Lucky, the Wanted

By Heetal Binwani / StarSpeckledSkies

It's lonely, being forgotten.

Okay, I guess that's pretty obvious, but there's really no other word that can describe the feeling; a pain that reaches too deep and has throbbed for almost as long as I can remember.

If any other word could even come close, it would be 'boring'.

With nothing better to do, I begin counting the floor tiles within my field of vision. I already know what my final count will be - 239 - but at least it distracts me for a while.

I know that there are definitely more than 239 floor tiles in this store - even in just this room - but after three years of being powered down and stuck on this dark shelf, my hinges have rusted, and my gears worn down from the lack of maintenance, leaving me unable to even turn my head.

Once I'm done counting the floor tiles (there are 239 of them, as always), I move on to the ceiling panels. One, two, three...

After our creation, the Mechanics always told us how wonderful being Chosen was.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...

But they never told us how painful being Unwanted was.

Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five...

Just as I hit thirty, the door bursts open.

If I could move, I would have blinked, both in confusion and to adjust to the sudden, dazzling brightness that floods the room.

The sun, I realize, after a moment. It's the sun.

When was the last time I saw the sun?

But, all too soon, a hulking figure appears in the door, blocking out those few rays of precious sunlight.

"-don't think you will find anything to your liking in here," The booming voice, which I now recognize as my Mechanic's, says. "But you're more than welcome to look around."

He steps further into the room, unblocking the door and the light.

And a little girl bounds in behind him.

I stare.

She has brown hair, neatly arranged into two braids that are tied together at the ends with a light blue ribbon, the same shade as her dress. She's short, much shorter than my Mechanic, and freckles dot her cheeks.

A child.

Another person, a tall woman, appears in the door, but I can't bring myself to care about the loss of light. It's been a long time since I last saw the sun, but even longer since I saw a child.

But my awe soon turns into confusion. What is a child doing in here? Why isn't she in the outer part of the store, picking her lifelong friend from one of the better creations?

Why would she want one of the mistakes?

The girl looks around, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. And then, she dashes off, further into the room and out of my field of vision, her braids jumping on her shoulders in time with her steps.

With her out of sight, I focus on the woman - the girl's mother, presumably - and my Mechanic. They talk quietly, clearly trying not to alert the little girl.

"Do you not have any... better options?" The woman asks.

My Mechanic shakes his head. "All my best automations were out in the open, madam. If your daughter couldn't find anything out there, she certainly won't find anything here. It's all junk."

Any shred of hope I might have had is ripped to pieces at his words.

My Mechanic is right. He has made many, many creations, each more stunning than the last. If this girl didn't like any of them, she certainly wouldn't like any of us Unwanted.

Suddenly, my view of the woman and my Mechanic is blocked. Instead, my vision is filled with two bright blue eyes.

I barely have time to process the scene in front of me before fingers wrap themselves around me, and I'm lifted into the air.

"What is she?" The young girl asks, turning me again and again as she examines my worn body. For the first time in three years, I look at the room around me.

It hasn't changed much since I was first brought in here, although there are more creations and boxes than I remember. I can see a windowframe, behind one of the piles of boxes, which explains the sudden loss of the sun some months into my time here.

But... it's new. It's different. And it makes me want to sing with happiness.

If only I could.

"Ah, this little one." My Mechanic's larger, rougher hands wrap around me, gently prying me from the little girl's grasp. "She was one of my earlier creations. She's made to look like a nightingale; I don't know what possessed me to do that." My Mechanic laughs. "Should have picked a prettier bird, then she would have been a true beauty, and a popular one at that."

"Well, I think she's really pretty!" The little girl's voice rings out, defiant. "I want her."

"This ugly thing? Really?" My Mechanic sounds surprised.

"Are you sure, darling?" The woman adds. "We can find you a prettier songbird somewhere else."

The little girl stomps her foot. "No! She's beautiful, and I. Want. Her!"

"Okay, okay, dear." The woman hurries to reassure her daughter. "How long would it take you to repair her, Mr. Lloyd?"

"A week, at least." My Mechanic replies. "She's in pretty bad shape."

"Do it. We'll come back for her then."

My Mechanic nods, and, after the three of them exchange a few more words, they all leave the room. I remain gripped in my Mechanic's hand.

For the first time in three years, I leave the back room. The room for the Unwanted.

He sets me down on his workbench, facing towards the front door. His store is definitely bigger, and better organized, but otherwise not much different from how it was three years ago.

The little girl and her mother leave shortly after that. It's a week before I see them again; a week in which I am powered on, fixed, and polished until I shine.

I am not stunning, but at least I'm not broken.

The next time the little girl and her mother visit the store, the girl bounds right over to my Mechanic's workbench, almost shaking with excitement. "Where is she?" she demands. "I want to see her!"

"Maggie!" The woman scolds. "Be patient!"

"Sorry, Mama." The girl - Maggie - responds, but she doesn't let go of the counter.

My Mechanic chuckles. "Don't worry, she's right here. Fly to her, birdie."

I listen to my Mechanic, flapping my newly-repaired mechanical wings and lifting into the air. The feeling is thrilling - after years of being stuck in the same place, I'm still not used to the unlimited movement I have now.

It only takes me a moment to find and settle on Maggie's shoulder. She gasps, twisting her head to look at me, a smile growing on her face. "Wow!"

"What do you want to name her?" The woman asks, watching us with a small smile on her face.

"How about... Lucky?" She suggests, directing her words at me.

Lucky. It hits me right at that moment - I am being Chosen. Only the Chosen get names.

I shouldn't be surprised. I listened to my Mechanic and the woman. I knew they were coming back for me in a week. But, somehow, I didn't really process it - not until now.

I won't be No-Name the Unwanted, not anymore. I won't be stuck in one place anymore.

I won't be lonely anymore.

Lucky. It's perfect. Because that's what I am - I'm so, so lucky, to have been picked by this wonderful young girl, who sees something in me that nobody else even bothers to look for.

Tilting my head at her, I chirp in agreement.

Thankfully, Maggie seems to understand. "She likes it! Oh, thank you, sir!"

My Mechanic laughs. "No problem, little miss. Have fun with Lucky!"

"I will, sir!"

And, with that, we're off, Maggie running for the door, her poor mother struggling to keep up with her.

From that day on, I am never lonely again.

It takes some time for me to fully accept the fact that I am a Chosen, now. Years of being ignored and mocked, followed by years of being forgotten, left their mark. I am loved now, and it is a strange concept.

But my human makes sure to remind me of it everyday. Whether it's a whispered "I love you," remembering when I need maintenance, a gentle pat on the head, or anything in between, Maggie never lets me forget it.

And, slowly but surely, the truth sinks in.

Let the world think what they want of me - their opinions don't matter to me anymore. Maggie's opinion never changes, and that's all that matters to me.

According to her, I am Lucky. And I am Wanted.