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Description
Can a mechanical heart still feel? A clockwork eye still see the world for itself?  Does a
motorized hand still sense the delicacy an inert beauty of the petals it crushes? Amarantha could not
answer these questions, such question which had grown to plague the lingering humanity which slowly
seeped from a civilizations body. Technology  had spread into the veins and nerves of society, entwining its intelligence into the organic flesh of humans, like a virus mutating into an intrinsic piece of life. Humans had created the cancerous mecha intent on a better quality of life, and that was what they received, the ability to create immortal bodies of bonded metal and flesh, copper nerves, silver optics, bronze skeletons, gold hearts, steel tendons, and iron flesh, all to gift those cursed without, into those blessed with.
Amarantha gazed out of  her window, the sun glinted off the buildings, large and spidery with intricate webs of metalwork which sustained perfect states of homeostasis within. People walked by, a diversity of gaits and appearances augmented by the clockwork which kept their bodies running. Spinning gears, whirring springs, steaming coils, and whining pistons, all worked in harmony to provide the missing pieces where humanity had failed, skimped, or withheld perfection, and created working limbs, organs and extremities. Amarantha moved fluidly out of her house into her mechanized world of metals and earth, and began her walk to the one area of solace she found left in a world where nature was losing its grip. She passed trees with copper plates and steel bolts, functional and unnatural. She coasted by delicately shaped razored flowers of aluminum and bronze, birds of steel gears and gossamer wings. Every aspect of the world seemed to be entranced by metalwork and laced with its sickly sweet corruption. Cold beauty was overtaking warm imperfections, and slowly as is was overwhelmed, humanity had seemed less alive, more reflexive, it was slowly diminishing into automated preprogrammed actions and motives. It all Made her wonder, not for the first, or last time, could a metal heart still love?
Amarantha didn't know, and it seemed neither did the rest of humanity as it slipped into the comforting embrace of metal functionality and intelligence. She was passing through the market sector now, as vendors hawked their wares with mecha enhanced voice boxes modeled from speaker systems, and buyers viewed wares with clockwork optics, specifically crafted to scrutinize and magnify far beyond what the human eye could ever hope to accomplish. Glittering products of artistically functioning metal limbs and pieces dazzled in the warm sun, a last piece of enduring ingenuity, untainted by humanity, and the symbol of the spark of passion life. Artificially engineered groceries, overly fashioned decadence littered the marketplace, an item for every aspect of life overly self-indulgent and unnecessary was available for the right price. The bazaar ran like clockwork, every person playing their part, every commodity functioning as it should.
She  passed by a new little stand and paused, it held a luxury of her childhood, yet was beautifully altered into a mixture of glittering wires and panels of metal. Hot coils heated the air keeping the thin plastic casing inflated and metal weight elevated. They floated gaily like miniature zeppelins with spinning gears and rotating fans, painted bright with rainbows of color, a cheery reminder of lovely innocence. Enticed by the airy delight, Amarantha pulled the clinking coins from her green dress's pocket, and passed them over to the aged vendor who's shoulder gleamed silver. His hands were surprisingly wrinkled, and his eyes peered out a sharp blue from under his snowy hair. His caducity was a startling oddity in the city, any as any hint of age perceived was immediately erased and replaced with shining machinery. However, the age seemed to suit the man, giving him a gentle air of contentment and satisfaction with the world.
As Amarantha walked away, her precious cargo floating along behind her, the vendor called out in a surprisingly strong voice, rich and aged like the trees of the past, "I hope they lead to a lightness of heart and joy, have a nice day." Amarantha paused slightly before calling back her thanks, surprised at the odd wording. Continuing on, she boarded the railway and sped away toward the coast. As the train sped through the metal world her mood returned to its morose musings about the ramifications of the clockwork that powered humans. Amarantha herself was not untouched by metal, her forearms, hands, and both legs from the knee down were complex mazes of gears and mechanics. The metalwork was the consequence of the debilitating condition she had been born with. Her condition weakened her bones severely, and was a fault in the mecha world of perfection.
Falling back into memories of the past, she recalled the apple tree behind her house from her childhood. Its leaves were a lush green she reminisced, its bark beautifully rough and brown. Untouched by any artificialness, it had produced the most beautiful apples, sweet and succulent. She had never been allowed near the tree however, as her parents feared anything conceivably dangerous, and an apple tree that perfect just pleaded to be climbed. Their fears were realized when one day when they were out late, she had been looking out her window, and saw a beautiful ruby apple, close to the top of the tree. With the enthusiasm of a child she had determined she needed the apple, as a powerful thirst and craving for the sweet delicacy overcame her. Her debility made her bones weak, and her parents shelter had deteriorated her muscles further, but her determination pushed her up towards the sky and within reach of the prize. Her body had shaken as she reached  hand outstretched for her goal she remembered. Hand trembling, and muscles strained, her body had failed, and she fell, crashing towards the earth in an otherworldly descent.
When she had awoken, her flesh legs were gone, and in their place, two beautiful mecha legs made of fused steel and bronze had replaced them. Later, when she was eight, she lost her forearm and hand to a riding accident with a horse ride she had begged of her parents. When she was ten she lost the other forearm and hand to her illness, which had weakened her bones beyond repair. The extent of the damage was realized during the operation, and three years later, the extensive operations were completed, and her remaining skeleton was fused and replaced with various metals.
She gazed at her hands now, her face was blank, but her thoughts were racing. What was the price for these metal miracles she wondered. Her hands could feel as well as any she supposed, but the sensations they perceived seemed more calculated. They lost a sense of artistry, of human passion, yet without them, she might be dead, or disadvantaged cripple.
At eighteen Amarantha had lived with this mecha for five years. Two years prior she had fled her parents overbearing shadows, and begun to live in the light, only to be assailed by a freedom and a understanding of the world she had yet to fully grasp.
The train arrived at her stop and jarred her from her contemplations. As she exited onto the platform, her thoughts still buzzed. Amarantha climbed down the steep grassy embankment, and followed the rocky overgrown path that meandered down towards the horizon. The steady patterned fall of her steps lulled her back into her deliberations. Metal was slowly consuming the earth, it had made aging painless, and extended the human life, but she wondered at what point the lives that were extended so stopped being human. She saw men walking through the towns, mechanized completely, and had to wonder how much of themselves remained. They seemed emotionless, and carried out their business without any evident sentiment. Though they still gave the impression of retaining a shred of presence of mind, they lacked the aura of self.
Were they human anymore? Or had their humanity been swallowed by the metal. She tried to recall ever seeing the mechanized men changing their expressions, and found herself unable to do so. Following this train of thought, the balloon man popped into her head. His smile had been warm and open to her, an invitation to happiness and emotion. It was a smile she could barely remember seeing in all of her eighteen years. The people of her town were blank slates to her, rarely impassioned with the feelings of humanity.
Amarantha's feet followed the path beneath her as the scenery transitioned into the last landscape of untouched naturality. Small grains of sand overtook the compacted earth, and morphed into the soft piles which azure water would lap up to in frothy waves, as salty as the tears humans used to be able to cry. The path led her to a worn dock, which jutted into the water. Its old wooden beams creaked under her weight, and the cool wind whipped her long black hair across her pale face. The balloons grasped in her silver hand blew to and fro, pushed by the wind, and soothed by the spray of the crashing water. Amarantha sat down, huddled at the end of the dock, gazing down into the water. The reflection staring back at her looked human, but her limbs seemed to set unnatural against her skin. She smiled then, a slight quirk of the lips, did she deserve the title of human anymore? Soon she would be more machine than woman, and eventually it would be all she was. What made a human a human? She didn't believe it was the body, in her mind, it was the heart. The heart was the center of emotions, and so long as some of the heart remained, so long as the capacity to love and feel was preserved, she believed humanity could survive within, dulled, but alive.
Without her heart would she lose herself? Her sense of touch was already dulled to precision, and now was she to lose all of her emotions as well?  She buried her head in her arms, the salt water spraying across her body. People no longer ventured to the ocean for fear of the water rusting their artificial bodies, which left the vast ocean a sort of sanctuary to her heart and mind. More surprising than the people avoiding the seas, was the system of mechanical intelligence, which ran underground in vast networks and pushed upwards, infecting nature and plants, had also avoided the sea.
  She wanted to cry, frustration was bubbling up in an agitated mix of uncertainty. She didn't want this, she never had, but nature had failed her, and left her to chose between her humanity or life. She felt shallow and empty. Lost in her own sea of unfeeling and vacancy. Amarantha moved her free hand down, and clutched at her dress over where her heart lay, faithfully pumping. Why did this have to happen to her she questioned. The illness which sapped the strength from her bones had moved on and resurfaced, weakening her heart, and soon it would destroy it.
The wind whipped her balloons around in a sudden violent gust, which caused her skin to raise and a shiver to traverse her titanium spine. She raised her eyes then, her face a bleary mess of desperation and confusion, and gazed across the water. Slowly she turned her head away from the spray and down the length of the beach. A shadowed figure approached, making her frail heart clench, and her body tremble once more, from cold or emotion she knew not. His gait was relaxed like always, his smooth flesh unmarred by any metal pistons gears or plates. His hair seemed alight in the dim sun, it danced gaily a mess of blood red layers standing in contrast to his pale skin. She envied him, he was healthy, his skin untouched by metal or sickness, a contrast to her almost translucent skin, a sickly reflection of  her frail organs.
He wore black jeans and a grey shirt which displayed his obvious well being and muscle tone, an impossibility for her body. His relaxed gait steered his long legs towards her, silently advancing to her side. She turned back to the waters and the wind then, listening as he sat down beside her, warm and alive.
An empty sigh escaped her lips and she crumpled against him in a show of familiarity. Her hand unintentionally loosened around the balloons, and his arm snaked around her, catching her against his side while his other shot out, closing her grip back around all but one of the strings of the bright objects. The one balloon that escaped, coasted up and away across the water, and Amarantha's eyes emptily followed its ascent. They sat in silence for a while, his prescence quietly  soothing her as he warmed her chilled body in his loose embrace.
Finally breaking the silence, Amarantha broke the light tension, broaching the subject of worry.
"I'm afraid I'll lose myself. Without a heart…I…I won't be human…I wont be able to love." He shushed her gently, well versed in her ways of worry.
"If you lose yourself, I'll bring you back….Amarantha, I know your afraid, but, you will die if you don't do the operation." his voice reverberated through her, a low whisper of truth she didn't want to face, and an anger flared up against him.
"Its easy for you to say that, your still human, you don't need any metal to survive!" she spat bitterly, trying to pull her body from his. He kept her close, unheeding to her attempts until she gave up. "You forget, I'm not perfect, I use mecha just like everyone else." Unconsciously Amarantha glanced up at his eyes, one green, natural and deep, the other a gray blue metal optics device
"And don't say that this is easy for me, you're my friend, and I hate watching you beat yourself up over not dying, I hate that I can't do anything to fix this, I hate I cant help the one I love. And mostly, I loathe that you push me away." Instinctively he held her closer, as though she would suddenly dissapear from his arms.
"Niklaus…" she paused, "why do you stay? Even with my heart human I can't, I can't love you." Whispering out the last part she looked away in shame. The nineteen year old beside her had held her precious since they had met, and he had grown to love her from their rough beginnings, despite her quirks, and difficult past. Yet even so she could not find it in her to let heart to love him, to give her self to him. He was her friend, handsome and alluring, yet she kept her heart cold towards him, even as he protected her. Her fear of being abandoned, or worse contained, trapped in a cage she freely gave herself to, frightened her, chilled her blood, and brought back memories of the caged prison her parents had kept her within. She hated her fears and insecurities. She knew he deserved more than her cold rejections, he deserved a warm girl, not a half mechanized girl too afraid and too full of personal aversions to be able to freely love.
She recalled when he had professed his feelings, he had done so knowing the result, but had still remained by her side, accepting her faults and inabilities.
"I stay because you need me" his soothing voice stated simply. The truth of the statement rang clear. Niklaus recognized her faults, but in his mind Amarantha was strong and intelligent. She had maintained the an endearing amount of vulnerability and naivety, scared of losing herself to the world or any person. Almost deathly afraid of the bonds of devotion which had been used to trap her within a smothering suffocating prison of safety before. And it was because of these fears, Niklaus knew that what she needed was a person who understood her, and stayed by her side without suppressing her, and for as long as he was able, he had decided to be that protector she needed.
Amarantha buried her face in his shirt, blocking out the world for a short time, blanking her mind of the debate, and not for the first time, wished she allow herself to love Niklaus.
They watched the sunset and in the fading light, let the balloons be lifted away on the wings of the wind. Cascading upwards, the plastic reflected the bright and warm light of the sinking sun, even in the cold. The faded red sun was a forever sign of humanity in her mind, an eternal symbol which rose and set in a forever rotation of reassurance, just like clockwork.

Amarantha awoke the morning of her surgery, the operation which so many gone through, yet none seemed to question as deeply as her. As she lay in the barren hospital bed, her harshly white room windowless and devoid of life, she contemplated the device that was to be inserted into her body. It was a fine piece of machinery she supposed, it gleamed with gears and pistons, bolts and pipes, artificial and durable. The hospital gown rubbed coarse against her body, and the air chilled her through it. Niklaus had stopped by earlier to lend his support to her, and without him in her small room she felt unbearably trapped and alone. A strange thing had happened as he had entered, it was a sensation she had felt before, but had never allowed to be recognized. It warmed her body, making it feel lighter, and airy, but as he had left, it was like a sudden weight had dropped on her chest, crushing her. Looking down at her hands, she noted how they shook. It was strange, her metal hands shouldn't shake, they were intrinsically unable to assume any imperfections. Before she could dedicate another session of over thinking to analyzing the strange occurrence, two unsympathetic nurses came in, and injected her body with specialized medications, warning that side effects could include hallucinations. They exited and returned a short time later, almost on cue as her body started to slowly loose feeling. Gathering her up on the rolling bed to be escorted to the operation room, they blandly seemed to take note of  her apprehensive expression, which induced the customary reassurances, resounding synthetic and bitter tasting to her senses.

The nurses pulled her bed down the hall and left her outside the prep room as the finishing arrangements were made within. Her body seemed tingly all over, and the world seemed warm and flowing to her drugged state. Gazing around Amarantha took note of the window beside her and stared out at the sky outside. As the scenery swam before her eyes, slowly registering, all warmth seemed to leave her body, turning it cold with fright.
The warm natural sun from the day before, her self imposed symbol of everlasting humanity, was bright and blinding with gears. It's cold light was a mechanized mass of electronic synthetic pistons and burning pieces. She blinked in alarm, as her vision swam once more, she couldn't seem to breathe, her body was frozen in shock and numb from the medication, and as she tried to discern the frightening reality of the sky outside the window, the cold nurses pulled her away from the false sun, and into the room where they would be removing her heart.
The nurses grabbed equipment, prepping her with needles and monitors. Her eyes danced wildly and blindly with panic, grief gripping her frail heart, and desperation clawing her insides to shreds. In her dulled mind the possibility of the sun being destroyed and replaced frightened her beyond what she thought possible. To her it was as though it was the end of humanity. Tears began unknowingly leaking from her burning eyes, as an unnamable fear coursed through her. Seemingly indifferent, a nurse secured the oxygen mask and turned on the anesthesia. The last thoughts that consumed her mind before it was swallowed in blackness were full of fear, hate, and regret for both the past and future, "I'm losing my heart as I finally find the strength to feel, I'm losing my heart before I could truly even give it away. I think HE always had it, I just never could tell him, I'm so weak, and now, he'll never know." she laughed bitterly to herself, "A heart of clockwork, clocks cant feel." bitter grief and regret filled her weak heart as the anesthetic filled her lungs once more, sending her into a deep un-waking sleep. The operation ran perfectly, just like clockwork.
Amarantha had cared for Niklaus in the only way she really knew how, and as time passed, began to love him, but could  never let herself be his, and now, when she in her drug induced state, had finally had the stregnth to accept him, and her, it was all too late.
Niklaus walked away from the hospital, he would pick Amarantha up tomorrow, and care for her during her recovery. His commitment was not one sided, he had to reassure himself, yet he had done so so often it had lost authenticity. He reminded himself of how when all had abandoned him in his life for his faults and sins, she had remained by his side when he needed her, and so he reasoned, he would do the same. She might eventually grow to love him and overcome her own fears, he repeated to himself, but once again the assurance felt lacking.
Doubts plagued his mind like flies around a corpse, 'she would never love him', 'he would forever be unrequited', 'Forever trailing after her like a phantom until faced with constant rejections his affections would morph into an ugly black shadow of negativity, warped by his dejections'. And now that her heart was being taken, he feared with certainty, that now no matter what happened, she could never love him, any chance was gone. She had never cared and never would, not the way he did. He had seen the people with automated hearts, they never smiled frowned, laughed or loved.
Amarantha would be dead to emotion, a shallow mechanized shell of her former passionate fascinating self, multifaceted and deep. Even so, he would stay by her side he knew, as he always would, with the senseless hope she may return to herself, with the impossible hope she would care for him, he would remain when all else had left her. Even if he grew to abhor her, he knew he would stay with her, as she once had for him. And when illness or age stole away his body, he would replace it, piece by piece, until he too, just like her, would lose the ability to feel. And then without humanity, he would still remain, and follow after her, faithful for always. Even if she never cared, he would stay faithful and endure time as he promised, he would take care of her as he vowed, he alone would remain true and dependable. And together they would traverse time, automated and mechanical, following and leading in a neverending march through the mechanized world. He would rise as she rose, he would follow as she led, he would be her eternal company, forever by her side, it would all run in the automated world, just like clockwork.

Description
Can a mechanical heart still feel? A clockwork eye still see the world for itself?  Does a
motorized hand still sense the delicacy an inert beauty of the petals it crushes? Amarantha could not
answer these questions, such question which had grown to plague the lingering humanity which slowly
seeped from a civilizations body. Technology  had spread into the veins and nerves of society, entwining its intelligence into the organic flesh of humans, like a virus mutating into an intrinsic piece of life. Humans had created the cancerous mecha intent on a better quality of life, and that was what they received, the ability to create immortal bodies of bonded metal and flesh, copper nerves, silver optics, bronze skeletons, gold hearts, steel tendons, and iron flesh, all to gift those cursed without, into those blessed with.
Amarantha gazed out of  her window, the sun glinted off the buildings, large and spidery with intricate webs of metalwork which sustained perfect states of homeostasis within. People walked by, a diversity of gaits and appearances augmented by the clockwork which kept their bodies running. Spinning gears, whirring springs, steaming coils, and whining pistons, all worked in harmony to provide the missing pieces where humanity had failed, skimped, or withheld perfection, and created working limbs, organs and extremities. Amarantha moved fluidly out of her house into her mechanized world of metals and earth, and began her walk to the one area of solace she found left in a world where nature was losing its grip. She passed trees with copper plates and steel bolts, functional and unnatural. She coasted by delicately shaped razored flowers of aluminum and bronze, birds of steel gears and gossamer wings. Every aspect of the world seemed to be entranced by metalwork and laced with its sickly sweet corruption. Cold beauty was overtaking warm imperfections, and slowly as is was overwhelmed, humanity had seemed less alive, more reflexive, it was slowly diminishing into automated preprogrammed actions and motives. It all Made her wonder, not for the first, or last time, could a metal heart still love?
Amarantha didn't know, and it seemed neither did the rest of humanity as it slipped into the comforting embrace of metal functionality and intelligence. She was passing through the market sector now, as vendors hawked their wares with mecha enhanced voice boxes modeled from speaker systems, and buyers viewed wares with clockwork optics, specifically crafted to scrutinize and magnify far beyond what the human eye could ever hope to accomplish. Glittering products of artistically functioning metal limbs and pieces dazzled in the warm sun, a last piece of enduring ingenuity, untainted by humanity, and the symbol of the spark of passion life. Artificially engineered groceries, overly fashioned decadence littered the marketplace, an item for every aspect of life overly self-indulgent and unnecessary was available for the right price. The bazaar ran like clockwork, every person playing their part, every commodity functioning as it should.
She  passed by a new little stand and paused, it held a luxury of her childhood, yet was beautifully altered into a mixture of glittering wires and panels of metal. Hot coils heated the air keeping the thin plastic casing inflated and metal weight elevated. They floated gaily like miniature zeppelins with spinning gears and rotating fans, painted bright with rainbows of color, a cheery reminder of lovely innocence. Enticed by the airy delight, Amarantha pulled the clinking coins from her green dress's pocket, and passed them over to the aged vendor who's shoulder gleamed silver. His hands were surprisingly wrinkled, and his eyes peered out a sharp blue from under his snowy hair. His caducity was a startling oddity in the city, any as any hint of age perceived was immediately erased and replaced with shining machinery. However, the age seemed to suit the man, giving him a gentle air of contentment and satisfaction with the world.
As Amarantha walked away, her precious cargo floating along behind her, the vendor called out in a surprisingly strong voice, rich and aged like the trees of the past, "I hope they lead to a lightness of heart and joy, have a nice day." Amarantha paused slightly before calling back her thanks, surprised at the odd wording. Continuing on, she boarded the railway and sped away toward the coast. As the train sped through the metal world her mood returned to its morose musings about the ramifications of the clockwork that powered humans. Amarantha herself was not untouched by metal, her forearms, hands, and both legs from the knee down were complex mazes of gears and mechanics. The metalwork was the consequence of the debilitating condition she had been born with. Her condition weakened her bones severely, and was a fault in the mecha world of perfection.
Falling back into memories of the past, she recalled the apple tree behind her house from her childhood. Its leaves were a lush green she reminisced, its bark beautifully rough and brown. Untouched by any artificialness, it had produced the most beautiful apples, sweet and succulent. She had never been allowed near the tree however, as her parents feared anything conceivably dangerous, and an apple tree that perfect just pleaded to be climbed. Their fears were realized when one day when they were out late, she had been looking out her window, and saw a beautiful ruby apple, close to the top of the tree. With the enthusiasm of a child she had determined she needed the apple, as a powerful thirst and craving for the sweet delicacy overcame her. Her debility made her bones weak, and her parents shelter had deteriorated her muscles further, but her determination pushed her up towards the sky and within reach of the prize. Her body had shaken as she reached  hand outstretched for her goal she remembered. Hand trembling, and muscles strained, her body had failed, and she fell, crashing towards the earth in an otherworldly descent.
When she had awoken, her flesh legs were gone, and in their place, two beautiful mecha legs made of fused steel and bronze had replaced them. Later, when she was eight, she lost her forearm and hand to a riding accident with a horse ride she had begged of her parents. When she was ten she lost the other forearm and hand to her illness, which had weakened her bones beyond repair. The extent of the damage was realized during the operation, and three years later, the extensive operations were completed, and her remaining skeleton was fused and replaced with various metals.
She gazed at her hands now, her face was blank, but her thoughts were racing. What was the price for these metal miracles she wondered. Her hands could feel as well as any she supposed, but the sensations they perceived seemed more calculated. They lost a sense of artistry, of human passion, yet without them, she might be dead, or disadvantaged cripple.
At eighteen Amarantha had lived with this mecha for five years. Two years prior she had fled her parents overbearing shadows, and begun to live in the light, only to be assailed by a freedom and a understanding of the world she had yet to fully grasp.
The train arrived at her stop and jarred her from her contemplations. As she exited onto the platform, her thoughts still buzzed. Amarantha climbed down the steep grassy embankment, and followed the rocky overgrown path that meandered down towards the horizon. The steady patterned fall of her steps lulled her back into her deliberations. Metal was slowly consuming the earth, it had made aging painless, and extended the human life, but she wondered at what point the lives that were extended so stopped being human. She saw men walking through the towns, mechanized completely, and had to wonder how much of themselves remained. They seemed emotionless, and carried out their business without any evident sentiment. Though they still gave the impression of retaining a shred of presence of mind, they lacked the aura of self.
Were they human anymore? Or had their humanity been swallowed by the metal. She tried to recall ever seeing the mechanized men changing their expressions, and found herself unable to do so. Following this train of thought, the balloon man popped into her head. His smile had been warm and open to her, an invitation to happiness and emotion. It was a smile she could barely remember seeing in all of her eighteen years. The people of her town were blank slates to her, rarely impassioned with the feelings of humanity.
Amarantha's feet followed the path beneath her as the scenery transitioned into the last landscape of untouched naturality. Small grains of sand overtook the compacted earth, and morphed into the soft piles which azure water would lap up to in frothy waves, as salty as the tears humans used to be able to cry. The path led her to a worn dock, which jutted into the water. Its old wooden beams creaked under her weight, and the cool wind whipped her long black hair across her pale face. The balloons grasped in her silver hand blew to and fro, pushed by the wind, and soothed by the spray of the crashing water. Amarantha sat down, huddled at the end of the dock, gazing down into the water. The reflection staring back at her looked human, but her limbs seemed to set unnatural against her skin. She smiled then, a slight quirk of the lips, did she deserve the title of human anymore? Soon she would be more machine than woman, and eventually it would be all she was. What made a human a human? She didn't believe it was the body, in her mind, it was the heart. The heart was the center of emotions, and so long as some of the heart remained, so long as the capacity to love and feel was preserved, she believed humanity could survive within, dulled, but alive.
Without her heart would she lose herself? Her sense of touch was already dulled to precision, and now was she to lose all of her emotions as well?  She buried her head in her arms, the salt water spraying across her body. People no longer ventured to the ocean for fear of the water rusting their artificial bodies, which left the vast ocean a sort of sanctuary to her heart and mind. More surprising than the people avoiding the seas, was the system of mechanical intelligence, which ran underground in vast networks and pushed upwards, infecting nature and plants, had also avoided the sea.
  She wanted to cry, frustration was bubbling up in an agitated mix of uncertainty. She didn't want this, she never had, but nature had failed her, and left her to chose between her humanity or life. She felt shallow and empty. Lost in her own sea of unfeeling and vacancy. Amarantha moved her free hand down, and clutched at her dress over where her heart lay, faithfully pumping. Why did this have to happen to her she questioned. The illness which sapped the strength from her bones had moved on and resurfaced, weakening her heart, and soon it would destroy it.
The wind whipped her balloons around in a sudden violent gust, which caused her skin to raise and a shiver to traverse her titanium spine. She raised her eyes then, her face a bleary mess of desperation and confusion, and gazed across the water. Slowly she turned her head away from the spray and down the length of the beach. A shadowed figure approached, making her frail heart clench, and her body tremble once more, from cold or emotion she knew not. His gait was relaxed like always, his smooth flesh unmarred by any metal pistons gears or plates. His hair seemed alight in the dim sun, it danced gaily a mess of blood red layers standing in contrast to his pale skin. She envied him, he was healthy, his skin untouched by metal or sickness, a contrast to her almost translucent skin, a sickly reflection of  her frail organs.
He wore black jeans and a grey shirt which displayed his obvious well being and muscle tone, an impossibility for her body. His relaxed gait steered his long legs towards her, silently advancing to her side. She turned back to the waters and the wind then, listening as he sat down beside her, warm and alive.
An empty sigh escaped her lips and she crumpled against him in a show of familiarity. Her hand unintentionally loosened around the balloons, and his arm snaked around her, catching her against his side while his other shot out, closing her grip back around all but one of the strings of the bright objects. The one balloon that escaped, coasted up and away across the water, and Amarantha's eyes emptily followed its ascent. They sat in silence for a while, his prescence quietly  soothing her as he warmed her chilled body in his loose embrace.
Finally breaking the silence, Amarantha broke the light tension, broaching the subject of worry.
"I'm afraid I'll lose myself. Without a heart…I…I won't be human…I wont be able to love." He shushed her gently, well versed in her ways of worry.
"If you lose yourself, I'll bring you back….Amarantha, I know your afraid, but, you will die if you don't do the operation." his voice reverberated through her, a low whisper of truth she didn't want to face, and an anger flared up against him.
"Its easy for you to say that, your still human, you don't need any metal to survive!" she spat bitterly, trying to pull her body from his. He kept her close, unheeding to her attempts until she gave up. "You forget, I'm not perfect, I use mecha just like everyone else." Unconsciously Amarantha glanced up at his eyes, one green, natural and deep, the other a gray blue metal optics device
"And don't say that this is easy for me, you're my friend, and I hate watching you beat yourself up over not dying, I hate that I can't do anything to fix this, I hate I cant help the one I love. And mostly, I loathe that you push me away." Instinctively he held her closer, as though she would suddenly dissapear from his arms.
"Niklaus…" she paused, "why do you stay? Even with my heart human I can't, I can't love you." Whispering out the last part she looked away in shame. The nineteen year old beside her had held her precious since they had met, and he had grown to love her from their rough beginnings, despite her quirks, and difficult past. Yet even so she could not find it in her to let heart to love him, to give her self to him. He was her friend, handsome and alluring, yet she kept her heart cold towards him, even as he protected her. Her fear of being abandoned, or worse contained, trapped in a cage she freely gave herself to, frightened her, chilled her blood, and brought back memories of the caged prison her parents had kept her within. She hated her fears and insecurities. She knew he deserved more than her cold rejections, he deserved a warm girl, not a half mechanized girl too afraid and too full of personal aversions to be able to freely love.
She recalled when he had professed his feelings, he had done so knowing the result, but had still remained by her side, accepting her faults and inabilities.
"I stay because you need me" his soothing voice stated simply. The truth of the statement rang clear. Niklaus recognized her faults, but in his mind Amarantha was strong and intelligent. She had maintained the an endearing amount of vulnerability and naivety, scared of losing herself to the world or any person. Almost deathly afraid of the bonds of devotion which had been used to trap her within a smothering suffocating prison of safety before. And it was because of these fears, Niklaus knew that what she needed was a person who understood her, and stayed by her side without suppressing her, and for as long as he was able, he had decided to be that protector she needed.
Amarantha buried her face in his shirt, blocking out the world for a short time, blanking her mind of the debate, and not for the first time, wished she allow herself to love Niklaus.
They watched the sunset and in the fading light, let the balloons be lifted away on the wings of the wind. Cascading upwards, the plastic reflected the bright and warm light of the sinking sun, even in the cold. The faded red sun was a forever sign of humanity in her mind, an eternal symbol which rose and set in a forever rotation of reassurance, just like clockwork.

Amarantha awoke the morning of her surgery, the operation which so many gone through, yet none seemed to question as deeply as her. As she lay in the barren hospital bed, her harshly white room windowless and devoid of life, she contemplated the device that was to be inserted into her body. It was a fine piece of machinery she supposed, it gleamed with gears and pistons, bolts and pipes, artificial and durable. The hospital gown rubbed coarse against her body, and the air chilled her through it. Niklaus had stopped by earlier to lend his support to her, and without him in her small room she felt unbearably trapped and alone. A strange thing had happened as he had entered, it was a sensation she had felt before, but had never allowed to be recognized. It warmed her body, making it feel lighter, and airy, but as he had left, it was like a sudden weight had dropped on her chest, crushing her. Looking down at her hands, she noted how they shook. It was strange, her metal hands shouldn't shake, they were intrinsically unable to assume any imperfections. Before she could dedicate another session of over thinking to analyzing the strange occurrence, two unsympathetic nurses came in, and injected her body with specialized medications, warning that side effects could include hallucinations. They exited and returned a short time later, almost on cue as her body started to slowly loose feeling. Gathering her up on the rolling bed to be escorted to the operation room, they blandly seemed to take note of  her apprehensive expression, which induced the customary reassurances, resounding synthetic and bitter tasting to her senses.

The nurses pulled her bed down the hall and left her outside the prep room as the finishing arrangements were made within. Her body seemed tingly all over, and the world seemed warm and flowing to her drugged state. Gazing around Amarantha took note of the window beside her and stared out at the sky outside. As the scenery swam before her eyes, slowly registering, all warmth seemed to leave her body, turning it cold with fright.
The warm natural sun from the day before, her self imposed symbol of everlasting humanity, was bright and blinding with gears. It's cold light was a mechanized mass of electronic synthetic pistons and burning pieces. She blinked in alarm, as her vision swam once more, she couldn't seem to breathe, her body was frozen in shock and numb from the medication, and as she tried to discern the frightening reality of the sky outside the window, the cold nurses pulled her away from the false sun, and into the room where they would be removing her heart.
The nurses grabbed equipment, prepping her with needles and monitors. Her eyes danced wildly and blindly with panic, grief gripping her frail heart, and desperation clawing her insides to shreds. In her dulled mind the possibility of the sun being destroyed and replaced frightened her beyond what she thought possible. To her it was as though it was the end of humanity. Tears began unknowingly leaking from her burning eyes, as an unnamable fear coursed through her. Seemingly indifferent, a nurse secured the oxygen mask and turned on the anesthesia. The last thoughts that consumed her mind before it was swallowed in blackness were full of fear, hate, and regret for both the past and future, "I'm losing my heart as I finally find the strength to feel, I'm losing my heart before I could truly even give it away. I think HE always had it, I just never could tell him, I'm so weak, and now, he'll never know." she laughed bitterly to herself, "A heart of clockwork, clocks cant feel." bitter grief and regret filled her weak heart as the anesthetic filled her lungs once more, sending her into a deep un-waking sleep. The operation ran perfectly, just like clockwork.
Amarantha had cared for Niklaus in the only way she really knew how, and as time passed, began to love him, but could  never let herself be his, and now, when she in her drug induced state, had finally had the stregnth to accept him, and her, it was all too late.
Niklaus walked away from the hospital, he would pick Amarantha up tomorrow, and care for her during her recovery. His commitment was not one sided, he had to reassure himself, yet he had done so so often it had lost authenticity. He reminded himself of how when all had abandoned him in his life for his faults and sins, she had remained by his side when he needed her, and so he reasoned, he would do the same. She might eventually grow to love him and overcome her own fears, he repeated to himself, but once again the assurance felt lacking.
Doubts plagued his mind like flies around a corpse, 'she would never love him', 'he would forever be unrequited', 'Forever trailing after her like a phantom until faced with constant rejections his affections would morph into an ugly black shadow of negativity, warped by his dejections'. And now that her heart was being taken, he feared with certainty, that now no matter what happened, she could never love him, any chance was gone. She had never cared and never would, not the way he did. He had seen the people with automated hearts, they never smiled frowned, laughed or loved.
Amarantha would be dead to emotion, a shallow mechanized shell of her former passionate fascinating self, multifaceted and deep. Even so, he would stay by her side he knew, as he always would, with the senseless hope she may return to herself, with the impossible hope she would care for him, he would remain when all else had left her. Even if he grew to abhor her, he knew he would stay with her, as she once had for him. And when illness or age stole away his body, he would replace it, piece by piece, until he too, just like her, would lose the ability to feel. And then without humanity, he would still remain, and follow after her, faithful for always. Even if she never cared, he would stay faithful and endure time as he promised, he would take care of her as he vowed, he alone would remain true and dependable. And together they would traverse time, automated and mechanical, following and leading in a neverending march through the mechanized world. He would rise as she rose, he would follow as she led, he would be her eternal company, forever by her side, it would all run in the automated world, just like clockwork.