Awww so sad. I would buy a corset from that poor mannequin. :/

It’s fitting you wrote this now, after Ray Bradbury’s death because it has a lot of affinity in theme and mood with some of the Martian Chronicles stories.

I actually did think, as I was putting the final polish on this today, that this piece could easily have been set on Mars.

If a clockwork mannequin chants a sales piece and there is no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?

This is fantastic. You write a lot of brilliant stuff but this surely is up there with the best! The imagery is fantastic, and there’s emotion there without an intelligent presence.

Better question — “If a clockwork mannequin continues the hard sales pitch when there is no one around to hear it, is it still marketing?” :)

I could almost feel the mannequin fighting it’s own death. Like the way you travel through time and choose a place to dwell for an instant, then move the reader on to another place.

I’m just surprised it lasted as long as it did. That blasted landscape is harsh place to ‘live.’