Chapter 7: The Life Choices of a Fabricator

Early on the Saturday morning (around eleven) I tried to get into my improvised White Deer costume. Apparently, animal costumes intended to be worn by humans should not correspond to the actual shape of said animal. Once I finally got my extremities through those narrow tubes, a big bulge at the back when standing up was testament to that. Now for the tricky bit: gluing the fake lashes in place without sticking my eyes shut permanently or dissolving them. Thus prepared, I hobbled across the landing to gently tap on Robyn's door. Woodworking noises filtered through the door, but no reaction came. She must still be fast asleep and snoring. The put-putting sound of a small idling internal combustion engine made me rethink that conclusion. At some personal risk, I decided to open the door regardless, to see my sister in PJ's and a white hard plastic face mask, brandishing an industrial size chainsaw. A large chunk of a tree trunk was in the process of being formed into a mountain of sawdust and some shape I couldn't readily place. It is moments like this that make you rethink your life's choices. Visiting the toilet beforehand turned out to be one of the better ones, but choosing the skunk costume might have added an extra line of defence that I now lacked.

Getting back into my intended role I started batting my fake eyelashes excessively (praying the glue had set), tilting my head, dropping to my knees and switching up an octave before asking: 'Sis, can I use your 3D printer please? Please? PLEEEEEASE?'.

Robyn turned off the chainsaw, took off the mask in ultra-slow-motion, then throwing her hair over her shoulder, revealing an evil smile and a wink as she nonchalantly said: 'Sorry, I didn't hear you. Can you repeat that?'

Dropping back to my normal register I grumbled 'You heard me! Can I use it or not? I need it to fabricate an instrument for that as yet unnamed band of yours you want me to join.'

She grudgingly agreed that if I bought my own plastic feeding wire and let her have what remained, she could free some time on the 3D-printer, if I brought my own laptop for control. Hers was currently being decorative only as it was still encapsulated in the last 3D printing runaway glitch in pink with silver glitters. She promised that the band naming would get sorted this weekend.

That sorted, Robyn was kind enough to help extract me from the Bambi suit. After some discussion, we decided to just crop the fake lashes with a pair of scissors, rather than spraying aggressive solvent into my eyes.

As I walked back to my room, I ran into Mom, who didn't look prepared for an encounter with a barely dressed adolescent with what appeared to be a dead deer over the shoulder. The feeling was mutual, so I dove into my room and rammed the door shut to the words 'And clean up your room!' which I didn't hear.

After getting properly dressed and having some brunch, I put on the helmet and went out to find me some matching 3D printer filament in the crafts shop around the corner. Unfortunately we have quite a long street, so that corner is quite some distance away, so I took the space scooter (one of those seesaw things that cost more energy than just walking) and found out that the helmet might be a tad big for my head, nearly crashing into the gate on our driveway. Judging by the creaking sound, the scooter was kindly asking for some sort of lubricant when I got back.

I reached the shop just in time to see someone start to turn around the 'We're Open' sign. Knocking on the door, I called out an emergency, managed to open the door and squeezed myself in past the stunned shopkeeper. I then stopped to ask the guy where I could find the printing filaments and if he could help me to try and match colours. As this was the best way towards getting me out and have lunch, I was promptly guided to a huge rack with coil upon coil in any colour you could imagine (and some I'd rather forget). The shopkeeper moved the helmet this way and that to see what matched. Because I stated the emergency in the first place, he didn't allow me to take it off first. Slightly dizzy, I took hold of the selected coil of bronze-filled PLA filament and followed the man to the cash register. In order to try and match the ludicrous nature of Robyn's musical instrument and to make the transaction more agreeable for the shopkeeper, I decided to add some of the top-of-the line red glowing orbs that were on display on the counter, to put in the eye holes of the helmet. After paying for my stuff (which appeared to include a significant emergency fee for an upgraded lunch in the deli around the next corner) I managed to get out before the door was locked behind me. Taking deep breaths to clear my head, I just saw some youth on my scooter, disappearing in the distance. My luck. I can only hope it will collapse and hurt the kid in the process. Let's walk home.

The rest of the day was spent behind my laptop, trying to 3D-model something that would turn the helmet into an instrument. While drafting a construction to mount the red orbs in place, I remembered something I read about the Spanish Cajon drum and decided that my instrument needed resonators. For this, I drew an oval frame that would hold some lengths of spare string from my bass guitar, using wood screws to enable some form of tuning. This would then be attached on the inside of the hornhelmpipe in such a way that the resonance would be emitted through the mouth slit of the helmet.

Happy with my designs, I went back to my sister's room to see if now was a good time for printing. Lo and behold, it was!

Given the usual patience of my sister (none at all), I opted for once printing a bulk array of threaded tubes with different lengths and finger hole spacings, rather than using trial and error. The most tricky part was going to be the bit holding the reed that produces the tone. An extra trip along the neighbours had yielded the much needed strip of elder tree, which was now lightly drying in the oven before cutting it to shape. To keep my mouth in good shape, I have opted for the fully enclosed capped single-reed variety of the hornpipe, using the leftover second horn on the helm as a static drone, like on bagpipes. This one was tuned to a nice low foghorn note. In my further research on the original instrument, I stumbled upon the notion that it has been considered obsolete since the 1600s. Well, Not anymore.

Most of Sunday was spent cutting pieces, assembling, testing, disassembling, until the resulting sound was to my satisfaction (and the yelled ultimatums from my parents got harsher). When Robyn sent a direct message asking if I was attempting to crossbreed bumblebees with pterodactyls, I knew I was on the right track. With the correct settings established, I decided to hot-glue everything together and let it rest for the night.

Tomorrow it will be unleashed! The world isn't going to know what is going to hit it! (unless they took note during the tuning session, like my sister, although I didn't play it at full power yet)

Caiman Raptor Elk

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