The Humanity of Emotion

Chapter 1

MARSIUS

It is tough explaining humanity.

Sometimes, I ask myself: Am I human?

I feel and think. I find myself to look like one. I work to achieve something. I dream.

No, it’s not that easy. Humanity is something produced at birth, and with the birth which birthed me, I could say that humanity is not a gift I have received.

You see, I was produced by technology in an institute in Germany. It was there where I was “formed” (designed) and “reared” (programmed). Upon completion, I was sold to a fifty-something year old woman to be made a companion for her son, who was struck early by polio.

And now, I find myself hundreds and thousands of miles away from my birthplace, serving in a mansion for a young man who had no other job but to enjoy the arts and entertain others with parties.

But of course, I have no anger against my master. Due to his physical situation, he was snubbed by the working society. His parents have left him financially well-off; and these funds were what he used to bring others close to him. He made it his point to make his own high-functioning society of friends, acquaintances, strangers, and even enemies. It was the best he could possibly make with his disabilities: this odd, superficial group.

And he would throw the grandest of parties and salons, where he and his friends would discuss topics of great variety. Art, politics, culture, and ideas. If they were not available in that great manse in which he lived, he brought them in. Or at least, he brought dreams of them in.

And here I am faithfully, waiting for my master.

It is among my numerous duties to plan his elaborate parties, to send for servants in the accounting of the stocks, to write invitations to those invited (although there are persons who manage to enter often, invited only by the pleasing lights, the sweet aroma of food, and the idea of excellent company). In short, I manage his estate and his person.

And I am currently satisfied where I am, thank you.

RENATE

Life is meant to be enjoyed. Or so that was what my mother said to me the last time she was here. She was the kind of person who could not be tied to a certain place- she flew wherever and whenever she wanted. I would think that I am the same kind of person- had I not this disability that demanded me to stay in one spot at a time.

So there are times when I ask my friends to bring pieces of the world to me. If I can not bring myself to explore the world myself, then I shall bring the world to me. It is my greatest happiness to experience pleasant things, and the portal through which I may experience pleasant things is none other than my dear, longtime friend the Viscount of Philadelphia.

Now, here is a fellow who knew how to enjoy life and how to share these pleasures with others. While it was indeed Marsius, the Head Servant my mother purchased in one of her travels abroad, who ensured my needs and the comforts of daily life; it was the Viscount who brought my images and dreams. He inquired into traveling shows and circuses and had them present in my home. He brought art conventions in, and introduced me to the wonders of the dolls they sold in shops.

These dolls that he mentioned were not the cheap sources of amusement for children. They were excellently and exquisitely made, life-sized, and could provide an interesting conversation. In a way, they were produced in the same method employed by the makers of Marsius. However, they were infinitely more fragile. They were produced only in the forms of beautiful young women and could not bear intense stress or difficult jobs, unlike the kind of Marsius, who was primarily created as a companion and aide for invalids like me. Aside from these And these works of art could also produce more forms of art in turn. Dolls sung like nightingales and danced like sparrows. Soon, everyone aspired to possess one- but it came not cheaply. Dolls, like other artificial human beings, were extremely difficult to produce.  

“I understand that you would want one very much," the Viscount said. We were out in the gazebo, enjoying tea. I was thinking of having a new entertainment for my parties. I stuck my fork on the cake.  "These dolls. Only the public theatres have them. If you want, I can have one for you. But it will cost quite an amount." He nodded timidly.

"Worry not about the prices. Take the money from my account. I can see to the payment of the product. Pick the best one you can find."  I said rather authoritatively. The Viscount nodded. He understood from long ago that I could not help but be so. My infirmities render me nearly useless to do even the simplest tasks.

COLLIER

I did not lie to Renate. I did not exploit his weakness, use his money to earn my satisfaction.  Or maybe, I am just defending myself- trying to tell myself that I am a better man than who I truly am. 

You see, my family is high in debt. You might laugh. What is a title if the family could not afford to maintain it's own household? Most of our servants left. The gardens of which we pride so much in have degraded and grown into a marsh. And all because of the great depression. All of the our investments plummeted. We fell into bankruptcy, and gradually, all the pleasures of the past flew away from our lives.

There are only two places where I feel my old, renewed self.

The first is Renate's home. He has been my friend ever since we were toddlers. He was not a judgmental fellow, but believed in his capabiliites too weakly. While he exuded an air of strength and steeliness, he was actually a comforting fellow to be with. His parties never excluded me even when I lost the fortunes associated with my name.

The second is the Public Theatre. I would always be able to save some money to afford going there. I would find myself often on one of the seats of the back row (it is heavily crowded and expensive up front). Yet, even from my disadvantageous seat, I could still see the glowing, rapturous beauty and her captivating voice.

I knew she was not attainable. Not with my own limited funds and authority. She is a doll, an expensive, exquisite creature. I have heard of men falling in love with one of them, and men who suffer for doing so. 

Yet sadly, I am one of them. Everyday, I endeavored to see her, to hear her. Oh, Celestina!

But now, I can afford her. Yes, I could. I will buy her from her owners and bring her to Renate's home, where she will sing sweetly for me. And I could love her, uninhibited by the laws and rules of society!