The Beard Attendant (B.A. for short) marched onward, his metal servos grinding up particles of sand as they turned steadily. Without doubt, he was going to have to change his oil and lubricate his entire system when they got home . . . if they ever went home! When Professor Beardsworth was on one of his 'brainstorming walks,' they could be gone for weeks, if not months. Once they had trudged all of the way to New Gear City; a great distance indeed and B.A.'s foot pads had needed replacement, amongst other necessary bits and pieces.
B.A. grew tired of these excursions over the years, as he felt as if he were wearing out, piece by piece, plus his masters beard kept getting longer and heavier ever year. B.A. wasn't a young sprocket anymore! He really should have done something with his life, like his maker had always said . . . perhaps became a barber? That occupation would have been fun, B.A. liked orderly whiskers, plus it would have helped him out in his current situation!