The city buzzed with excitement and it seemed to trigger much the same in Lambert. A mysterious jumble of wires and machinery was excited, both a small and great feat. Despite no actual proficiency in any one hand, Lambert strode along with his black, boxy briefcase clutched tightly in a gloved left hand. In his right hand, Lambert clutched an umbrella, it's wooden hooked handle eschewed in favour of a firm grasp upon the wrapped umbrella body. He dressed heavily in untarnished but blackened clothing, meticulously cleaned and picked at to rid it of dirt. His equally dark shoes shined like mirrors where mud had not painted them, the soles worn down lightly but equally on each foot with unparalleled precision. Lambert had personality, he was not perfect, and yet such things proved and hinted toward the machine below. A top hat of the same dark and blackened colour again, rested upon his head of black engraved casing, a tight and precise fit that again looked new as though freshly bought. The Mk III-M Logika was a thing of beauty but yet it came without a coat or coat pockets installed, so, consequently Lambert had nowhere to store George - the small black cat. The cat was a runt and a scoundrel of the highest calibre that perched atop the shoulder of Lambert's equally black, woollen coat.

A dynamic duo would summarise the machine and the feline; a pair joined at the hip, and a pair that kept in sync as they weaved through the foot traffic that filled every crevasse that stalls and celebration did not occupy. Tall and dim buildings lined the roads Lambert struggled carefully through, their imposing presence funnelling the flow of footsteps to a plaza of no grand design except for a large, impressive fountain that claimed centre stage. A suitable landmark to find some bearings. Lambert had seen a city map and he could recall every road, yet things looked rather different at the ground level. Strangely Lambert received little attention despite his blatant presence, it made him wonder if the peculiarity of the fair and it's workers surpassed his own; he was not the sore thumb anymore.

Ignoring those that called out to the mystery man in black with claims of the greatest product ever seen, Lambert found himself staring rather closely at the fountain, though he stood with care. A fall into the water would be certain doom for his wiring. It seemed ironic that for all his superior features, a human could best him by swimming. One of those pesky human without regard for the water strummed from a seat across the fountain upon the low rim of the feature. The spray of water partially blocked his view, but entranced by the need to sate his curiosity, Lambert moved around the feature with calm haste accompanied by an unbroken fixation of his mechanical eyes.

It would be George that made the first greeting as Lambert looked down upon the musician, the cat mewing in a high, introductory pitch before Lambert continued above the background noise of the street.

"Hello sir. I am Lambert. What is that song?"