The answer is neither, really. And if you have a weak stomach or an adversity to exceedingly smelly procedures, stop reading now. It doesn’t get any prettier, although back in the new age of electricity they would have argued that to the last hair.

So what IS this decisively tragic-looking device? It is neither brain augmenter nor mechanical puppeteer, although it bears some likenesses to both. For clues, we’ll instead look back through time to the German hairdresser, Karl Nessler (1872-1951) and his French counterpart Marcel Grateau (1852-1936). Grateau is credited with developing the first electric curling iron.

A man of sparking intellect, Nessler also had a love of curls. The year was 1906, and inventors lurked around every corner. Nessler was inspired. Finding that he could "permanently" change the composition of his lovely wife’s hair with a combination of cow urine, water, and electricity, Nessler invented one of the earliest permanent hair wave machines.

"Permanent," for those unfamiliar with the term, means "forever," or at least until new hair grows in and the curled hair breaks, falls out, or is cut off.

Unfortunately, to achieve success with his newfound invention, Nessler burned his wife’s hair off not once, but two disastrous times. If you’ve ever had the misfortune to smell burning hair, you’ll believe me when I say it is not pleasant. In fact, it’s likely to make all standing nearby flee with utmost haste to empty their stomachs into the nearest non-porous receptacle.

However, by the 1920s, as hair and hems inched shorter in the fashion world, another inventor appeared on the scene. Virginia-born Marjorie Joyner (1896-1994) patented a permanent wave machine in 1928 as a solution to African American women’s desire for smooth wavy hair.

Joyner’s invention soon became popular not only for putting curls IN hair, but for taking them out. Beauty schools such as Tacoma, Washington’s own Carson’s Beauty College embraced the contraption with its metallic clamps, support cables, and tentacle-like electrical cords. Beauticians were trained in the art and nuance of prepping and electrically heating hair.

Imagine that—electrified hair.

In today’s beauty circles, "permanents" retain some essence of popularity, but machines such as this one have gone the way of our dearly beloved triceratops. The process of "perming" hair has changed dramatically, requiring only a bounty of curlers and chemicals to relax and reinvent the molecular make-up of hair.

Nevertheless, perming does, however, still bear the occasional less-than-delightful outcome. Why just the other day, my own mother went from chic straight-styled woman to gray-haired poodle. Tiny ringlets poofed in every direction. She shed a tear at the sight of herself, as no doubt Katharina Nessler did back in 1906 when her hair was burned and broken by her husband’s first innovative beauty device.

Ah, well. Few inventions perform perfectly right out of the gate.

All this said, dear reader, you may count yourself among the few who know the secrets of this mysterious THING. Know, too, that objectographers such as I have unearthed remarkably well-preserved remains of a few machines in abandoned beauty parlors and museum storage spaces across the globe. Although their clamps dangle like out-of-work hands and their electrical cords have gone too feeble and frayed to carry a hundred and twenty watts, the mere sight of one of these contraptions can put fear in the heart of even the bravest octogenarian. Believe me when I tell you that memories of permanent hair wave machines make most old-timers tremble at the thought of ever being put to the clamps again.

With that I’ll merely say, "Watch your fingers!" (a favorite parting phrase among fellow objectographers).