A New You, Part 4 – Upgrading the Academics of Gerancia

This story serves as a sequel to A New You, Part 3 – Upgrading the Officials of Gerancia, and one may enjoy it independently without the need to read the original story.

Prologue

My newly created business promised A New You for the poverty-stricken people of Gerancia. Using a reconditioned mobile ABX3M, or AutoBarber, my colleague Josef and I had begun the worthy undertaking of relieving the female population of their long hair and paying them a small amount for the privilege. However, when we sold that hair to the merchants in wealthier countries, we anticipated making our fortune.

Martha Snipt, the principal of The Academy of Government Civil Service, approached us to provide uniform hairstyles for the next wave of government bureaucrats. A pilot exercise on twenty of their two hundred students at the academy had proved successful. Each student had an identical and extremely severe “Basel Bowlcut”. Principal Snipt was delighted, and she asked us to process the remainder as quickly as possible.

An assortment of the academy’s female lecturers witnessed us processing the initial batch of students. They were a disparate group whose ages varied between thirty and sixty. The lecturers all wore skirt suits, a choice influenced, I imagined, by their authoritative principal. However, the styles, colour, and length of the skirts were as varied as their ages.

There was even less commonality in the lecturers’ hair length and styles. It was as if the lecturers were determined to exhibit a degree of individualism as a challenge to their demanding boss. I was distinctly unimpressed by the lack of uniformity.

Without consulting the lecturers, Principal Snipt decided she needed them to set an example to the students, so Martha and I excitedly reviewed our options.

I tried to involve Josef with the decision, as I had with each stage of developing the business. While he was a wizard with anything mechanical or electrical, he had reservations about cutting off women’s hair. Despite the profitability, he had already grumbled about the bowlcuts we were giving to the students at the academy, preferring to keep out of the way. I decided that once we had finished that morning, we would need to have a serious conversation.

Although Principal Snipt had not indicated beforehand that the teaching staff may not be mere observers, they could soon expect to satisfy the standard of A New You.

The Lecturers

The teaching staff had watched the processing of the initial batch of students with varying degrees of curiosity and horror. Naturally, they were older than the students, but, sadly, their hair and attire exhibited no uniformity to function as suitable role models for those in their care.

Although the five lecturers wore formal skirt suits, they varied significantly in style and colour, as well as the length of their skirts. Furthermore, as one might expect in older women, their hair varied significantly in colour, length, and style.

‘Claudia, I cannot expect my students to respect authority if all the staff look like they’re heading off to a summer party,’ Principal Snipt whispered, leaning in to avoid anyone else hearing us.

‘Indeed, Martha,’ I concurred. ‘The lecturers should lead by example.’

The staff were watching us converse, acting nonchalant but shuffling nervously, waiting for Principal Snipt to dismiss them and the students.

‘Quite so, Claudia,’ she agreed. ‘Naturally, we would not wish them to look like the students they are teaching, but something needs to be done.’

I nodded wisely, while Martha looked thoughtful, a smile slowly forming on her lips.

‘I have the solution, Claudia!’ she said excitedly. ‘Henceforth, I will enforce the standard of a common mode of dress for the teaching staff. “I think a light grey skirt suit and a white blouse would distinguish the teachers from the students.”

‘Perfect, Martha,’ I agreed. ‘Smart, straightforward, and uniform.’

‘Exactly so, Claudia,’ she confirmed. ‘But we must also do something about their hair.’

‘Music to my ears,’ I murmured softly.

‘What was that, Claudia,’ she questioned, but I simply shook my head, indicating I had been clearing my throat. ‘Ah, no matter. They need a hairstyle that is different when compared to the students. But it must be something sterner so that they exude authority.’

‘Sterner than the severest bowlcut imaginable,’ Josef scoffed, fortunately out of the earshot of the principal.

I silenced my functionary with one of my famous intimidating stares before reviewing my machine’s control panel settings. ‘I recommend the “Paris Pixie” for all the staff, Martha,’ I suggested while I smiled at her with a wicked glint in my eye.

Principal Snipt raised a questioning eyebrow, requiring clarification.

‘Also known as a flattop,’ I said, lowering my voice. ‘It is the ultimate look of bureaucratic command. It is precise and severe, never a hair out of place. We create a stiff brush on the crown, with the hair completely eliminated from the back and sides of the head.’

Principal Snipt’s smile broadened.

‘An efficient style,’ I added with mounting enthusiasm. ‘One that leaves no room for questions and no room for arguments.’

Martha nodded. ‘That sounds perfect, Ms Kurtz,’ she said, loud enough for the assembled throng to hear, although they had no idea what we had agreed upon. ‘But we require a volunteer to assess its effectiveness,’ she smirked, casting her eyes over the group of lecturers. ‘Miss Hienteit, please step forward.’

The Volunteer

A young woman in her mid-twenties stepped out from the group of her colleagues. She was beautiful, with a thick, dark ponytail that hung down to the small of her back, swinging from side-to-side with every movement. Having witnessed the capabilities of the AutoBarber, she looked like she was about to faint.

‘But I, er… I do not want a haircut like the students, Principal Snipt,’ she croaked, edging slowly forward under the stern gaze of the principal.

‘Don’t be silly, Miss Hienteit,’ Ms Snipt smiled, although it held no humour. ‘Naturally, I would not wish my staff to resemble the students they are teaching.’

The relief passing across the features of Ms Hienteit was palpable.

‘But now that our students are looking far neater, we require the teaching staff to match their professional appearance… to set an example,’ she explained. ‘That is if they see their future at the academy. Her cold smile broadened, but the threat to the lecturers was clear.

Martha urged me into action with a subtle wink. I looked towards Josef, my reluctant assistant, noting that he had gone deathly pale. ‘Please settle Miss Hienteit into the machine, Josef, while I reset the controls,’ I urged, as we both watched her slowly approach.

My colleague was visibly shaking, unable to take his eyes from the lecturer. ‘Josef? What is wrong with you?’ I asked, genuinely concerned.

‘Claudia… please stop… stop this…,’ he stuttered. ‘We… I… I cannot do this.’

‘Josef, stop being silly! After all, we have already processed twenty of them,’ I reminded him, astonished by his irritating sensitivity to our profitable task. ‘What does one more matter?’

‘That is…’ he said, his breath hitching. ‘That is Elena.’

I shrugged, raising an eyebrow, as the name meant nothing to me.

‘Elena… Elena Hienteit… is my girlfriend…’

Oh, the delicious irony of it, I thought to myself. Josef had previously mentioned he had a girlfriend, and that alone surprised me. He had also said that she had liked his former messy hair, showing she was a woman of questionable judgement. However, she had concluded that before I had him calibrate our machine and shave his own untidy head completely bald. I had no idea that my assistant’s alleged girlfriend was a lecturer at the academy.

‘Really, Josef? Your girlfriend?’ I said, teasing my recently shaved assistant. ‘So, did you give her the souvenir of your old scruffy locks that the machine spewed out after shearing you?’

‘No,’ Josef snapped. ‘I have not had the time. You have kept me too busy with all your stuff for me to find time to even see her since then.’

Elena Hienteit had slowed her pace, only having covered half the distance from where she had stood. She was staring at us, looking puzzled. Her expression suggested that she thought she had seen someone she recognised, but she was unsure.

‘Never mind, Josef, here is your chance to make amends. You can be proud of yourself,’ I said, my condescending voice dropping to a whisper. ‘You are about to make Elena the most professional version of herself that one could imagine. Fetch your girlfriend over here and strap her into the machine.’

The Revelation

‘I will not do it,’ Josef said, stepping back, crossing his arms defiantly.

‘Then you are fired,’ I said flatly. ‘And, if you would like a lift home, then you will have to stand there and watch me strap her in and then observe her processing.’

Martha Snipt helped me out by grabbing the reluctant student by the arm. Elena did not fight, paralysed by the crushing weight of the principal’s authority and the veiled threat of losing her job if she did not comply. However, as she got closer, her eyes widened in disbelief.

‘Josef!’ she exclaimed. You are bald!’

‘Yes, hi, Elena… yes, I know…’

‘But… but… and wearing a suit! I did not recognise you,’ she complained.

Poor Josef did not know how to respond. ‘Yes, I know…’

Martha and I relieved him of the need to find words by, together, enthusiastically forcing Elena into the chair. I strapped her wrists down and pulled the screen across. She looked at Josef through the Perspex window, her eyes pleading. Josef turned away, sobbing silently.

I reached for the controls, selecting the ironically titled “Paris Pixie”. I turned the refinement dial to maximum to ensure the blades shaved the back and sides of the student’s impending flattop down to the bone.

‘No, not that!’ Josef cried, remembering that it was the first indication of what Ms Snipt and I had agreed. ‘That’s almost…’ his despairing voice faded to a whisper. ‘That’s almost bald…’

The Fading

With Elena Hienteit safely installed in the AutoBarber and the controls set, the machine roared to life. I quivered in anticipation, while Josef shivered in despair.

Through the glass, I watched the mechanical arms seize that long, dark ponytail. The primary blade came down like a guillotine at the base of her skull. The weight of it disappeared instantly, sucked into the machine.

Then came the precision work. The top-mounted oscillating blades descended. They moved back and forth with mathematical certainty. I watched as they mowed down the dark hair, leaving a perfectly flat and level brush emerging from the top of her head.

The shaping arms emerged, moving around her temples and up the back of her head with terrifying speed and precision. I watched as the multiple blades bared the back of her neck before moving up to the occipital bone, leaving nothing but smooth, pale skin. Her prominent ears materialised like saucers from the white skin at the side of her head.

When the machine stopped, her delightful, if extreme, “Paris Pixie” was complete. It was a far more drastic style than those the machine had previously carved out that morning. Elena sat there, her head now a sharp, angular box of dark bristles, resembling a soldier in a dystopian army. The flattop, the most aggressive and masculine haircut the machine could produce other than bald, is a severe and punishing style. It was a violent transformation.

‘There we are, Principal Snipt. Our first “Paris Pixie”, I pronounced. ‘And still completed in under ninety seconds.’

At that moment a neat, vacuum-packed package popped out of the side chute. It contained a thick bundle of glossy dark hair that punctuated our success. Josef jumped as he saw it before looking away in horror. When I indicated that he should help Elena from the machine, he shrank away from his responsibility.

Instead, I pulled back the Perspex screen before unfastening Elena’s restraints. Easing her out of the machine, she stumbled, her legs like jelly. The students and her colleagues watched in shock as Principal Snipt thoroughly inspected the transformed woman as she attempted to stand to attention. She tilted the lecturer’s head back and forth, smiling broadly as she lightly touched her skin, checking it for smoothness. The profound satisfaction illuminating the principal’s features and the look of horror exhibited by her boyfriend served as Elena’s mirror, which meant that I had no need to hand her a physical one.

‘Authority, discipline, order,’ the principal proclaimed. ‘This is the perfect style for our teaching staff,’ she concluded.

‘I agree, Principal Snipt,’ I concurred, while Josef shook his head disbelievingly, ready to throw up.

‘Claudia, if you would care to join me for a nice spot of lunch, we will process the remaining lecturers immediately afterwards.’ I nodded. ‘Miss Hienteit, please tell your colleagues to all assemble here, in the courtyard, at precisely 1.30.’

‘Very well, Principal Snipt,’ she sighed, showing no enthusiasm for the task as she began trudging away.

Josef was leaning against the side of the van, his forehead against the metal skin. I dragged him by the arm to face his girlfriend.

‘A New You,’ I proudly called out to Elena’s departing form.

She did not speak or turn around.

‘Josef, meet your upgraded girlfriend,’ I sniggered.

Principal Snipt joined in with my laughter, the sound sharp and alien in the quiet courtyard, causing Ms Hienteit to pause.

Josef began to speak. ‘Elena, I –’

‘Shut up, Josef!’ she snapped, without even looking at him. ‘Your shiny suit and equally shiny head look ridiculous. I blame you entirely for everything!’ she yelled, jabbing at her denuded head. ‘I never, ever want to see you or speak to you again!’

Elena rushed into the comforting arms of her colleagues. However, when she told them they would all be receiving an identical “Paris Pixie” after lunch, they began edging away from her, as if her haircut were contagious.

Epilogue

I looked at the enormous pile of plastic-wrapped hair tumbling from the overflowing large basket at the back of the van. A veritable fortune in blonde, chestnut, and raven silk. And ten times more than that was due from this one establishment.

I surveyed the rows of identical, shorn women, their individuality harvested, and I felt a sense of profound satisfaction.

I was not just a director of human resources in a large company anymore. Someone who attempted to manipulate hordes of anonymous individuals within the constraints of corporate governance.

I had become an architect of women’s destiny. Someone who had finally found a way to make a chaotic world as neat and manageable as a spreadsheet.

‘Josef,’ I said, rubbing his smooth head, as his gaze lingered on Elena’s disappearing form. ‘In readiness for this afternoon, clean the tubes, oil the blades, and replace the basket. This is just the start, Josef. By this time next year, we will both be millionaires!’

The End of Book 1

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