For each ascending counter-weight descended a ballet of tiny articulated ratchets spun at the end of rotating arms. Little hammers knocked screws off, pulleys pried pins out of their holes, each equally occupied at the business of their own dismantlement. Screws, nuts, bolts, shims, and soon the fingers and the ratchet themselves, joined the rest of the hardware in the cushioned cut holes where each and every bit of the machine was expected to land.
A single weight swayed, balanced at the end of the last tin rod, every other thing already thrown in their place to rest. All but these two components rested in the box, the equilibrium broke, the rod tilted toward the box; both fell exhausted in their designated shapes.
"So, what do you think?"