Post increment operator

The handsome cab refused to travel any further, forcing Nathaniel and William to walk the rest of the way. The cobbled streets beneath their feet quickly gave way to mud and dead things. Every time William stopped to stare at the shabby houses and even shabbier inhabitants, his father would pull him away.

At first the trip was exciting and mysterious, a great surprise his father had planned for William's birthday. When the cab passed the museum, Surgeons' Hall and the park, his hope began to fade. Once again Nathaniel choosing business dealings over him.

The air reminded William of the afternoon he and his nanny came across a mound of dead sheep rotting beneath an old stone bridge. He had only got a glimpse before she pulled him away, but the smell followed them all the way home. Even after the servants burnt his clothes, it took a week's worth of scrubbing to expel the stench.

A man struggled with a heaped cart, its contents covered by a thick blanket. Nathaniel put a gloved hand over his mouth and William followed suit. The buzzing of flies drowned out the stranger's pained grunts.

"I should not have had to return here, I paid the man more than enough," His father's voice was anything but happy, his annoyance building for some weeks. For a while William had believed his Mother when she told him it was a grown-up matter.

"This way, quickly now, before either of us catches something," William was all but frog marched into the airless space between two buildings. Inside the close an invisible boundary kept out the sounds and smells of Edinburgh. Even the muddy path beneath their feet solidified.

Nathaniel rapped upon a faceless metal door with his cane. It was painted a green so dark that it was almost black. Impatiently his father struck the door again, this time with far more force. His other hand, painfully crushing Williams.

A cacophony of grinding and hissing erupted from the far side. William took a step back, afraid the door was going to explode. Instead the metal rumbled in its frame before a dull thud announced an end to the unseen process. Finally it swung open and sweetly fragrant air wafted out along with Schubert's Trout Quintet.

Without waiting for an invitation, Nathaniel stormed down the hallway.

"Please come in and..." said an unfamiliar voice.

"That won't be necessary, I have come to discuss the automaton you sold me, some years ago." Nathaniel interrupted.

Behind them, the metal door closed of its own accord, and William watched, entranced, as the complex apparatus controlled its movement. Like a large-scale version of the mechanical toy he had gotten for Christmas.

"What seems to be the problem?" the unfamiliar voice was now focused on his father.

"William would have been fourteen this year, but the machine has not aged a day since you supplied us with it after...well since you suppled us with it."

Sure the door held no more surprises, William followed the mention of his name. The room was a hybrid drawing room, library and workshop. It wasn't necessitated by space or style, as far as he could see, but its owner's work required a fusion of the three.

Although the back wall was filled with more books than William had ever seen, the only words he understood were science, engineering, Alchemy and medicine. The other spines were either too faded to read or in a language other than English.

The man his father was arguing with was tall, thin and wore a butcher's apron over dark trousers and a brown woolen cardigan. His hair, going grey at the edges, was slicked, shiny and wet. He had a sharp chin and a thin mustache.

"Of course he's not, they aren't supposed to, they're only a short term..." The man showed little interest in either Nathaniel or William. Never once taking his attention from the two mechanisms he was affixing with a screwdriver.

"Good god man," his father roared, "could you not have explained this at the time! That we were merely purchasing a placebo for the pain and not..." Finally Nathaniel looked at William.

The moment was fleeting and then his father turned back to the man, but to William it meant everything. The compassion in Nathaniel's eyes reminded him of the days after the accident. Those long hours spent drifting in and out of sleep, his father watching over him.

"What would you have me do? Replace him for another that looks slightly older? It's possible but you would have to wait until I had..." The man's accent was neither Scottish nor English. The only place William had heard people talk similarly was in the theater. Usually some American pretending to be a British aristocrat.

"No, sir that will not do! I have a good mind to report you to the authorities or pass your name to the Scotsman! How would you like the rest of the world to know about your...your...little side show!" William retreated a little from his father's growing anger.

The man, once again ignoring his father, took the strange mechanism over to a workbench just below the window. Placing it down with reverence among a collection of similar looking objects. He began moving them around, as if trying to form some pattern. From his vantage point William couldn't see much of it, and despite his excitement, he didn't have the courage to go any closer.

"Please," his father let out a sigh, "If it's a question of money then just name your price and I will meet it. My son, my legacy is worth more to me than any amount. A house on the Royal Mile or a prime spot in the New Town is yours for the asking. Imagine the people you could...."

"It's not about money, it never has been. I am in a position to help those who have suffered a loss come to terms with it in their own time. To give them something of the person they grieve," The man picked up a small heart shaped box made from brass, opening it like a locket. From inside the front pocket of his apron he pulled a small vial filled with a dark red liquid.

A coppery smell escaped when the man popped the wooden stopper. Carefully pouring it into the heart, he discarded the vial and snapped the locket closed. Nathaniel slumped into an old green leather arm chair. Silently taking off his hat and gloves, before stacking them neatly upon his lap.

His father had a scar on his wrist, Nathaniel had always told William he got it the day of the accident. He never believed that story, it was too neat to have been caused by a horse's hoof. As the man poured the red liquid, Nathaniel's eyes moved between vial and the scar.

"Father," William spoke softly, unsure if he wanted Nathaniel attention let alone an answer "Who is this man? What is it that he does?"

Much to the his surprise, William saw his father wipe away a tear. An uncharacteristic and fleeting moment of weakness. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it. Silence claimed the room, almost drowning out the ticking of the clock in the hall.

Scooping William up Nathaniel sat the boy upon his knee. He hated it when his father did this, it made him feel like a ventriloquist's dummy. He had always been small for his age, and would usually squirm free in such situations. Only this time he stayed, enjoying the feel of his father's hand upon shoulder and the faint smell of tobacco.

"Is there nothing you can do for me?" His father pleaded.

Now having a much better vantage point William could see what was happening upon the workbench. Only what he saw made no sense. It looked like a girl, a little younger than him with thick blonde curls wearing a pretty pink dress. Only its chest had been opened like a doctor's medical bag and everything inside was made of highly polished metal.

"No, my part in this was done long ago, what happens next must be of your doing." Giving the brass heart a final rub with an old rag the man placed it gently inside the thing upon the table.

Standing up, Nathaniel put his son down and readied himself to leave. William waited eagerly to see if the thing upon the bench would move. Imagining it to be a ballerina from a gigantic music box. It was very much something he wanted to see.

Instead, taking him by the hand, Nathaniel nodded to the man and led William into the hallway. Waiting for the door mechanism to click into place his father asked "What shall we do for your birthday? I fear we shall not have many more together."

Desperately trying to look back over his shoulder William almost walked into the two people dressed in mourning. The woman's face was hidden behind a veil but, her long blonde hair emerged from beneath it. The man was doing all he could to avoid Nathaniel's gaze, and to conceal the look of shame upon his face.

"There is no need for embarrassment, grief makes children of us all" Nathaniel said, before leading William back outside.