MonstrousMay 8. Reproduction

Dearest Editor,

Forgery is such an ugly word, don't you think? I can be accused of many things, but I don't believe forgery should be among them. I create exact replicas, an art form unto itself. 

So what if my handiwork recreates living things? That, too, has been a time-honored tradition. From the mechanical chess players to the animals that ringed King Solomon's throne, geniuses throughout the ages have made things that walked, talked, and drew breath. Are we as humans not all simply machines doing the same? I only recreated these processes.

It was unfortunate, what happened to Mr. Macher. I express my deepest condolences to his family. However, I can only say he got exactly what he had commissioned me to do. He appeared at my shop at a very late hour. Drunk, I might add. He had seen my work on exhibition at the municipal museum. I cannot and will not divulge the secret to my craft, and no offense intended, you likely wouldn't understand even if I did. If the exhibition still stands I invite you to see for yourself. Then you might understand why Mr. Macher hired me.

He convinced me, despite my reticence, that he could pay any price. Now that he is dead, I feel it isn't uncouth to reveal the nature of his request. He was a miserable man, I must assure you. His ill-gotten gains had raised suspicion. 

To put it simply, he needed to disappear. Mr. Macher needed the right people (and I must regrettably inform you that the widow Macher was among those listed) to believe he was dead. For him, I would create a convincing likeness. This ersatz Macher would meet a terrible fate, falling from the side of one of his many sailing vessels. He would be lost to the sea and with him any material possibility of prosecution. 

It is true that Mr. Macher himself, as well as my faithful reproduction, fell from the boat near dusk on the agreed upon date. I was in attendance, should my creation need adjustments before the moment of tragedy. I, as well as my Macher, completed our tasks effectively. But we did not anticipate a poorly placed bucket that caused my client to fall overboard as well.

It was with great horror that I realized the body they pulled from the water was the flesh and blood Macher, his piteous lungs filled with brine. And along with him died any chance of receiving my commission.

Imagine my surprise when Mr. Macher returned to my shop late that same night, dripping wet and swaddled in seaweed. Even I was convinced for a moment that he had somehow survived. Until eventually, I saw the water pouring from the joints and from his open mouth as he made to speak to me, his lower jaw now a jagged wound of bleeding wood.

It is only right that I still received payment for my work, that you must agree with. After working through the night to repair him, my Macher went to the bank first thing the following morning, before news of Macher's death had spread. You muat take my word for this, but I instructed him to only withdraw what was owed. Not a single penny more.

Instead, he returned to me with a carriage filled with gold and valuables. What choice did I have but to flee? While it could be said I didn't also have to burn my workshop, I'm sure you could understand my desire to keep the nature of my work proprietary. And I did leave the Macher machine to explain what had happened.

I am sending this letter in response to your headline and subsequent story that I was arrested for forgery and impersonation. This is patently false on several levels.

I hope you can pass this along to the city constabulary and inform them that the "me" they have in custody will likely lose power soon, so they needn't continue to feed or clothe it. They may destroy it or donate it to the museum to join my other works. That decision I leave in their very capable hands.

Thank You and Good Day,

A Concerned Citizen