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Beauty Under Pressure
She had watched the machine descend twice before it was her turn.
Now the brunette kneels inside the circular steel chamber, surrounded by other women waiting silently at its edges.
Above her: several hundred kilos of polished metal.
“Please… I don’t want to do this.”
The technician checks the control panel.
SUBJECT: BRUNETTEPROCESS: VERTICAL CRUSHTARGET THICKNESS: POSTERSTATUS: TERRIFIED
A man behind the observation glass laughs.
“At least she knows what’s coming.”
BEEP.
The press starts descending.
TSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH.
She looks up.
“WAIT!”
The plate keeps coming.
“PLEASE!”
Someone in the audience shouts:
“DOWN SHE GOES!”
Laughter.
TSSSSHHH—KLOCK.
For a moment she disappears beneath the enormous steel disc.
The hydraulic column reaches its lowest position.
PRESSURE: MAXIMUM
CRUSH STATUS: 100%
Silence.
Then—
BEEEEEP.
CONVERSION COMPLETE ✓
The plate rises.
TSSSSSSHHHHH…
The flattened print is revealed beneath it.
One spectator whistles.
“Jesus. Look at that.”
Another man leans toward the chamber.
“Uh… technician?”
“What?”
“You might want to clean the press.”
The polished steel around the machine is smeared and sticky from the audience getting far too worked up during the demonstration.
The technician closes his eyes for a second.
“Gentlemen…”
He grabs a roll of industrial wipes.
WIPE. WIPE. WIPE.
“Again?”
A visitor shrugs.
“You called it Beauty Under Pressure. What did you expect?”
Laughter.
The technician wipes another suspicious streak from the edge of the press.
HYGIENE STATUS: UNSATISFACTORY
“Animals.”
Someone from the back:
“Worth it!”
More laughter.
WIPE. WIPE.
Finally:
HYGIENE STATUS: ACCEPTABLE ✓
The technician tosses the filthy wipes into a bin, looks toward the next terrified woman waiting beside the machine and presses the green button.
NEXT CRUSH READY
“Right, gentlemen.”
BEEP.
“Try to keep the equipment clean this time.”
Beauty Under Pressure
She had watched the machine descend twice before it was her turn.
Now the brunette kneels inside the circular steel chamber, surrounded by other women waiting silently at its edges.
Above her: several hundred kilos of polished metal.
“Please… I don’t want to do this.”
The technician checks the control panel.
SUBJECT: BRUNETTEPROCESS: VERTICAL CRUSHTARGET THICKNESS: POSTERSTATUS: TERRIFIED
A man behind the observation glass laughs.
“At least she knows what’s coming.”
BEEP.
The press starts descending.
TSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH.
She looks up.
“WAIT!”
The plate keeps coming.
“PLEASE!”
Someone in the audience shouts:
“DOWN SHE GOES!”
Laughter.
TSSSSHHH—KLOCK.
For a moment she disappears beneath the enormous steel disc.
The hydraulic column reaches its lowest position.
PRESSURE: MAXIMUM
CRUSH STATUS: 100%
Silence.
Then—
BEEEEEP.
CONVERSION COMPLETE ✓
The plate rises.
TSSSSSSHHHHH…
The flattened print is revealed beneath it.
One spectator whistles.
“Jesus. Look at that.”
Another man leans toward the chamber.
“Uh… technician?”
“What?”
“You might want to clean the press.”
The polished steel around the machine is smeared and sticky from the audience getting far too worked up during the demonstration.
The technician closes his eyes for a second.
“Gentlemen…”
He grabs a roll of industrial wipes.
WIPE. WIPE. WIPE.
“Again?”
A visitor shrugs.
“You called it Beauty Under Pressure. What did you expect?”
Laughter.
The technician wipes another suspicious streak from the edge of the press.
HYGIENE STATUS: UNSATISFACTORY
“Animals.”
Someone from the back:
“Worth it!”
More laughter.
WIPE. WIPE.
Finally:
HYGIENE STATUS: ACCEPTABLE ✓
The technician tosses the filthy wipes into a bin, looks toward the next terrified woman waiting beside the machine and presses the green button.
NEXT CRUSH READY
“Right, gentlemen.”
BEEP.
“Try to keep the equipment clean this time.”
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