Spare and Found Parts by Sarah Maria Griffin

frames and the remains of chewed-away curtains.
    Nell scurried along after Oliver fascinated and appalled by the horrors around her. She wanted to explore . But before she knew it, darkness was upon them again. They had arrived in an atrium, and Oliver halted her, then left her alone for a paralyzing moment, disappearing into the blackness.
    Suddenly, with three flickers, then a bloom of light, the enormous hall was illuminated. The remains of reception areas littered the sprawling hub, and it was clear, in the very center of room, that this is where the biggest fire had been lit. There were the remains of a pyre, black and broken, like a crooked skeleton of an unknowable, featureless animal. For a moment Nell blinked and saw an elephant in flames, but she knew this was no creature’s remains; this was a man-made solution to a man-made problem. Fire for the disease. Fire to scorch it clean. The ceiling, far above them, had been burned almost all the way through, and stray wires hung, crackling, down into the room.
    â€œIt’s over here,” Oliver called. “We have to hurry. I can’t leave these lights on for long.”
    Nell scampered across the tiles to a bright green, hastily painted door where her unlikely guide stood. Oliver fumbled with his keys, then swung the door open, triggering a light inside.
    â€œWait here. I’m going to shut off the electricity behind us. I’ve nearly burned this place down again too many times forgetting it. Those loose wires are the bane of my life.”
    â€œAren’t they dangerous?” whispered Nell, but Oliver was already dashing back across the room. She shook her head and walked into the workshop, each footfalllanding in time with the now enormous ticking from her chest.
    It wasn’t a big room at all, but it didn’t need to be. The fire smell seemed to fade as she stepped out of the atrium. The windows were covered by clean, whitewashed wooden panels, and the false light wasn’t blue tinted or flickering, just cool and clear. The ceiling was unexpectedly high. Had she ever been in a place this clean, this untouched by the ancient grime of the city? A table stood in the center of the room: long and silver and almost mirrorlike in its shine. And the walls . . . Nell’s ticking suddenly changed from a steady march of uncertainty to the flutter of a baby bird; there were so, so many parts in all shapes, sizes, colors. So many limbs.
    Some were just plastic; others, wood. Many were painted exquisitely: looping, grand signatures along forearms, family crests on calves. Bright gouache flowers grew across limb after limb, the red lick of flames on one or two. Arms, legs, hips, feet, hands, all of different sizes, in neat, organized racks, behind set panes of clear new glass. There were cabinets with keyholes, displaying sets of dentures and single teeth, false eyes, wooden and porcelain fingers, steel and plastic toes. Nell peered down at the eyes, wondering which Ruby would choose for herself. Some were mechanized andwired; others, just crescent moons of painted glass. Oliver had really found an incredible stash. These would be worth a fortune.
    She wanted all of it. She wanted every single thing, to inspect it and play with it and see what she could make it do. This was what her father’s lab must be like, a mechanical menagerie of limbs all spread out on the walls like specimens or pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She was transfixed. How—
    â€œIt’s stunning, isn’t it?” Oliver broke her reverie, gazing at her expectantly, knowing he’d impressed her.
    â€œYes,” she murmured, still scanning the inventory.
    The door clicked behind him, and they didn’t say anything for what felt like an awfully long time. Nell walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining each wall. How full of genius each prosthetic was. Each of these strange inhuman things had lived a human life of its own. What must one feel