers is how the kumos received her name and consequential love for sculpting—not to mention glass blowing as well. But that’s an entirely different story.

The spirals of coils within her chest begin to glow red from the heat now-coursing through her wires, all the while her internal gears churn quietly, efficiently. I carefully place the ceramic paw print on the kiln’s shelving, minding the tangle of slowly-blazing cables spread throughout her, and slide shut the heat-resistant plate, securing its latch.

“It’s going to turn out so pretty,” I nod, placing my hands on my knees. The kumos’ curved tail thumps against the floor as she senses my excitement. Entwining my fingers in her collar, I bring her in close for a hug. “You’re so toasty warm.” I grin as Kiln nuzzles into my neck with a happy yowl, allowing me to lay my head on the dip of her spine. “You’re the best, Kiln.”

~.~.~
Humans seem to possess a natural connection with dogs, as the two species have adapted to each other since the beginning of their inevitable friendship. And it is no different for me. Kiln and I are inseparable. After all, she was made for me. Quite literally.

Profile by User not found: ambien

Story by Darkli