Birdsong filled the woods, as it usually did, heedless of a silently moving figure in forest colors below. The figure looked around uncertainly, moving this way and that, before finally stopping in front of a tree.

He looked up and watched the birds, still oblivious to his presence, and finally chirped up at them. One flapped off; some of the others chirped back. Sighing contentedly, he turned to look at the tree.

"I think it was you," he said conversationally. "Not, I suppose that it matters much." He grinned lopsidedly at the tree. "I thought I'd come back and tell you that someone has done it -- made a machine that sings. It wasn't me, though."

He cocked his head contemplatively. The birds had gone silent. He chirped up at them and was rewarded with a quizzical return chirp. He smiled again and looked around.

"Years go by," he added after a moment, "and things change. I have taught instruments to almost play themselves, and a sword to sing. Why not golems? And yet..."

Smiling ruefully, he settled down and pulled out a guitar.

"I have warned it. Let's see if it makes the same choices I did," the man said calmly, smiling lightly. Moments later the woods were filled with music.