Toby Madden/eyevine/Redux

Recently I had lunch at my neighbourhood mall, and afterwards I retired to the food-court facilities to wash my hands. Done with rinsing, I looked, as is my wont, for the paper-towel dispenser. It wasn’t where it normally was. Nor was the air hand-dryer, of the standard useless type that had turned me into a paper-towel devotee in general. In place of both was a waist-high, pewter-coloured apparatus with a pair of scooped, hand-shaped cut-outs, bordered in canary-yellow plastic. Dyson Airblade, read the name on the machine. “Insert hands to dry. Raise and lower hands through airflow. Your hands will be dry in 12 seconds.” I inserted my hands, feeling like a bit of an idiot. The machine hummed on immediately; the air that assaulted me was like a blade, albeit a room-temperature blade, powerful and sharp, but pleasantly so. Hoping against hope, I counted to 12. I removed my hands.

They were dry.

My hands were dry. It was a miracle. Here was a hand-dryer that actually worked, and not only worked, but worked without using heat to evaporate the water on my hands; instead it scraped it off with 640 km/h blades of forced cool air, in the process saving 80 per cent in electrical costs and making the Airblade more environmentally sustainable and hygienic than hot air dryers or paper towels. It was enough to make me want to find the person responsible, and offer him my congratulations and gratitude. Continue…