Oskar spent a few weeks getting material. He made deals with other apprentices and smiths, running errands for them in exchange for material or a bit of labor if it was needed. He did this alongside his chores and errands for Claus. He was happy to not borrow anything.
He worked nearly nonstop, during his shop time and after. Nearly every day he was up until the early morning hours until he had made fifteen dancers. Satisfied with the efforts, Claus set two outside to display and instructed Oskar to hawk the product.
Oskar entered the shop at the end of the day. He held the cash box that contained the coin from his sales. Claus was tidying the display area, saw Oskar, and greeted him with an outstretched hand. He gripped the box firmly as Oskar placed it.
“How did you do?” Claus opened the box, not waiting for an answer, and looked inside to mentally tally.
“Not too badly, I suppose.”
Claus’s eyebrows raised slightly as he appreciated what he saw in the box. “I see.” He turned to his office, and Oskar followed him there. Claus emptied the box into a safe then set the box on top.
Oskar watched as Claus made some notes in the ledger. “Will you be making an entry in the ledger for my sales then?”
“For a while.”
“I’m sorry for being direct, but when will you give me the money from selling those items?”
“When you’ve earned it.” Claus glared.
Oskar was indignant. “What the bloody hell do you mean, when I’ve ‘earned’ it? I designed these pieces, created them, built them, in my time and with my effort!”
Claus had stood and approached while Oskar was speaking. He backhanded Oskar. “Mind your place! You miserable, ungrateful wretch! You used my shop, my tools, my equipment, and made improvements from my suggestion. The only reason you could make these is because I taught you. You should pay me for the time, effort, knowledge, space, and equipment!”
“I’ve run errands and worked for you for years!”
“Those were the lessons! Did you think they were free?”
Oskar fell silent.
“No, I should think not. Sell fifteen to twenty of those, at their current price, then we can see if that settles accounts.” Oskar started to leave when Claus added, “Also, I expect you’ll be as enthusiastic as you were earlier about selling your item. I should think you may be more so.”
Oskar glared at Claus as he stepped out of the office.
Oskar continued his efforts on the following day. Claus stopped him at the door when he stepped in at around noon. “How many have you moved, boy.”
“None yet,” Oskar grumbled.
“Then what do you think you’re doing? Get back outside!”
Oskar shoved his way through Claus and strode to the back. “I’m eating lunch.”
“You haven’t earned your lunch.”
“Oh shove it,” Oskar called over his back and soundly closed the door behind him. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself, and started enjoying a quiet lunch.
Not ten minutes later, Claus burst in. Before Oskar could object, Claus led another man into the room. “He wants to talk to you about the automaton you made.”
Oskar’s expression had changed from annoyed to pleased as soon as he saw the other person. He wiped his hands, stood, and introduced himself. “How can I help?”
“My name’s Davis. I just have some questions.”
They went outside again, and Davis gestured to the model. “What, exactly, does this do?”
“It dances,” Oskar answered eagerly. “More than the simple clumsy circles made by the small models. It has more realistic movement. It performs actual ballet moves in a proper form. I dare say,” he added somewhat nervously, “it could be used as an instructional tool.”
“Hm.” Davis looked skeptical. Behind him, Claus raised an eyebrow. Davis spoke. “Show me.”
Oskar quickly took a model from the display and set it where it could be seen clearly, even by passers-by, and started it. Someone stopped and bought one while the display was running.
Davis watched the entire demonstration. “Is that all?”
Oskar looked at him incredulously. “What – what – just what do you mean, ‘is that all’? Are you insane? Do you know how much time and effort went into designing and making this?”
“I don’t. I might try to imagine, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the end product is one that many people won’t buy. It’s a great toy for little girls, that’s all. Then they’ll grow up and the toy will break and fall by the wayside. Maybe a very few instructors will use it, and they’ll probably forget it anyway.”
Oskar wound his fists.
Davis continued. “I’m saying all this because I’m sure you want to actually sell something.”
Oskar relaxed slightly. “Go on.”
“Like I said, this appeals to a small portion of the population. If you can make this, though, you can make something else. Something with broader appeal. Something that appeals even to another part of the population. You get me?”
Oskar thought. “What should I do?”
Davis laughed. “Don’t ask for ideas, son. Look around. Explore.” He paused. “I will say: ballet isn’t the only type of dance.” He let a sly smile cross his face. “Look at the near East, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of … inspiration.”
Oskar was quiet.
“I knew you’d listen. Anyway, I think I will buy one of these. She does have a name, doesn’t she?”
“No. I hadn’t thought of it.”
“Here’s another tip. If you’re going to keep making these, you should give them names.” He paid Oskar. “People don’t want a nameless mechanical statue. So think of a name.”
Oskar examined his piece, and set it to play again. Someone passing remarked on its beauty. Oskar reflected a few moments. “Bella,” he answered.
Davis nodded. “From now on, make sure you have a name for your creations as soon as they’re on paper – before you start building.”
Oskar watched Davis leave. “Thank you.”
Making it difficult for anyone to live and only gaining really "experience". So...relatable to this era. >w> And I love it. Though I hope Oskar learns that there is something to not being too broad in what one makes. There's always some people out there ya just won't attract.
