“Mrs. Robb, could you please check out this student?” Martha Garnett poked her freckled face through the window. “It’s a hard decision, ma’am,” she added.

Her temper aroused, the irritable director rose from her seat, and made her way to the audition room. Upon arriving, she scanned the girl standing there, first her face, then down her body to her small feet. “Sing.”

And suddenly, the room was filled with the joys of the world in one girl’s voice. Birds were twittering, and the deep, expressive sound of a cello seemed to emanate from the small girl. Slowly, the song drew to a close, and she looked up with a shining face.

“What do you mean, hard decision. Of course you take her!” snapped the lady, evidently exasperated. “Do you understand me?”

Martha Garnett snapped out of a trance. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, wiping her sweaty fingers on her gray plaid dress. “Yes, of course.” She did not dare bring up her suspicion in front of her boss.

***

In the privacy of his own home, Dr. Ott Ward stripped the machinery off his fantastic creation and plugged it into the computer. His deft fingers flew as he typed a string of commands into the monitor and tested the robot.

“Perfect,” he said to himself. “But there’s one thing…” He picked up the creation and stuck her, feet up, into his carrying bag.

The room had been carefully designed so no sound could permeate the thick walls. Windowless and doorless, the only entrance was a trapdoor that led to the house below.

Dr. Ott turned on the soundtracks, adjusted some knobs, and perfected the song, complete with vocals from the famous opera singer Elizabeth Mavis. He finished a final recording and placed the speaker inside the robot’s throat.

Ten test runs later, the girl was back in the bag and a smile lingered on Dr. Ott’s face. As far as he could see, everything would be perfect. As long as there was electricity, the robot would connect to the network and would sing beautifully.

***

“The girl…” Martha Garnett muttered to herself, “she just doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it, but isn’t she a little weird?” She paused for a second, half expecting someone to answer her. “She’s just…” Martha picked up a silk shirt and folded it carefully before sitting down on the sofa. “She’s slow in her ways… she does sing beautifully, unlike anyone I’ve ever seen in the studio. But she’s different…” Martha paced back and forth in the room.

For a fleeting moment, Martha believed that she was imagining things. Yet her suspicions had seemed so real when they were still fresh in her mind. As days turned into weeks, the idea started to seem simply unthinkable. But it was always at the back of the mind, the mystery of the perfect girl.

***

Dr. Ott hastily spread the rosin over his cello bow and tested it once. Perfect. Suddenly, he launched into a piece of a music, a beautiful and haunting melody, one of his own creation. It took him away from the stressful life of his creation, his secrecy, his secluded ways. Often, he wished that he could start his career again. He would end up in jail, he knew he would.The government would not permit his creation. The exact law, Dr. Ott did not know, but it somehow seemed wrong. After a minute of thought, he decided to carry through with this last experiment.

The girl was working perfectly. She could understand and react to over five hundred million commands, the internet was secure, and the possibility of connection failure was minuscule. It would be incorrect to say that Dr. Ott Ward was not nervous. He was nervous, yet excited. The project of a lifetime would be debuting the Hallelujah chorus today morning at Jollity Hall in western San Francisco. He could hardly wait.

***

Martha Garnett sat at the back of the audience. As the famous chorus began, and smiles of recognition danced in the listener’s eyes, she ran out of the theater with a knife.

The power cord was cut through and through, and the auditorium was plunged into darkness. Some people in the audience lit up the rows with cell phones, trying to find their way out. Others were deeply immersed in the music, and did not care to escape. Suddenly, a loud crackling noise cut through the auditorium. The girl soundlessly moved her lips and crashed onto the floor. A wax arm flew off, and a chunk of her well-crafted lips fell to the floor and shattered.

***

Dr. Ott Ward stuck one bony arm through his jail bars, pleading for food.