Tavi had already selected the wood by the time the group reached his harbor workshop. He laid two rounded supports on a bench beside a rough drawing of the recording cylinder. Neither support touched the grooved surface. They would hold the unrecorded ends and keep the spindle level.
Ena inspected the curve with her fingers. “The left cradle is a little high. If it tilts, the cylinder may slide when we turn it.”
Tavi set the piece on a flat block and shaved a thin curl from one end. “The wood is smooth enough to hold weight without gripping the casing. I’ll make the second support to match.”
Han checked the bench and moved a metal clamp out of the way. “Nothing sharp on the carrying route. We’ll take the cradle and cylinder in separate boxes.”
Bai looked at the half-finished frame. “Is this for a music recording?”
Tavi glanced at Qinghe. “It has a spindle and grooves. I assumed it was a song.”
“It may be a researcher’s voice,” she said. “Please keep that private until the archive decides what can be shared.”
Tavi nodded. “I won’t tell the harbor.” He returned to the cradle, focused now on the curve of the support. “If there is a voice inside, I’d like to hear it someday.”
