Nail Chimes: Post-apocalyptic art museum

The rasp of a rusty nail against the bars that blocked the window makes me wince. Once it might have been musical, like chimes, an art piece on display.... a nail, bars, but they make such beautiful music. The robot has rusted away, but it still functions. The rusty nail drags across the bars and it sounds like the scream of tortured babies who have been screaming for a very long time. It once was a statement of some sort, I'm guessing, a political declaration that even in imprisonment, there can be music. When I walk past, I kick the robot over. Its stand breaks off, but its arm still moves jerkily, the rusty nail cutting through the air. The horrible screeching has stopped. Where the nail ran, the bars have almost been worn through by repeated pressure. It must have been performing over and over for the last thirty years.


Inspiration: Afrika Bambaadaa. Don't ask me to explain it.
Story Potential: Medium.
Finished Length: I don't know what the story is, I just know what the world is...I have no way of guessing.
Notes: Post-apocalyptic, obviously. The first-person character just slid under my skin. Imprisonment is key.