Chapter Text
After the Three-Day-Weekend War, Colonel Walter didn't take much time to recover from the journey back from Africa. Once everything had been delivered and unloaded by his strong robotic sons, Walter took enough time for a brief wedding and a few days in a small hotel by the sea... he didn't want Iris to remember her wedding as... well, what it was, a bandage for a mutual indiscretion. He, with a growing warmth for her that he had not foreseen but welcomed happily, wanted her to remember it as a happy occasion.
Once he and Iris returned, he took on the necessary repairs he had been unable to make on the boat, including a new and working lower jaw for Rabbit. If he was going to be working with music teachers, much less performing in public, he needed to be as human as possible.
Rabbit didn't see the point of a lower jaw, but anything Pappy said was an improvement was fine with him. He wanted to learn more songs; he had sung "The Little Lost Child" at every stop on the journey across the country, and had grown fond of applause.
Once his jaw was installed, Rabbit walked around for the next month clicking his "teeth" together noisily, sometimes in rhythm to his steps. It was becoming clear to Walter that in time, his sons probably would pick up the subtler aspects of music on their own. They were programmed with the understanding, after all. But it would be that much better if he could procure some training for them.
And he had a plan to get it... for a song. The joke made him chuckle, though it wasn't quite accurate. He always did enjoy a pun.
He was certain there must be many musicians of reasonable skill who could not make ends meet. And while his funds were the lowest they'd been in his life, he did own his home and property, and there was more than enough to keep on the reliable cook that had served the Walters since he was a boy. If he could find some local musicians who were willing to provide lessons in return for room and board, his problems just might be solved.
He spent the next month on the town. He started in the fanciest places he dared pay for, and worked his way down to the seediest. It was no surprise to him that when he found four musicians, they were all from one of the humblest of music halls.
"So you sayin' I get room an' board and I'm free to keep on doin' gigs, an all I gotta do is give yo' sons lessons?"
"Yes, sir. I'd be very grateful if you would consider my offer... I can well afford to provide you with the room and board but I have recently had some unexpected expenditures and my wife is expecting a... another child, so that is the extent of what I can promise you."
The elderly musician looked him up and down for a moment. Walter was especially hopeful of this one... he had heard him perform. His skill was what one would expect of a man of his years, and his voice was low and rich. One like this was worth a great deal. Walter had given both Rabbit and The Spine a vocal range that would go well with such training.
"I don' know, son. I don' really work with children..."
"They're not children, sir..."
"Bill. You tellin' me you got grown sons? You can't be much over 30..."
"It's a complicated situation. I hesitate to go into much detail..."
The man cleared his throat and chuckled. "You want my help, you gonna have to."
"Hey, Bill, we're all heading over to Jasper's. Someone paid him with a side of beef. He needs help eating it."
Bill chuckled again and coughed shortly. "Alright, Eddy. Well, Colonel, speak now or wait until tomorrow. I got a steak dinner waiting."
The tall young man who had spoken pulled up a chair. "You got an offer, Bill?"
"Hold up, Ed. I'm just working out the terms."
Colonel Walter cleared his throat. "Well... are you a musician, too?"
"Oh! Yes, sorry about my manners. We're fairly casual here. Eddy Reed." He offered his hand and Walter shook it cordially. "Yes, I play."
Bill snorted. "He plays! This boy has the voice of an angel and plays every instrument on the stand. He ain't gonna be down here long, Colonel. You better see if he wants in before he hits Broadway."
Eddy snorted and laughed. "That'll be the day! What's the offer, sir?"
"Well, it's as I told Bill here. I need musicians to teach my sons to play. Each has a marvelous... natural ability, a fine range and a basic understanding of music, but he lacks the subtlety to play well. That's what I need from you. I offer you a place to stay, food, and all the time outside of lessons is your to use as you see fit. You can continue to perform, you see, and maybe put a little money by instead of spending it on surviving. Would you be interested in this?"
"Well, that is tempting, sir. I have given lessons in the past. Whereabouts do you live?"
"Walter Manor, adjacent to City Park."
"Not too far to walk, I suppose... or hitch a ride. Maybe we can get Bernadette in on this. He's got a bicycle..."
"I could offer you use of the carriage... Did you say "he" has a bicycle?"
"Bernadette? Aw, come on, Eddy. She don' like to be around people..."
"He needs a break as much as anyone, and who has a greater vocal range?"
"She has a hard time with people, Ed."
Eddy flicked a glance awkwardly at Walter and hissed, "He's not a woman! It's just an act, Bill!"
"Yeah, and yet it isn't. But think what you want, man."
"I'm going to get him. Hang on, I don't think he's left yet." He trotted toward the exit.
"Clear out, Bill," called a man with a broom.
"Ten minutes, Albert?"
"Alright. Just that."
"So..." Bill said, swishing the remains of his drink. "You gonna tell me what's so complicated?"
"Maybe I'd better wait until you're all here..."
"Fair enough."
"Meanwhile, maybe you can tell me about this Bernadette..."
Bill laughed heartily. "Eddy don' believe me but... You see the act earlier, the man that sang like a lady?"
"Oh, of course. That would explain it. Yes, he was very convincing until he pulled off the wig!"
"That's because he is a she, Colonel. She don' want no one to know, but the real acting she does is off-stage. Don't spread it around, it's her bread and butter. But if you gonna be putting her up, you got a right to know. I don' want you puttin' her in with me!" He laughed again.
"We have enough rooms to avoid that. It makes no difference to me which she is, if she can help me. He said she has a good vocal range?"
"She should've been singin' opera, that one. Guess not everyone got the right friends. She makes good use of it, though. Take her on, if she's willing. She's had classical training."
"Well, that's fine! But I wasn't really thinking of anything too cosmopolitan... I want them to be able to play music that regular people enjoy. They seem to like that the best, and I am hoping they'll be able to perform for money and make a living for themselves."
"Well, shoot, they's no guarantee of that. But they got as much of a shot with what we play as they'd have with the fancy stuff."
Eddy hurried up with a slim man in a long coat and another man with fair hair. "Found him. And we have another taker, if you're interested, sir. This is Jimmy, and this is Bernadette."
The one introduced as Bernadette extended a hand. "How do you do?" The voice was deep, but now that he had been alerted to it, Walter thought he could hear a forced note to it.
"Hey," said the other, wiggling his fingers.
"So what do you play?" Walter asked them.
"I don't play anything," said Bernadette. "Well, I suppose I do play a little piano, but only what I need to practice my singing."
"I play piano and accordion, sir," said Jimmy. "And I sing and dance. Sometimes I do all at once."
"You play accordion and piano at the same time?" asked Bernadette, raising her carefully shaped eyebrows.
"Well, no, but the other three!" He jumped up and clicked his heels, landing gracefully and holding out his hand to her dramatically.
"Uh-huh. Well," she said, turning back to Walter, "We could all use a break like this. We're the lucky ones, we have work. But Jimmy here just got locked out of his flat for being late on his rent one time too many and my place has one privy on each floor. And Bill here just needs someone to look after him."
"And I'm interested, too, sir," said Eddy. "How old are your children?"
"Yes, Colonel. Now that we come to it, you were gonna explain?" Bill smiled pleasantly, but there was a touch of mischief in it.
Walter took a deep breath. It had been going so well! "Very well. My sons are not actually children. They are not, strictly speaking..." he took a deep breath, "human."
"Now wait just a moment..." began Bernadette.
"What are you pulling here, sir?" Eddy cut in. "What are they, parrots?"
Jimmy snorted. Bill just waited, eyebrows raised.
"I... have created a number of automatons... um... machines, in the shape of men. I have programmed them with musical ability but it seems that it isn't so simple to create a musician."
"I should think not!" cried Jimmy. "I think I'll see if Jasper will put me up..."
"Wait, Jimmy," said Eddy. "You're Colonel Peter Walter, aren't you?"
"Why, yes. You've heard of me?"
"You built Delilah the automaton giraffe! I had the honor of seeing her with my grandfather last year! It's a real treat to meet you, sir! Well, that settles it. I'd be honored to teach your automatons what I can!"
Bernadette looked at him, astonished. "Machines, Ed? You're going to teach machines to sing?"
"Yes!" he crowed, grinning from ear to ear.
Bill chuckled. "I'll come along an' see them tomorrow, Colonel. May I give you my answer after that? I don' want to give an answer until I've seen them."
"That's very good of you, sir," said Walter breathlessly. He was amazed that they hadn't turned him down outright.
Bernadette looked at Jimmy. "Well," she said. "I must admit I'm curious, and Jimmy here needs a place to stay, as I said. So I suppose we'll join Bill and at least meet them."
"Thank you!" cried Walter, getting up. "They want so much to learn! I know it's hard to understand it, but they really are sons to me. I'll see you tomorrow, whenever you see fit to arrive. Eddy, I'll have a room prepared for you."
"Thank you, Colonel. We'll all come there together. See you tomorrow."
Walter paced the entrance hall of Walter Manor half the morning before they arrived. Rabbit and The Jon were playing ball on the front lawn and he kept peering anxiously out at them. Jon was retrieving the ball from a ridiculous distance for the umpteenth time when the musicians came in by the gate. Before Walter could get out the door, the four of them had come face to face with Rabbit.
"Hiya, folks! Are you gonna teach us ta s-s-sing?"
"Look at you...." breathed Eddy as Walter walked up as casually as he could manage. The others were still staring in wonder.
"Rabbit, could you carry their bags?"
"Sure, Pappy!" Rabbit gathered a small suitcase from Eddy and a carpet bag from Jimmy. Bill pulled his guitar case closer and waved Rabbit away weakly.
"I carry my baby myself, metal man," coughed Bill.
"That's a baby?" cried Rabbit.
"It's just a figure of speech, Rabbit."
"Oh, like when you call Mama 'sweetheart'! 'Cause you never tasted her heart, did you, Pappy?"
The musicians chuckled.
"Um, right, Rabbit. Please take the bags to the rooms we prepared."
"Sure will, Pappy!" Rabbit jogged happily into the house as Jon returned with the ball.
"I got it, Rabbit! Hey, where ya goin?"
"Jon, meet Eddy. He's your new teacher. These are Bill, Bernadette, and Jimmy. They may be helping to teach you as well."
"Are ya gonna teach me to dance?" The Jon skipped about and clicked his heels lightly.
Jimmy smiled. "Would ya look at that."
"Maybe, Jon," said Walter.
"I wanna learn more dances, Pappy!" The Jon cried. "Dancin' is fun."
"How about we let them meet your brother and discuss it over lunch?"
The robots sipped water while the humans ate. Apparently, despite their steak dinner the night before, the musicians had hearty appetites.
"This is delicious, sir." Jimmy beamed and dug into thirds of potatoes and gravy. Walter smiled back; he suspected the food would be enough to bring this one on board.
Bernadette, however, pushed back her plate. Walter looked at Iris, who was watching the singer a little too closely; he'd felt it only right to tell her what Bill had told him and she was no doubt trying to decide for herself. He understood; the singer looked for all the world like a slim, graceful young man. But there was that delicacy in the face... of course, if Bill was wrong, it would make sense that an act such as that would star a young man of delicate features. He had decided not to have anyone share rooms, all the same, as a precaution.
"So," she(?) began, "Spine... you want to become a musician?"
"Yes, sir."
"We all do!" piped Rabbit.
"Yeah!" Jon crowed.
"I just make sandwiches. I know my place." Hatchworth smiled. Bernadette looked at him strangely and turned back to the others.
"Well, with your permission, Colonel, I'd like to hear what this 'natural' talent can do. I'm sure I'm not the only one. It may be that we don't agree with your assessment of their potential."
"Bernie, please..." hissed Jimmy.
"Not at all! That's only natural," said Walter smoothly, but inside he felt butterflies. What if she was right? It had taken so long to find just four people even willing to come out and teach human children, much less robots.
"If you're all finished eating?" he said, as calmly as he could manage.
"We are," she replied.
Jimmy shot Bernadette a sour look but pushed away from the table, snagging one last roll as he walked away. They all followed Walter into the conservatory, where they had placed a number of chairs and instruments.
"Here is where they practice," he said. For what that's worth... "What do you want to hear first?"
"Voices, I think. That's all I really can work with, so that's what I want to hear."
"I'd have to agree, Colonel," said Eddy. "We all sing."
"Alright. Rabbit?"
Rabbit eagerly stepped up and began The Song as the musicians sat. The Spine joined in, singing the exact same part, and The Jon whirled around them.
Walter fought the urge to cover his face. It was better than before they'd heard the old busker at the train station, but it was still so... well... mechanical! And so chaotic.
When the song ended, the musicians clapped politely. Rabbit giggled happily, and they all bowed like children at the end of a school play. Jimmy and Eddy beamed back, and even Bill was smiling. Bernadette, however, looked at them severely.
"Bernie?" Jimmy asked apprehensively as she rose and approached the robots.
"That was interesting. Now, one at a time, please. Jon! You didn't sing... are you not meant to be a singing robot?"
Jon gaped for a moment. "Yeah..."
"Then let's start with you." Rabbit looked rapidly between them, indignant, but at The Spine's urging remained silent.
"What should I do?" he asked timidly, looking at his Pappy, who nodded reassuringly.
"Sing, of course. The song your brothers sang."
"Um... alright. A policeman found a little child, whose fleece was white as snow..."
"Wait! Do you not know the song?"
"Well, yeah, but it's kinda silly so I thought I'd fix it!"
"No one asked you to fix it. I want to hear how you sing."
"That is how I sing!" Jon cried shrilly.
"Bernie," said Jimmy, jumping up to join them. "Can I try?"
"Have at it." She shook her head and returned to her seat.
"Sing what I sing," said Jimmy, smiling at Jon. "It's like a game."
"I like games!"
"I thought you would. Just sing this: Oh, Suzanna, don't you cry for me..."
The Jon copied him.
"I'll be back from Alabama with a banjo on my knee!"
The little robot sang it, and giggled.
"It rained all night, the day I left, the weather it was dry..."
He copied and giggled more.
"The sun so hot, I froze to death, Suzanna don't you cry!"
The Jon broke down in giggles halfway through the line. Jimmy clapped him on the shoulder and winced as his hand struck metal.
"Not bad, buddy! You have a nice voice!"
Bernadette sighed impatiently as Jimmy returned to his seat.
"They're kids, Bernie. They're what, a year old? Just babies."
"I ain't no baby!" snapped Rabbit, who had been pouting for some time.
"Of course not," said Eddy. "Can we hear you sing all by yourself, now? Then The Spine."
Rabbit began The Little Lost child again.
"No," interrupted Bernadette. "Sing a different song."
Rabbit hesitated and looked at Walter, who had had all he could do just holding himself together. "Pappy? What do I do?" he hissed.
"Don't you know any others?" asked Bernadette.
"Sure, I do..."
Walter knew the problem. The Spine had, with the sort of spite that sometimes occurs in siblings, seen fit to set Rabbit straight about a few things as they traveled home. Among other things, he had told him, rather bitterly, that they were terrible musicians except for the one song that they'd learned to mimic. Rabbit had been afraid to sing anything else since then.
"If you help him, possibly," Walter offered. "I can't carry a tune, I'm afraid... but just sing something for him to copy."
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised, but got up and walked back over the the robots. She sang a few words in a nonsense doggerel to warm up her voice.
"Alright. The three of you. Let's make this simple. Copy what I sing when I indicate it's your turn."
She started low and pointed to each of them in turn. Rabbit and The Spine came close to the note, but The Jon made no sound at all. She worked her way up through the scales and each robot tried to copy her. Jon's voice kicked in after the others, and stopped before them, as the notes grew higher. At last he stopped and watched his brothers as they sang into the soprano register, where Rabbit at last hit his limit. The Spine, however, copied Bernadette until the highest note.
She cleared her throat gently. "I could go higher, but you need your glassware intact," she said with undisguised pride. She looked at The Spine admiringly. Rabbit was looking at the floor and The Jon was staring at a housefly as it circled the room.
"Rabbit, you have excellent range," she said.
He looked up in surprise, then down again. "Not like The Spine's though..."
"The voice of an angel doesn't need to rise to Heaven to sing its praises."
Rabbit looked up again.
"Who said that?" asked Eddy, with a lopsided smile.
"I did, idiot. And The Spine... There are no words." He looked away shyly. Walter smiled. Even The Spine had his childlike moments.
"Jon..." she continued. "Well done." Jon grinned.
She sat.
The other musicians looked at her. Eddy chuckled and Jimmy shook his head.
"I think that's some kind of approval, sir. Bill?" said Eddy. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Well, shoot. Bernadette had it all covered. Yeah, they got the range for it, and sweet voices."
"But?"
"Well, lemmee see, now."
He picked up his guitar and strolled over to Rabbit.
"Oh, um, Bill... Rabbit isn't programmed for guitar," Walter said quickly. "You... really shouldn't."
"He breaks them," snickered The Spine.
Bill clutched the guitar to his chest hastily and looked at Walter, who nodded. Bill jabbed a thumb at The Spine and Walter nodded more vigorously. Rabbit's shoulders sagged in disappointment as The Spine accepted the guitar.
"Play something. Anything you know."
The Spine complied. It sounded, more or less, like The Little Lost Child. Rabbit brightened. Jimmy chuckled.
"Can I try?" asked The Jon, when he was done.
"Can he?" asked Bill.
Rabbit and The Spine shook their heads rapidly.
"Go ahead, Jon," said Walter. The Spine put his hand over his face and Rabbit began inching toward the door.
The Jon took the guitar and played a bouncy, meandering tune. Rabbit and The Spine began to bob from side to side to the rhythm.
"They dance, too?"
"I... don't know..." Walter said absently.
"Help me!" Rabbit cried.
"I feel so foolish..." muttered The Spine.
"Um, that's enough, Jon. Thank you."
"Aww..." The Jon returned the guitar and his brothers stopped dancing.
Walter smiled sheepishly. "Well? What do you think?"
Colonel Walter went to bed early that night. Down in the conservatory, music was still playing as Eddy tried to teach The Spine and The Jon to play guitar properly. Some of the musicians had left... not forever, but to fulfill commitments and bring back their things.
All four had signed on... at least for now.
He was exhausted. He settled back into the pillow and stared at the darkened ceiling and waited for sleep... but it wouldn't come. If Walter had thought he'd be free from worry, he was mistaken. He was just as worried... for different reasons.
He was considering getting up and going downstairs when his door creaked open. "Early night, Peter?" asked a soft voice.
"Iris? Yes, I'm sorry... I didn't want to bother you. I can't seem to sleep, however."
She shut the door and whispered, "I think I can help."
He smiled into the darkness as she slipped into his arms.