baudot

If, when walking into San Francisco's Airport from the train, you do not mount the escalator to the gates above; rather, you walk under that escalator.
You will find this exhibit: Automata.

Before thee were robots, finely crafted moving statues were an art in 19th century France. This one is of Pierrot, a fool, who's eternally heartbroken for his love Columbine.

This automaton scribes a letter. As it writes, it nods off, and the lamp dims. Wound up anew, its porcelain heart breaks again and again.