The Machine

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 As the gears idled and steam hissed, I marvelled at my creation. This is the defining invention of the century. This machine will change the world and advance human understanding and comfort beyond measure. My innovation, my masterpiece: the Acme Earwax Dissolving Nasal and Ear Hair Extractor Mark I (pat. pending). It is, I must say, a tall, magnificent, gleaming and imposing brass and cast iron apparatus. Its governor balls reflect the light like a spinning constellation, and its pistons speak powerfully of capability and precision. Each dial, knob, tap and lever is a true exposition of engineering excellence. It gleams in the faint light of my laboratory, ready to go on its mission to free humanity from the tyranny of unwelcome body extrusions. 

 

I looked at my creation with a mixture of pride and nervousness. Will it operate as I intended? Will it bring about the personal hygiene revolution that I had pictured? Of course it will. But, as the critics and detractors would say, the proof is in the pudding, and only time will tell. One thing is for sure, though. They may say I’m mad; they may say many things, but I know in my heart that the world needs this innovation, and it needs it now. I’ve even proved through a new science called demographic statistics that the time is now with an ageing population crying in the wilderness for the power of my machine.

 

With a flip of a switch, the steam traction engine thunders into life, shooting plumes of steam into the air. As it prepares to perform its intended function, the machine throbs with energy, its vast flywheels spinning and pistons pumping. Strangely, I note that my pulse is racing with eagerness. The first test subject is a willing volunteer. Well, when I say volunteer, it is in fact my erstwhile assistant, Old George. He does not seem keen, but dammit, I’m sick of repeating myself at immense volume to get my instructions across to him, and I swear he has bats living in his ear hair. Anyway, with only minor prodding with my hay fork, he steps forward, prepared to face the unknown.

 

I motion for him to sit in the elaborate brass chair at the centre of the machine. He obeys with quivering hands, casting apprehensive looks at the maze of levers and buttons all around him. Honestly, the man has almost no respect for science!

 

"Have no fear, my dear friend," I soothe him. "This equipment is intended to relieve discomfort, not create it. "You are in good hands."

 

“If you say so, your Reverence.” I’ve no idea why he calls me. ‘Your Reverence’ but it seems to be a habit of his.

 

I take a deep breath and engage the machine, feeling a rush of exhilaration run through my veins. The spinning of flywheels and the internal gearing became louder, and the governors spin out enthusiastically. Small jets of steam hiss hither and yon. The sounds are drowning out all else as the machine comes to life. It is truly exhilarating to watch, although Old George doesn’t seem too happy at this point.

 

First, the delicate probes emerge from their housings, resembling the antennae of a mechanical insect. They focus with precision and grace on the subject's ears, softly probing and poking to find the elusive earwax.

 

I watched closely as the probes worked their magic, amazed by the genius of my handiwork. They soon left, each with a payload of unpleasant earwax, which is then dissolved into the ether in jets of boiling steam.

 

However, my invention does not stop there. I manipulate the lever, the emphasis changes and a new set of probes springs to life.

 

They move with precision along the nose's labyrinthine channels, removing stray hairs with the gentlest of touches. The subject gasped in surprise, but thankfully, there was no sign of pain. Well, I assume the tears in Old George's eyes are only a result of his awe at the wonders of modern science.

 

Finally, it was time for the grand finale: ear hair removal. With a flourish, the machine created a pair of the smallest shears that gleam and glint in the sunlight.

 

They dive in with surgical precision, then small jets of flame follow, leaving only flawless, smooth skin.  The subject exhaled with what I can only assume is relief and collapsed into somnolence, thus proving my assertion of the beneficial and relaxing properties of the process.

 

I heaved on the red lever to turn the machine off, which also released the brass clamps from Old George's wrists. My invention has clearly exceeded my wildest expectations, revolutionising how mankind can deal with personal hygiene.

 

Basking in the heat of my victory, I turn to face the assembled group of scientific observers whom I had invited to observe this inaugural test. To my surprise, most of them appear to be looking glum and shaking their esteemed heads. Worse, they all seem to want to leave as soon as possible. I've never witnessed the donning of so many top hats in such a brief period. Now, I realise that this was just the beginning. There are still some adjustments and refinements to be made, but still.

 

“Gentlemen,” I say brightly.

 

“Madness.” is the only word that comes to my ears as they all file out.

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