Water Power

Imagine this.  You and Dustin worked for a while designing and testing contraptions in Hero’s workshop.  Maybe that should be rephrased.  You worked quite a while designing and testing.  Dustin spent most of that time talking.  He thought his opinions would be helpful.  They weren’t.  At a certain point in the afternoon, you weary of his opinions, in fact, and decide to set aside your tools and tour the workshop.  You walk around the tables and shelves, staring at the strange collection of machines scattered about the room.  Some are little more than piles of gears and ropes.  Others look almost finished.  

Hero watches with a smile as your eyes settle on a wooden box standing against the wall.  It looks like a toy theater.  The stage is no bigger than a wagon.  Tiny wooden figures stand frozen beneath painted columns and miniature buildings.  At first, it seems ordinary.  Then you notice the ropes—dozens of them—disappearing beneath the floor of the stage.

“What is this?” you ask.

Hero walks over and lifts a panel from the side.  Beneath the stage is a maze of wheels, pulleys, and wooden drums wrapped with cords.

“This,” he says, “is a theater that performs by itself.”

You stare.  “By itself?”

Hero nods and points to a heavy lead weight hanging beneath the machine.  “Before the performance begins, the weight is raised high into the air.  Then it is released.  As it slowly sinks, it pulls ropes and turns drums hidden beneath the stage.”

You crouch beside the machine.  The ropes wind around the drums in different directions.  Some are stretched tight.  Others have loops hanging loosely between the wheels.  

Hero traces a finger along one of the cords.  “Every rope must be prepared very carefully.  A rope wrapped one way makes a figure move forward.  Wrapped another way, it makes the figure turn.  A loose section causes a pause.  Another causes the figure to reverse direction.”

You hear a voice beside you.  “Like instructions?”  Dustin is back.

“It’s like computer code,” you say quietly.

“Yes, like instructions,” Hero agrees.  He points toward a small wooden soldier standing on the stage.  “This one marches forward.  Then he stops.  Then he turns.  Then another figure enters from the opposite side.  All because of how the ropes are arranged beneath the floor.”

You look more closely and notice tiny hammers, bells, and drums hidden among the gears.  “The machine makes sounds too?”

Hero grins.  “The audience should hear thunder when thunder happens.”

You shake your head in amazement.  The entire play—every movement, every turn, every sound—is controlled by a single weight slowly sinking toward the floor.  

Leaving the theater behind, you move to another table.  There, perched atop a wooden stand, is a small bronze bird.  Its wings are spread as if it might fly away at any moment.  Nearby sits a sealed container connected to the bird by a collection of narrow tubes.

Hero notices your curiosity.  “That one is another performer,” he says.

You bend closer.  “How does it work?”

Hero lifts a small pitcher and pours water into one of the containers.  “As the water level rises,” Hero explains, “air is trapped inside this vessel here, and as the water continues to rise, the air is squeezed upward through this narrow pipe.”

Just as Hero finishes pouring the water, a  whistle begins to sound from the mechanism.  The sound is surprisingly birdlike.

“It sings,” you whisper.

“The air becomes its voice,” Hero replies.  He pours more water into the contraption.  The chirping grows louder, and the bird begins to move.  Its wings twitch.  A moment later they flutter.  You watch as the rising pressure inside the machine powers the little machine.

“Water enters one chamber, air is pushed through another,” Hero says.  “The machine does the rest.”

You are still staring at the bird when you hear Dustin’s voice from another table.

“What is this one?” Dustin is asking.

He is pointing at a strange wheel mounted upon a frame.  Fins extend from its sides like the sails of a tiny ship.  Below it is a collection of pipes.

“That one,” Hero says, “is perhaps my favorite.”

He carries the device to an open window where a breeze drifts into the room.  The wheel begins to turn, and as it spins, the machine’s rods and pistons begin moving.  A moment later, a clear musical note fills the workshop.  Then another, and another.  The wheel continues turning in the wind, pushing air through a set of carefully crafted pipes.  

“It’s singing!” Dustin exclaims.  

Hero laughs.  “You should hear it go during a storm!”

The music echoes softly through the workshop.  For a moment, you stand surrounded by singing birds, self-moving actors, and storm-powered organs.  It is simply amazing.

“How’s that wind-powered machine going?” Hero asks.

You almost answer with a biting criticism of your partner, but you stop yourself.

“It is all done!” Dustin blurts out.

“You are quite the team,” Hero muses.  “Are you ready for the next project?”

“Yes,” you say.

“We need to determine whether wind-power or water-power is the better option for that vending machine.  Can you construct a water-powered device, and compare the two?  Get back to me with your recommendation?”

“We can do that,” you say.  You aren’t actually sure Dustin can, but he has you, and you are far more than average.  So off you go.