We were ensconced in our office, the hum of radio equipment buzzing away around us, and I was looking at some rather interesting documents, including the picture enclosed.
“So,” I began carefully, “You want to replace the Bombastophone in the Rookswood Brewery… with these?”
“Yes,” Ms. Flood responded without a moment’s pause, “It’ll give Mr Rayna some prims back. Just get Mr. P. to mesh them up and…”
“Hold,” I raised a hand. “Why mesh?”
“Leaves prims free for the actuators,” she responded. “Each of the Intonarumori has an actuator, like a button, pedal, crank or plunger, and a lever to control pitch. Not including a place to stand and operate the things – although I feel having a giant music box thing to control them might be fun.”
“Fun,” I murmured, imagining the existing machine replaced by a garrison of these frankly dull-looking wooden boxes. “Perhaps we should bronze a newbie for a presiding automaton?”
Alas! O Maku ibn-Selat, you fool, when will you learn to keep your mouth shut?