Robot Junk Shop: Steampunk Science Fiction

The clockwork pendulum of the amber cat's tail swung back and forth with the minute hand of the grandfather clock. The tail was getting a little scruffy now, the clockman thought, as he readjusted the time. When the cat was new, its tail had bristled in glory, but now it was a faded moth-eaten thing. The cat stared out the window, perpetually facing the city street, its eyes forever squinting against the sunlight of the day it had died. On the window seat beside the cat, a metal head stared back into the room, its eyes wide and unblinking. The clockman shook his head at it. 'Twarn't natural to fiddle around with robots. Not these days. Why anybody would think they still needed to, he didn't understand.


Inspiration: I wanted to do something a little more science-fiction-y.
Story Potential: High.
Finished Length: Short story. Could be novel, I suppose, if it was stretched. Really, I should just get rid of this portion of my notes, because I'm generally so wrong when I estimate this.
Notes: Science fiction, a little steampunky, a future where robots are considered old technology. Essentially, this is a junk shop. But one day, it becomes important again. Why? How? What can these robots do that whatever has replaced them cannot?