HairApparent
This story serves as a sequel to A New You, Part 2 – Enhancing the Lives of the Women of Gerancia and one can enjoy it independently without the need to read the original story.
Prologue
As a former HR director of an international firm that had left Gerancia’s shores, I was quick to adapt to the new reality. While the population had accepted a future of poverty and a humdrum existence, I had spotted an opportunity and created a business that promised A New You.
Using a reconditioned mobile ABX3M, or AutoBarber, my companion Josef and I had established a pitch on the edge of the market square. During our first morning, we cut the hair of women for free, offering a modest payment for the long hair we removed. Our customers were pleased with their reimbursement, and they appreciated the enhancement to their appearance to offer them A New You.
We were delighted too, as we had paved the way to sell the lengthy tresses to hair merchants in prosperous foreign countries. On our first day, curiosity was high and business was brisk. And, as the machine processed a head in ninety seconds, we made a healthy profit. And those fortunate wealthy women abroad, who regularly paid a small fortune for their hair extensions, could excitedly look ahead to A New You.
Towards the end of the day, one of the town’s most influential women had approached us. She wore a navy-blue skirt suit and wore her silver hair in a professionally styled crop. Martha Snipt was the principal of The Academy of Government Civil Service. For two years, they trained high-achieving school leavers to form the next wave of government bureaucrats.
Principal Snipt had told me that she had two hundred students whose appearance she wished to simplify, replicate, and maintain. Having seen my machine in action, she had invited us to perform a demonstration of our capabilities the following day, with more to follow, including regular maintenance. Furthermore, she had no interest in the hair that we harvested. We offered to make a charitable donation from cash received for the hair we sold, so the contract would prove very lucrative.
Although the principal had not warned the academy’s students beforehand, very soon they could all expect A New You.
The Academy
The Academy of Government Civil Service was a grim, stone building on the outskirts of town that surrounded a large central courtyard. We slowly trundled along the manicured drive, under a forbidding archway, and headed towards what I could only describe as a concrete parade ground.
Twenty girls stood in a line. They wore identical dark grey skirt suits, paired with a dusky-pink collared blouse buttoned to the throat. It represented standard government attire, but the resemblance to the school uniforms they thought they had left behind was apparent. Despite their similar appearance from the neck down, that was where uniformity ended. Their hair was a chaotic variety of braids, ponytails, and curls. Most students wore it well past shoulders, a substantial proportion past their waist, and a considerable number even longer.
As the principal had lamented, their appearance placed far too much emphasis on individualism. Furthermore, the ridiculous quantity of hair highlighted the considerable time wasted on caring for such an inefficient and unnecessary burden.
We rumbled to a halt on the edge of the parade ground, manoeuvring so that the rear of the van was visible to the students. However, in the drab surroundings, our brightly painted vehicle was an anachronism. It looked more suited for travelling to a music festival, carrying gear for a band calling itself A New You.
As I opened the rear doors, I examined the attentive parade before us with a keen interest that centred on their hair. However, I saw twenty terrified pairs of eyes staring back at me, clearly uncertain what was about to happen.
Facing the students was the intimidating figure of Principal Snipt, exuding an aura of harsh authority, firm action, and indisputable professionalism. She stood on a raised podium in her tailored navy-blue skirt suit and a crisp white blouse. With arms crossed, she surveyed the scene before her with an expectant, almost malevolent, gleam in her eye.
Behind Principal Snipt was an assortment of women whose ages varied between thirty and sixty. They were a select group of the academy’s teaching staff, there to bear witness to the transformation of the students in their care. 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 maintain a degree of individualism in the face of their demanding boss. While that may be the case, I was distinctly unimpressed by the leniency shown in the past. After all, individuality is the enemy of efficiency, and I made a mental note to discuss this anomaly with Martha Snipt in the future.
The Principal
‘Students!’ Principal Snipt barked without warning.
Her sudden exclamation startled me and Josef, unconsciously causing us to jump to attention as if we were soldiers on parade. Her uncompromising voice had the same effect on the students and lecturers. In that moment, I could not help but admire Martha Snipt’s unmistakable authority.
‘Today you contribute to the aesthetic integrity of The Academy of Government Civil Service. Our esteemed guests,’ she proclaimed, nodding in our direction, ‘have offered to eliminate the irritating distractions and petty jealousies that divert you from your studies. And, henceforth, each volunteer will be able to fully embrace our meticulous standards. Naturally,’ Principal Snipt smirked, ‘your decision will influence your performance review, when you choose A New You!’
A low confused murmur arose from the line of students, although they continued to face forward, their lips barely moving. Also, none the wiser as to our purpose on their premises, the lecturers exchanged puzzled looks, but they elected to remain quiet.
‘Silence!’ Martha Snipt commanded, after which you could hear a pin drop in the courtyard. Following her order to her students, even Josef and I stood more rigid by the back of the van. ‘Furthermore, for each volunteer, our compassionate visitors will make a generous donation to the academy’s outreach partner. Your altruism will ensure you do not fall below expectations when we consider the review of the charitable segment of your course.’
The combination of low murmurs and confused looks returned. However, they were immediately quelled when Martha Snipt spoke again. ‘Ms Kurtz,’ she announced, waving a palm grandly in the direction of her students. ‘Please proceed.’
‘Thank you, Principal Snipt,’ I said enthusiastically as I studied the delicious menu, resisting the temptation to lick my lips with anticipation.
The Initiation
Josef and I relaxed a little as we swung the rear doors fully open, revealing the AutoBarber machine to the watching crowd. Then, like an officer inspecting a parade, I strode up to the line of students and took charge.
I put aside the subtle niceties I employed in the market square to coerce potential customers to sit in my chair. Channelling the authority conferred by Principal Snipt, I selected the first terrified student from my captive audience. I took her gently but firmly by the arm, and I silently marched her to the back of the van. Her hair was a deep black with a lustrous shine, pluming from a high ponytail with the neatly trimmed ends brushing her waist. Gesturing for her to sit, I directed Josef to strap her in while I adjusted the controls.
Ms Snipt descended from her pulpit, stood next to me with arms folded, staring intently as we prepared the first victim.
‘So, Principal Snipt, I have set the controls for the heartfelt emulation of those haircuts you witnessed yesterday. We gave them a smart “Berlin Bob”, and we will give each of your students the same. They will all look identical,’ I explained. ‘I trust that will be satisfactory?’
‘Hmm,’ she considered, head to one side as she surveyed the seated student. ‘I wonder, Claudia, could you take the perimeter of the bowl higher, and also ensure the back and sides are completely smooth?’ she asked casually.
I realised that none of those present understood the capabilities of the AutoBarber or, even seen what Ms Snipt had witnessed. That said, the eyes of all the students and lecturers widened dramatically at the mention of higher and smoother.
‘Of course, Ms Snipt,’ I confirmed, knowing that all the settings were already at the highest and would need intervention from my companion. ‘Josef, if you please.’
He had been trying to melt in the background, clearly uncomfortable with the task of transforming the students. Now, stepping forward, he looked shocked. ‘But Claudia, it would mean overriding the safe—’
‘Josef!’ I snapped, quickly cutting him off before he mentioned the safety overrides inherent in the machine.
He stared at me angrily before taking a wrench and then removing a panel from the side of the machine. Briefly he tinkered inside before replacing the panel. ‘Done,’ he sighed, shaking his head in obvious disgust, stepping away.
‘Thank you, Josef,’ I said sweetly, looking forward to seeing how much higher and smoother the students’ hair would appear. ‘Ms Snipt, if you would like the honour of initiating the process, then press this button here,’ I indicated, as if inviting her to launch a ship. She stepped forward eagerly and set the machine in motion.
Through the Perspex window, the show began, starting with the rapid laser mapping of the dimensions of the student’s skull. The machine’s mechanical fingers gathered the black ponytail pluming from her crown, lifting it clear of her neck.
The primary cutters engaged, slicing through the base of the ponytail with one decisive movement. Immediately, the machine sucked the heavy mass upwards, into the chute, before it disappeared into the heart of the machine.
‘Marvellous,’ breathed Principal Snipt, whereas the student’s shocked expression suggested she held a differing opinion. ‘So wonderfully efficient.’
The machine’s shaping arms descended. They moved around her ears with terrifying speed and precision, the clippers humming a high-pitched vibrato. I watched as the multiple blades bared the back of her neck before they moved up to the occipital bone, leaving nothing behind other than smooth, pale skin. Continuing around her temples, the blanket of hair covering them disappeared, exposing her prominent ears that emerged from a wide expanse of white scalp.
After the blades sheared the remaining hair on her crown evenly around her head, a harsh straight perimeter remained that was noticeably higher than before. The line continued at the same level in front of her, leaving a blunt fringe high above her eyebrows, exposing her forehead.
When the machine stopped, her “Berlin Bob” was complete, but it was far more drastic than those the machine had previously carved. It was a severe, punishing style comprising a thick helmet of hair on top, with the back and sides shaved completely smooth.
‘There we are, Principal Snipt. Our first “Basel Bowl”, I pronounced.
I was pleased with my inspired improvisation when naming the abbreviated and severe style, and the principal rewarded me with a tight smile.
‘And, as promised,’ I beamed, ‘completed in under ninety seconds.’
Out of the side chute, a neat, vacuum-packed plastic package popped out. It contained close to one metre of pristine silky black hair that flowed into the collecting basket like ink.
‘A New You is inducted to the academy,’ I proclaimed as I helped the dazed student out of the machine, her legs unstable.
A troubled Josef just shook his head in disappointment.
The line of students looked across in horror as Principal Snipt inspected their colleague, walking around the quivering woman twice. The look of profound satisfaction that she displayed became the student’s mirror, so I had no need to hand her a physical one.
‘Excellent work,’ Martha Snipt pronounced, dismissing the processed student with a wave. ‘Next!’ she cried, rubbing her hands together.
The Procession
The next student in line marched forward and wheeled towards us without complaint, although her eyes betrayed her true feelings.
The original student marched over to resume her place in line, standing to attention. She was yet to see her transformed hair, but she surreptitiously lifted a hand to her nape where it met the cold skin where her hair used to be. She let out a choked sob.
‘Hands by your sides!’ The principal called out. ‘The purpose of this exercise is eradicating vanity to give you more time to focus on your studies.’
Through the Perspex window, Martha Snipt and I watched the conveyor belt of transformation in companionable silence. It was beautiful to witness, although Josef agitatedly hung around behind the van, so it fell on me to strap each girl into the machine.
With a delicious regularity, a girl showing individuality and flair would enter the machine, and ninety seconds later, she would emerge with a “Basel Bowl”, looking identical to her colleagues. At the same time, the basket at the bottom of the chute filled to overflowing with remarkably long packets of hair exhibiting assorted hues and textures.
After I released each student, Principal Snipt would thoroughly inspect the student as she stood to attention in front of her. Adopting my proclamation from earlier, she gave the student a cold smile. ‘A New You is inducted to the academy,’
Epilogue
Once we had processed the final student, the courtyard was a sea of women, appearing identical with their severe bowlcuts. They stood in a row, the wind cold on their newly shaven napes. Principal Snipt was pacing the line like a general, nodding approvingly at each student, feeling the bare nape of half a dozen, wearing a look of profound satisfaction.
She sidled up to me. ‘This is excellent, Claudia,’ she whispered in praise. ‘The discipline demonstrated by the students and how they carry themselves has already improved thanks to your excellent services.’
‘Thank you, Martha,’ I acknowledged.
‘You will process all the remaining students as quickly as possible,’ she commanded. ‘However, this exercise has illuminated another issue that we need to address,’ she said, pausing for effect.
‘It has?’ I finally questioned after she was not more forthcoming. ‘We do?’
‘Students need role models to follow and, quite frankly, our staff fail to set appropriate standard,’ Principal Snipt lamented, but with her eyes twinkling.
We both surveyed the lecturers huddled together in the corner of the courtyard. Having gained an inkling as to what we were discussing, they clearly wished they were anywhere other than on the parade ground.
‘I could not agree with you more, Martha,’ I said honestly, with a gleam in my eye. ‘When would you like me to help your disparate lecturers to embrace A New You?’
To be continued
A Note from the Author
Further to sharing a selection of my stories here, they are also available on my personal story archive, including the next part of this series:
A New You, Part 4 – Upgrading the Academics of Gerancia
Also freely included on my archive are a great many additional stories that are not published here or elsewhere
You are welcome to share your thoughts on my stories on My Personal Story Archive, with no login or registration required
