Professor Cordelia had three robot hearts left in her workshop.

 

Her house was a thing of legend, all wood in pink and yellow and green. Samuel Doolittle, father and banker, had weathered traffic and relentless messages from his wife on his way to get there. When he finally arrived, less than five minutes before closing time, he was out of breath and frantic.

 

“Thank you for waiting, Professor. I know I don’t deserve your patience.”

 

“Don’t spend a thought on it,” she said, and ushered him into her waiting room.

 

“I’m sure my wife updated you,” said Samuel. “Our little girls — triplets — have a birthday coming up and we found the perfect new robots for them. We’re upgrading them since they’re ‘big kids’ now, you get the idea. But we want something unique. My wife says you can give us hearts like no one has ever seen before.”

 

“I don’t know if I would go that far,” said Professor Cordelia kindly. “But yes, I have set aside some special hearts for you. Let’s take a look.”

 

She led him into her workshop, impossibly large given the house’s tiny appearance from the street. Like most visitors Samuel gazed in awe at the stacks and shelves and rows, all stuffed with mechanical wonders.

 

Professor Cordelia motioned toward a workbench with a box on it, prompting Samuel to have a look.

 

“You’re lucky, Mr. Doolittle: these are the last three hearts I have. I made these a long time ago, back when home robots were first becoming popular. I admit I made some modifications —Industry Standard is rather boring, don’t you think? And if I do say so, I believe nowadays you won’t find anything quite like these.”

 

Samuel touched one of the hearts gingerly.

 

“What we really want is to make the girls feel special. You know: cared for when we’re not around. They get lonely when my wife and I are on trips and can’t get on the viewer as often as we should.”

 

Professor Cordelia took a moment to look around the workshop.

 

“I understand loneliness, Mr. Doolittle. I promise that your daughters will get more love from these than from any hearts you can get anywhere else. They are one of a kind. Well, three of a kind.”

 

Samuel was intrigued enough to finally pick one of the hearts up, and he ran his rough fingers over the lacquered red surface and the rounded point at the bottom.

 

“Like a living Valentine!”

 

Then he squinted his eyes.

 

“Hold on a minute. This one has a dark spot on it.” He held it up closer to his face to study it, and Professor Cordelia joined him to examine the defect.

 

“I don’t know much about these things,” he said, “but I know that when they have dark spots you can’t trust them. Lost three grand on one when the dark spot spread.”

 

Professor Cordelia was taken aback.

 

“Oh dear, you’re right. I don’t know how that happened. I’m sure it didn’t have a spot earlier when I was cleaning them for you.”

 

“Well, I can’t risk taking that one and having one of my girls’ nannies suddenly turn mean or ignore her or something. Are you sure these are the only ones you have? I don’t want to go somewhere else, what with how highly my wife speaks of you.”

 

Professor Cordelia considered, but only for a moment.

 

“It certainly wouldn’t do for a young girl to feel anything but special. I might have something... yes, I’m sure I might.”

 

She disappeared into a back room, and when she returned she held in her hand another robot heart, this one slightly more purple than red, slightly less shiny than the others.

 

“This one is a bit more… experimental than those others. To be honest, I wasn’t planning on selling it. It will work just as well, maybe even better.”

 

Samuel Doolittle felt the lateness of the hour and checked his watch. “Better?”

 

“It’s a bit more stubborn. Better able to handle the emotions children sometimes throw at it. It goes into the robot the same way as the others. Give it to the girl who is more inclined to be lonely.”

 

“More stubborn, you say?” Suddenly his face lit up. “Yeah, one of my girls could probably use that.”

 

“No extra charge,” said Professor Cordelia. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”

 

“All right then!”

 

With that, Samuel Doolittle took the new heart and put the box under his arm. Professor Cordelia showed him back out through the waiting room. He gave her a friendly wave as he ducked through the door and back into the traffic on the edge of the city.

 

It was closing time, so Professor Cordelia pulled down the crooked shade on her front window where the paint had long since peeled away. The end of the day was always a lonely time, but it felt more so today. She turned off the light in the waiting room and then made her way back through the workshop, turning off those lights as well, one at a time, until she was in her own little room way in the back.

 

“Well, Emma, I guess this is how it is for now. I’m sorry.”

 

Emma was sitting at her place on the tiny threadbare sofa, her eyes fading, without the sparkle that Professor Cordelia had worked so hard to put there. Normally she greeted the Professor with a happy salutation and a hug and questions about her day at work, but today Emma just sat.

 

“I feel different.”

 

She put her hand up to the open space in her chest, clumsily touching the wires that came out from her, roughly cut and left exposed.

 

“I know, Emma. But I’ll start again tomorrow and make you a new one. And then neither of us will have to be lonely.”