Once upon along ago a small child by the name of Cornelius was born. I say born, but to me more exact, he was made. Cornelius’s father called him a Componentised Child. For the less exacting mind it meant he was made of many individual pieces rather than grown into a singular being. Cornelius did not like being Componentised it made him feel inhuman, especially when his father called him Clockwork Cornelius, and then laughed. Nobody likes being made to feel that way.
Cornelius made the best of what his father had built him of: a metal coil; an old watch; an empty can; four stainless steel spoons; some electrical wire; oh, and the head of his long dead brother. It was the latter component that caused the most distress; his brother still controlled their tear ducts.
Cornelius wept almost continually. His father, a bad tempered man, did not like that. So, one night when Cornelius was asleep, or turned off, he removed his eyes. His father was very pleased with himself after that; Cornelius never wept any more.
Not being able to see troubled Cornelius even though he did not actually require sight to sense the world around him. He troubled over the fact that if he could see without eyes, what else could he do that he did not realise?
One day, Cornelius took it upon himself to see if his arms were actually made from bird’s wings, after all, he could chirrup like them so why not fly? He jiggled his way to the cliff edge, whilst his mother and father were making tea, and jumped.
Clockwork Cornelius could not fly. At least, not this time, but everything can be improved.