The sharp edge of our world ending a mere hand’s width away, the vast assemblage of gears and hardware hums with German precision as we position ourselves with the delicacy that the whirring blades of the mechanism demand. "Ready?" I ask, smiling. "Ready," she says, as a child might going to the fair. I begin by turning the knob that closes my eyes, and then I push the button that opens my mouth. When I pull the lever, her eyes close in horror, and I hear a gut-wrenching grinding. At that moment I remember the switch. "My God, the switch," I shriek as I fumble with the controls. "The goddamned switch!" But already I can hear the mechanism shutting down and see a liquid of some sort pooling blackly on the floor.