Chocolate Coins
Floor Heating Systems
Pedal Cars
Latex Swords

This edible money is a symbolic treat.

In some parts of the world, chocolate coins are stuffed in christmas stockings to celebrate the charity of saint nicholas.

They're also handed out to jewish children during the festival of hanukkah to teach them the value of money and charity.

Chocolate coins don't have any purchasing power, but they do buy a lot of appreciative smiles from the kids.

They start with giant chocolate bars.

Each one is 10 pounds of pure chocolate.

The worker transfers the big bars to a kettle.

It's a kind of double boiler.

Hot water bubbles and steams inside a sleeve shell to heat and melt the chocolate.

There are 2 1/2 tons of liquid chocolate in this kettle.

The machine now pumps the chocolate through a long pipe with different cooling zones.

The chocolate thickens but not to the point of solidification-- a process called tempering.

It causes the chocolate to form a precise crystal structure for just the right texture and taste.

The thick liquid chocolate flows onto a conveyer that brings the chocolate under a broad blade.

The blade levels it to a specific thickness and spreads it evenly, creating a long sheet of chocolate.

The chocolate now begins to coagulate and harden.

To spur that process, it travels through a refrigeration tunnel that is approximately 15 yards long.

This journey transforms the liquid chocolate into a soft solid.

Next, they clean and prepare the die.

It's a spring-loaded device that works cookie-cutter style to punch out round blanks.

There is one big difference.

Each cutter is long and tubular, so as it punches out the chocolate blanks, they accumulate inside.

The latticework of leftovers journeys forward to be re-melted into the process...

So not a crumb of chocolate goes to waste.

At the end of the line, dozens of coin blanks have stacked up in each magazine.

And piles of leftover chocolate have accumulated in a bin that will now be transferred back to the melting pot.

Now it's time to print some chocolate money.

To do this, they wrap the chocolate first and then emboss both the wrap and the chocolate blanks simultaneously.

Here's how it works.

Sheets of glossy gold foil travel between rollers to establish an even tension.

Ahead, a forked arm moves two chocolate blanks between the foil sheets.

Piston-like knives move in to wrap, cut, and fold the foil around the blanks.

The forked arm then delivers the foil-wrapped blanks to a die press.

It stamps designs on both sides of the coins, making an impression on the foil through to the chocolate.

The chocolate, although solid, is still warm enough to receive the image.

Removed from the machine, here's what the die heads look like.

These are used to emboss chocolate coins with american penny markings.

As for the foil discards, they don't end up on the scrap heap.

Instead, they accumulate in a bin to be sent out for recycling.

They make 150,000 foil-wrapped coins a day.

To change the currency type, they simply switch die heads.

Chocolate coins can be made in many sizes with a range of different illustrations.

The coins now spill out onto a conveyor that takes them to a bin.

All that's left now is the packaging, which will be the traditional mesh bag.

From start to finish, it takes less than an hour to make a chocolate coin.

Gold dollars or $5 poker chips, every day, it's a jackpot of chocolate money at this factory.

So there's never any shortage of edible cash, only decisions to be made-- poker chip or chocolate penny?

You could always flip a coin.

In-floor heating systems are hardly a new concept.

The ancient romans heated the floors of their bathhouses.

Today's systems use either electric cables or hot-water pipes installed beneath the floor's surface.

As the floor warms up, the heat radiates to people and objects in the room.

For electric radiant heating systems, installers affix installation gauges to the subfloor, then wind electrical cables around those gauges.

When there are no objects such as bathtubs to work around, installers can roll out a fiberglass mat that has the cable embedded.

Once the cables are in place, the installers lay down the floor.

Radiant heating systems can be installed under most types of flooring.

It's up to 28% more energy efficient than forced-air or baseboard heating.

At the core of those electric heating cables are copper or copper-alloy wires called conductors.

An unwinding system feeds each spool of conductor to an extrusion machine.

Extrusion machines force molten plastic through a die to form a particular shape.

They load the raw plastic pellets into a receptacle called a hopper at the top of the machine.

The pellets drop down into a heating device that quickly liquefies them.

The machine then forces the molten plastic through a round die, forming a plastic jacket around the conductor passing through.

This jacket insulates the bare wire.

A water bath cools the still-warm plastic to prevent sticking as they wind up the conductor on a spool.

The next machine takes two insulated conductors and twists them together into a single strand.

This forms a paired conductor.

Then the next machine braids 16 spools of triple-strand copper wire around the paired conductor.

This copper braid is the ground.

The ground will capture any electrical leak should the cable get damaged, preventing electrocution.

The cable's internal wiring is complete.

Now they run it through an alignment jig that straightens and smooths everything out in preparation for the next extrusion process, which coats the wiring in a final plastic jacket.

Then they wind up the cable on a spool to prepare it for packaging...

And put one end into a machine that cuts off an inch or so of jacket.

After soldering the two conductors to each other so that the electrical current goes out on one and returns on the other, they insulate this connection from the braided ground with transparent heat-shrink plastic.

Then they pull the ground over the now-insulated end and cover it with a black heat-shrink plastic.

This seals the end of the cable so that water can't seep in and short out the wiring.

Another machine produces the cable that brings power from the wall-mounted thermostat to the heating cables under the floor.

It's called the cold lead because it leads to the heating cable, yet itself doesn't heat up.

This machine cuts the average production run of 8 1/2 miles of cold-lead cable into several cables of standard length, either 2 or 3 yards long depending on the product format.

The cold lead is comprised of two conductors and a separate ground wire.

Workers connect it to the heating cable by fusing conductor to conductor and ground to ground.

They protect this junction with a hard plastic cover called a mechanical joint.

This, too, must be sealed to prevent any water infiltration.

After all, heating cables are often installed under floors in wet environments such as bathrooms.

So, they seal the joint by injecting enough polyurethane to fill every nook and cranny.

The polyurethane takes three to four minutes to dry, then another 24 hours to fully harden.

This machine assembles the other format-- the roll-out mat with heating cable embedded.

First, it winds cable the same way an installer would onto installation gauges.

Then it secures it to an adhesive-backed fiberglass mesh.

Three strips of adhesive tape above and below reinforce the bond.

The mat format is sold by the roll, while the loose cable is packaged in a kit with installation gauges and glue sticks to adhere the gauges to the subfloor.

It looks like a car and it drives like a tricycle-- a child-size version of a motorized three-wheeler vehicle, popular in the early 20th century.

Instead of gas, pedal power propels this replica forward.

Based on actual vehicles, a wave of nostalgia has put pedal cars on the road to a comeback.

An old-style pedal car is a snazzy toy with a sleek metal body and real rubber tires.

Highly collectible, owning one is a trip down memory lane.

Production starts with the pedal car's wood floor.

The worker places a metal template of the floor under a sheet of ash plywood and transfers the two to a router table.

With a pin in the template below to guide him, he moves the plywood as the router cuts it.

This produces a part that's the precise size and shape needed for the pedal-car floor.

Using the same system, he cuts a slot for the pedals and another one for the rear wheel.

He evens the edges with a hand router, giving the pedal-car floor a finer look and feel.

He glues supports for the backrest close to the rear of the floorboard.

He props the backrest against the supports and screws it into position.

He installs the dashboard framework further towards the front.

Next, they varnish the laminated ash dashboard a deep, rich hue, to replicate the look of the one in the original three-wheeler vehicle.

And now for the body of the pedal car.

A welder tacks together the two parts of the aluminum shell and seals them with special adhesive.

They then screw the wooden framework to the aluminum body.

After a thorough cleaning, they paint a primer coat onto the metal.

Then it's in to the paint booth for a glossy coat of automotive paint.

In the meantime, the metal chassis of the pedal car comes together.

A worker mounts a dummy twin engine to the front.

In this pedal-powered replica, the engine's purpose is purely decorative.

The headlights, though, are real.

He attaches those to the chassis, complete with the hooded framework distinctive to the original, full-size three-wheeled car from a century ago.

He then fits the tires to the chassis.

They're cycle tires, child-sized, to fit the scale of this toy-car replica.

A quick spin confirms they're operational.

He mounts the fenders to the frame just above the tires and secures them with metal brackets.

The fenders will guard against splashing mud and water.

He now transfers the car body to the three-wheeled chassis.

He aligns it with fixing points on the chassis and then screws it into place.

Next, he hooks up the exhaust pipe.

Like the engine, it's an imitation, but it looks real.

He fits an aluminum grille to the front of the pedal car, just behind the mock engine.

He installs a small windshield in front of the pedal-car cockpit.

And now he pops the dashboard, equipped with a speed dial, into place.

It fits into the pedal car's hooped frame perfectly.

He wires the battery-operated headlights to the dashboard switch.

He attaches the hand brake to the side of the cab and runs the braking cables to the rear wheel.

He threads the steering-wheel column down through the dashboard to steering arms on the front wheel axle.

He clamps it to the steering arms...

And makes some adjustments to precisely position the column to the shaft.

He fits the padded leather seat into the cab, and this completes the construction of this pedal-powered replica car.

It takes about 40 hours to make one of those retro toys.

When it comes to the authentic touches, dave spared no expense and expended great effort.

It's time for a spin to the playground and some good old-fashioned fun.

Some people enjoy playing combat games on video systems, while others prefer to exchange the controller for a fake weapon, dress up in costume, and act out the fantasy with those who share the same passion.

It's called live-action role-playing, and there's typically a medieval or apocalyptic theme to it.

These weapons sure look like the real thing-- so much so that this company also sells them as film and theater props.

But as menacing as these axes and swords appear, they couldn't even hurt a fly because they're blades are made of latex.

In the weapons workshop, they begin the sword-making process by constructing the blade.

After tracing a template on a 4/10-of-an-inch-thick piece of flexible waterproof foam, they cut out two blade halves with a utility knife.

After slitting one of them down the middle, they glue in a rigid 4/10-of-an-inch fiberglass core.

This makes the sword blade stiff enough for combat, yet flexible enough to not break.

Next, they glue a strip of durable polyester fabric over the core.

This acts as reinforcement, preventing the tip of the core from poking through the foam.

Now they glue the second blade half over the first one, sandwiching the core.

The glue is a rubber-based adhesive that bonds with pressure that they apply with a heavy marble rolling pin.

Next, using a band sander, they sculpt the blade's cutting edges.

Then they remove the foam residue with a rotary tool.

Next, they take a wood-burning iron and melt the foam in select spots to create the look of battle scars.

Then they spray on five to six coats of latex rubber.

This forms a protective shield over the foam without hindering the blade's flexibility.

Next, using an air brush, they apply two coats of acrylic-based latex paint-- first black, then silver.

They brush on a thick coat of black paint, then wipe it off.

This wash, as it's called, creates the look of aged metal.

And finally, they lightly dab some silver acrylic paint over select spots to highlight details.

From foam to main component of a lethal weapon in just a few easy steps.

They finish off their handiwork by stenciling on the company logo in gold acrylic paint.

Now for the sword's handle.

They drill a hole lengthwise through a cylinder made of walnut and glue a steel tube inside.

Then they glue leather around the wood...

And wrap a leather ribbon around it for decoration.

To give it a worn appearance, they lightly sand parts of the surface.

To make ornate handles, an artist first sculpts a model out of lindenwood.

Using that wooden model, they cast a silicon mold.

Then they pour rubber into the mold to cast a handle.

For that leather-covered wooden handle, they cast only the components above and below it in rubber.

After trimming off the excess rubber, they paint it to look like metal.

To assemble the sword, they glue the handle components onto the core, which protrudes from the base of the blade.

First, they position the guard.

It stops the opposing sword from sliding down past the blade and cutting your hand.

Next, the handle.

And last, the pommel.

It blocks the end of the handle to prevent the sword from sliding out of your hand.

Each sword this workshop creates comes with a scabbard, a protective leather sheath.

They boil and wax the leather to make it rigid.

The workshop also makes daggers and other realistic-looking weaponry-- all you need to bring out your inner warrior.


Today, on "how it's made"...

In the music industry, winning a grammy is the ultimate accolade.

The national academy of recording arts and sciences has been awarding grammys for recording since 1958.

Every year, the winners are honored with a golden gramophone trophy.

The grammys are to the music industry what the oscars are to movies.

The coveted trophy is made of gold-plated grammium.

But don't look for that metal on the periodic table.

It's a proprietary zinc alloy specially formulated and trademarked by the artisan who makes the grammys.

To make the base of the trophy, they heat the grammium to 644 degrees and pour it into a bronze mold.

They immediately pour out the excess molten metal.

What remains quickly solidifies in a thin layer against the walls of the cavity, creating a hollow cast.

They also cast the gramophone's cabinet and tone arm in grammium.

They remove mold seams, excess metal, and smooth out the surface of each cast component with a belt sander.

Then, they file by hand the areas the belt can't reach.

Finally, they polish the metal with an abrasive compound on a buffing wheel.

They make sure there are no surface imperfections.

Now, they work on the gramophone's iconic horn.

Using a metal shear, they cut a disc of malleable bronze.

They mount the disc on a lathe.

As the lathe spins, they use a series of tools to transform the flat disc into a horn.

Then, they spin the horn on a different lathe, pressing an abrasive cloth against the surface to remove any tool marks.

Before they connect the tone arm to the cabinet, they brush on some flux, a chemical that makes the stationary solder flow into the tiny gap between components.

Now, they bolt the tone arm to the cabinet, then solder.

They submerge this part of the trophy in a degreasing solution for a few minutes, then in water.

Gold doesn't adhere to zinc, so they plate it with copper.

They run a positive electric charge through the trophy and a negative charge through a piece of copper also suspended in the plating tank.

This process dissolves the copper, then draws the particles through the water and onto the trophy.

They repeat the electroplating process in a different tank, this time with nickel.

Nickel creates a sufficiently hard base to support the gold plating.

It also makes gold appear brighter.

After another rinse, it's back into a tank for the final plating with 24-karat gold.

To prepare the trophy's base for painting, they smooth the surface with a belt sander, then fine-sand by hand.

They spray on an epoxy primer, let it dry for a day then wet sand it with fine sandpaper.

They repeat these steps with a black primer, then paint the base with high-gloss, chip-resistant black paint.

Once it dries, they can finish assembling the trophy.

They bolt the polished gold-plated cabinet and tone arm to the painted base.

Then, they take the horn, which has been gold-plated and polished, and screw it into the tone arm.

After 15 hours of craftsmanship, this grammy is ready to be awarded.

But this trophy won't be handed out during the award show.

The grammys handed out on stage are actually props that are used year after year.

The winners receive a personalized trophy a few weeks after the show.

The base has a brass plate engraved with their name and musical category.

The first bicycle lights were modified kerosene lamps fixed to the handlebars.

The concept was truly trailblazing and made it possible to cycle at night.

A century later, the technology has changed, but the concept remains the same.

Bicycle lights are still showing us the way.

These bicycle lights are battery-powered with energy-efficient l.e.d. lights.

Mounted to handlebars or a helmet, they make it possible for a cyclist to see and be seen at night.

A bicycle light starts with a design for the canister.

In this case, it's for a handlebar-mounted trail light.

Following that plan, computerized tools carve blocks of aluminum into a two-part mold for the bicycle light reflector.

They secure the mold in an injection molding machine.

Then, they load white acrylic pellets into the machine's hopper.

The machine grinds and melts the acrylic pellets into a thick liquid.

Then, it pushes the liquid into the crevices of the mold.

The acrylic quickly solidifies into the shape of a reflector.

An aluminum finish makes the acrylic shiny and reflective.

Then, it's over to a different injection-molding machine.

This one uses molten rubber to form four on/off buttons.

A worker sets an l.e.d.-studded circuit board on a switch cradled in a fixture.

She trims wires from the switch that protrudes through the board.

She solders those wires to copper pads on the board, securing the switch and making an electrical connection.

She removes the assembly from the fixture and threads the battery cord through the board.

She attaches the board to a vented heat sink, which will draw heat away from the lights, allowing them to run more efficiently.

She installs the reflector over the tiny l.e.d. lights.

The reflector will focus the light forward, creating narrow beams.

Another member of the team places a tray of reflector covers in a laser etcher.

He closes the lid and activates the laser.

It etches through tape that's been applied to the metal.

The tape has a blackening agent on it.

The laser transfers that blackening agent to the etched number, making it stand out.

The number indicates the lumen power of the light.

Lumen is a measure of the total amount of visible light emitted by a source.

Back on the assembly line, a worker snaps the cover onto the bike light.

Then, she attaches an open guard to the heat sink to protect the cyclist from the heat generated by the l.e.d.s.

This bicycle light is ready to be put to the test.

A technician turns it on and inserts it in a device called a lumen sphere.

A computer analyzes the light and finds that it meets standards.

Next, an employee builds a smaller bike light for a cyclist helmet.

She inserts the l.e.d. assembly in a canister, then attaches the on/off button.

She attaches the light to a circuit board with three l.e.d.s.

She tucks the circuit board into the housing and inserts a rechargeable lithium battery.

She puts the assembly aside and attaches a red reflective panel to an aluminized reflector.

She snaps the assembly into a clear plastic case, completing the rear light lens.

She returns for the front helmet light and installs the reflector over the light.

She screws on a glass cover that's framed by a metal bezel.

She joins the rear lens and the l.e.d. assembly, encasing the electronics of this bike light.

She switches on both lights to confirm that they're fully operational.

These bicycle lights are ready to illuminate a rider's path, whether it's a shadowy mountain trail or a dark city street.

Installing a pool above ground costs much less than installing one in ground.

This is because there's no excavation required.

You can build an elevated deck around the top to give it an in-ground appearance, or you can simply climb up a ladder and jump right in.

No hole to dig, no underground pipes to install.

Just a day or so of on-site prep and assembly, and you can take to your above-ground pool like a duck to water.

At the factory, a computer-guided machine cuts vinyl panels for the pool's water-retaining inside surface.

The vinyl comes in a wide choice of printed designs.

It's tear-resistant, u.v.-resistant, and is treated with an antifungal coating.

The wall panel is rectangular, and the floor panels are curved to fit the pool's perimeter.

The wall panels go through a welder that fuses a bead to the top edge.

A bead is a flexible, "u'-shaped, thermoplastic strip that is used to attach the pool wall to the liner.

A hot welding tool slightly melts both the bead and the liner edge, so when they cool and solidify, they're bonded.

The liner is ready to be assembled.

Workers use a manual welding machine that generates heat with radio frequencies.

They overlap the edges of adjoining panels, then fuse them together.

After connecting the floor panels to each other, workers complete the liner by joining the wall to the floor.

A quality-control inspector checks every soldered seam to make sure they're solid.

Meanwhile, workers manufacture the pool's structural components.

They feed a continuous strip of painted, galvanized steel through a roll former.

The strip is shaped to a specific profile.

A punch press cuts the components to the required length and shape.

Four different structural components are made this way-- the pieces that form the top and bottom tracks of the pool, the vertical posts that support the pool wall, and the ledges running along the top of the wall.

The wall is also made of painted galvanized steel.

A roller impresses a corrugated pattern to give the wall more vertical strength.

Then, a press punches out openings for the pool's water inlet and filter.

After folding each end of the wall over itself to form a strong edge, they punch holes for the bolts that will join the edges.

A stamping die progressively shapes strips of galvanized steel into connectors.

The connectors join the vertical posts to the structure's bottom track and top rail.

An injection molder makes the plastic covers that will hide those connectors.

Workers then box the liner and structural components for transport to the installation site.

On-site, they lay crushed stone around the perimeter to support the bottom track under the weight of the water.

Next, they unroll the pool wall and place it in the bottom track.

They place a vertical post over each bottom connector and secure it with screws.

Inside the pool wall, they lay down a base of sand and compact it.

Then, they lay down landscaping fabric.

They cut a hole for a central bottom drain.

Then, they begin spreading out the liner.

They hook the bead over the top edge of the wall, then lock it in place with the top rail.

Once the liner is fully attached, they suction out the air to draw it tight against the wall.

They seal the liner to the bottom drain.

They hide the top rail under the ledge and the connections under plastic caps.

They run pipes to connect the filtration system and skimmer.

Then, with an ordinary garden hose, they fill the pool with water.

Foldable solar panels were invented in the 1990s for american soldiers in the field.

They use them to recharge electronic devices.

The panels have environmental and tactical advantages, conserving both electricity and physical energy.

Today, foldable solar panels are not just for the military.

These lightweight panels can be folded up and tucked into a backpack, allowing anyone to escape to the wilderness but stay plugged in.

Production starts with a roll of thin plastic film.

It's the same material used to make flat-screen tvs.

A worker loads it into machines that distribute thin layers of aluminum and silicon onto it.

The aluminum acts as an electrical contact.

The silicon produces electricity when exposed to the sun's rays.

Next, lasers carve vertical and horizontal lines into the film.

These lines define the solar cells.

An automated squeegee applies black ink through a screen and into the lines.

The ink will act as an electrical insulator.

It also makes it possible to cut through the film without damaging it.

Uv light cures the insulator ink.

An employee pours a generous amount of metallic silver ink onto a pattern.

A squeegee forces the ink through to the solar film.

This creates a conductive grid on the film.

A camera magnifies the grid for inspection.

The solar film travels through a chamber where heat cures the silver ink.

A laser now connects the solar cells, linking the bottom aluminum layer of one cell to the top silicon layer of the next.

The laser ties them together similar to how a soldering tool would.

This establishes electrical connections and increases the voltage significantly.

A different camera magnifies the connections to check the alignment.

Now, a worker loads the solar film into a machine.

It deposits a transparent oxide onto the film that will increase conductivity.

These solar cells are now fully functional.

The next machine tests each one.

It also applies a conductive foil tape at certain points.

Another machine rolls a clear sheet of plastic onto the solar cells.

The plastic adheres to the cells, waterproofing and encapsulating them.

A die press cuts out solar panels along the black insulator lines.

The press uses computerized cameras for accurate cuts.

A robot transfers each panel to the next station using suctioning heads.

A computerized camera scrutinizes the panels for defects.

After more testing, they deposit the panels on a piece of fabric.

A laser cuts the fabric around the panels.

Heated rollers bond the plastic panels to the fabric.

Now, an employee burns through clear plastic film to reach the conductive foil.

He solders wire to the foil at these points to connect the positive and negative leads.

The wire is flexible and will bend with the fabric when it's folded.

A seamstress now stitches strips of fabric over the wires, enclosing them in a protective pocket.

Another member of the team solders a connector to a circuit board that's been attached to protruding wires.

He squeezes silicone into a plastic cover and places it on the assembly.

The silicone solidifies around the components to protect them from water damage.

Finally, he rivets the cover to the fabric.

This foldable solar charger is ready to be bundled up and placed in a backpack.

It can power a laptop or a smartphone, keeping the user connected anywhere in the world.


Space Pens
Reef Aquariums
Metal Caskets
Composite Bike Wheels

The space pen can write in zero gravity, which is why astronauts have used it.

It also writes underwater, in extreme heat or cold, or when held upside down.

All this is possible due to the pen's ingenious design that keeps ink flowing toward the tip no matter what.

The space pen's ink is pressurized with nitrogen, so, unlike ordinary ballpoints, it doesn't rely on gravity to flow toward the tip.

Invented in 1966, the pen first went into space with the apollo 7 astronauts.

The pen's writing point starts out as an 3/10 of an inch long block of stainless steel.

It passes through more than a dozen machining operations that progressively shape a point, then bore a hole through the tip to form a pocket for the carbide steel ball.

That makes this a ballpoint.

The last station inserts the ball and curves the edges of the pocket inward so that the ball is locked in yet can rotate to spread ink.

The replaceable ink cartridge, called the refill, begins as an empty brass tube.

This assembly machine inserts a white plastic ball into the back end then pumps in half a gram of ink.

The white ball is called the float.

Its job is to follow the ink down the tube, moving residual ink forward toward the point.

Next, the machine inserts the writing point into the opposite end of the tube, then it crimps the end to ensure the writing point can't dislodge.

Back to the other end of the tube now.

The machine applies a bit of sealant...

Injects nitrogen to pressurize the refill, then caps the tube with a hollow brass plug.

Nitrogen is ideal for pressurizing because it's an inert gas that doesn't harm the refill tube or its contents.

This demonstration shows how the pressurized nitrogen forces the ink flow.

After subjecting each and every refill to a writing test and washing the surface to remove traces of machine lubricant and other residues, a printer applies the company name and product information on the refill.

Certain space pen models have a cap that fits over the writing point.

A feeder places a brass cap on each spoke of the cap assembly machine, which then pushes the cap into position to receive a clip.

The clip is stamped out of spring steel, a fairly flexible metal.

It's chrome-plated for corrosion resistance and aesthetics.

The machine drives the clip's teeth through the wall of the cap, then curls them back toward the inside of the wall, locking the clip in position.

To prepare the two-part brass body of the pen, a feeder drops the bottom part, called the barrel, onto each spoke of the barrel assembly machine.

To straighten the writing end, the machine inserts a brass reinforcement piece called the nose tip.

It then crimps the end, flaring the nose tip inside the barrel so that it becomes wider than the barrel opening and therefore can't slip out.

This model has a chrome-plated brass body and clipless cap.

To begin assembling the pen, workers place the barrel in a foam holder, insert a spring to keep the refill in position, then a threaded connector made of brass.

The barrel goes through a machine, which puts a silicone rubber o-ring on the top edge of the barrel.

And now the final assembly.

They place a refill in the barrel, insert the connector into the top half of the body, then, with an electric motor, thread the parts together.

After placing the cap open-side up in a foam holder, they insert the pen.

The o-ring holds the cap in place.

The original space pen, still in production, has a push button on top to push out the refill and another on the side to retract it.

This demonstration pen has a cutaway section to show the inner workings.

All space pen models can write underwater...

And in zero gravity.

They also work in freezing cold, intense heat, and upside down.

A reef aquarium takes underwater exploration to a whole new sea level.

It's a mini coral reef system re-created in a glass tank.

Installed in a home or business, a reef aquarium allows people to see life on the bottom of the sea without donning a wet suit and a snorkel.

A reef aquarium is a living, breathing, and growing ecosystem.

Along with tropical fish, it has spectacular coral and more low-profile organisms like crab, shrimp, and tiny aquatic creatures.

All these organisms act as a biological filtration system for the water in the tank.

They supplement the biological filtration system with mechanical and chemical ones.

The assembler starts with the pump that recirculates the water.

He installs it in a tank under the display tank.

This tank is known as the sump.

He places the protein skimmer in the sump beside the pump.

This unit injects air bubbles into the water to remove organic compounds before they decompose and become waste.

He adds a u.v. sterilizer.

It has a high-intensity light that will be activated when needed to kill free-floating bacteria, parasites, and algae.

Next, he introduces the media reactor.

This cylindrical device contains both activated carbon and an aluminum-based media.

These materials will absorb fish-waste by-products, thereby removing them from the water.

With the mechanical and chemical filters in place, he now moves on to the display tank.

He spreads real ocean sand on the bottom.

This sand will be a habitat for some of the bacteria and other organisms that will aid in the biological filtering process.

He selects rocks from a supply tank and transfers them to the aquarium.

The rocks are home to numerous algae, bacteria, and small invertebrates.

This makes them the central part of the aquarium's biological filtering system.

He now prepares the ocean potion, adding synthetic sea salt to water.

A pump circulates the water as the salt dissolves over a period of 24 hours.

He presses a switch, and the premix of water and salt flows into the tank.

This water now needs to mature.

It will take weeks for tiny aquatic creatures to begin to thrive in this water.

During this time, the filtering equipment in the pump below helps keep it clean.

The protein skimmer foams up as the water constantly circulates through it.

After about three weeks, there are enough microorganisms in the water.

It's ready for coral and fish.

These corals have been grown on an ocean farm and kept in this holding tank for this very moment.

Each coral is composed of tiny, fragile animals called coral polyps.

They are essentially little colonies.

As the aquarium technician makes his selections, he considers how the coral will adapt to light and water motion and how compatible the corals will be with one another.

Some corals are very territorial and may release toxins when they come into contact with other corals.

He leaves a lot of space between the corals to give them room to grow.

Allowed to thrive, some will triple in size.

He now introduces fish.

Clearly, this aquarium has all the comforts of home.

He installs a lighting system overhead that mimics ocean light at different times of day-- sunrise, daytime, and sunset.

For the creatures in this reef aquarium, light is a source of energy.

With the reef aquarium now complete, the monitoring begins.

He'll test the water chemistry regularly to ensure the right environment is being achieved.

The activity of the fish and coral will be under observation to confirm this mini-reef system is becoming a thriving marine community.

Only then will this reef aquarium be ready to go public.

So much more than a fishbowl, the reef aquarium brings the wonders of the ocean to the surface.

A central part of arranging a loved one's funeral is choosing a casket.

This is often an emotionally difficult decision, as it forces us to face the reality of the loss.

Caskets are most commonly made of either wood or metal and range in style from understated to ornate.

There are two styles of caskets.

Full-couch models have an undivided top to show the deceased from head to toe.

Perfection-cut models have a split-top to show the deceased only from the waist up.

This factory makes metal caskets constructed from sheets of steel.

To form the top, workers insert a sheet into a press.

A die inside draws the metal into a paneled shape.

This requires 900 tons of pulling force, the equivalent of hoisting 27 fully loaded tractor trailers.

After trimming the edges, workers insert the panel into an automated folding machine.

First, the machine bends both long sides upward-- two bends of 90 degrees each.

Second, it bends both short sides upward the same way.

Then, workers weld the corner seams.

They also assemble and weld the casket's side, end, and reinforce bottom panels.

These two were shaped in the press but with a different type of die, which stamps, rather than draws, the steel to the required shape.

For a perfection-cut casket, they saw the top in half, then weld steel to the cut end, forming a header to give it a neatly-finished look.

An automated belt grinds all the welds flat to create a smooth finish.

After a cleaning, all the parts travel through a booth inside which 20 automated spray guns coat them in powder paint.

An electrical charge draws the powder particles onto the steel, ensuring a thorough and even coat, which a giant oven then bakes for 20 minutes.

Once the surface cools, workers inspect the paint finish to make sure it's flawless.

Workers apply hot-melt glue on the inside, along where the bottom and sides meet.

This makes the body of the casket watertight.

And they conduct a water test to make sure.

The casket is lined with crepe, a synthetic fabric which is formable when you apply high heat.

This specially-designed machine heats the material with an iron as serrated wheels gather it into decorative pleats known as shirring.

The high heat forms the fabric to this shape permanently.

Sewers cut and sew the shirred fabric into lining components.

Meanwhile, workers mount the casket's steel hardware, either stationary handles or swing bar handles, which pivot.

They place a rubber gasket around the top edge to ensure a proper seal when the top is closed.

Then, they mount the top.

The gasket has holes for the steel hinges.

By this point, they've already attached most of the interior fabric over an inner lining of corrugated cardboard.

Now it's time to install the steel bed, using an expandable rod.

The bed's height is adjustable, enabling funeral directors to elevate the deceased for easier viewing.

A mattress pad and sheet go on the top of the bed.

Clips on each end hold them in place.

A pillow completes the interior.

Every casket undergoes a thorough final inspection, then it's shipped to the funeral home that ordered it.

The funeral home typically displays several sample pieces showing the range of styles, colors, hardware, and fabric options available for a loved one's casket.

In the cycling world, carbon composite wheels are the wheels of change.

They can weigh half the amount of traditional metal wheels, so the cyclists can pick up speed with less effort.

Carbon wheels also cost many times more than metal ones, so your wallet will also be more lightweight.

Flatter and thinner than metal ones, these high-tech carbon bike wheels are designed to take advantage of carbon fiber's unique characteristics and support the cyclist's weight efficiently.

They start by cutting carbon fiber into patterns.

These arcs are for half of a side wheel.

The technician layers them onto a band of fiberglass in a mold.

The fiberglass will provide a good breaking surface.

He drapes a piece of nonstick plastic film over the mold and adds a silicone pressure pad.

He stacks several carbon-filled sidewall molds, each with a silicone pad and plastic film.

He wraps a heater pad and a plastic vacuum bag around the stack and activates the vacuum.

It sucks out the air to pull the melting carbon fiber to the shape of the molds.

He adds an air bladder and metal plate.

This applies more pressure as the carbon fiber solidifies into a sidewall shape.

The next technician layers material for the wheel rims.

He inserts strips of carbon fiber into a long and narrow mold, pushing it into the crevasses with a teflon wheel.

He applies strips of carbon to the sides for reinforcement.

He adds a resin-based film adhesive followed by more carbon fiber.

Using a kind of wedge, he again puts on the pressure, causing the carbon fiber and film adhesive to stick together.

He transfers the long layers to a round mold.

As with the sidewalls, he heats the rims under pressure to set the shape.

He'll get five wheel rims out of this one tool.

The next technician shapes carbon-fiber layers around a metal shaft and flares them out to form the wheel's hub flanges.

She smoothes the creases, then prepares for the vacuum pressure curing, placing a piece of nonstick plastic and a silicone mandrel assembly on top.

She stacks the flanges and slides a tube around them.

She bolts on a lid.

Then it's into an oven to bake under pressure for about four hours.

This transforms each patchwork of carbon fiber into a solid, seamless bike wheel flange.

They'll now assemble the wheel.

The technician inserts flat carbon-fiber spokes into holes in one half of a sidewall.

Adhesive and carbon fiber will bond the spokes to the sidewall.

He places a carbon-fiber patch where the end of the spoke meets the sidewall and tapes it there.

With all the spokes in position, he lowers the lid and applies mechanical pressure.

The spokes bond to the sidewall, and it's ready for the rim.

With the help of a locating pin, the technician positions the rim on the sidewall.

He also uses this carbon-fiber ring as an alignment tool.

He places the other sidewall half, with spokes attached, on top.

The geometry is precise for maximum strength and resilience.

After another compressed bake, he applies adhesive to the ends of the spokes and attaches them to hub flanges.

He places a metal spacer between the two flanges for now and tapes the spokes to prevent adhesive from trickling down onto them during the heating process.

He adds a piece of release film and a silicone pressure pad.

He clips metal splints to the carbon-fiber spokes to support them through the cure.

And, with the spokes now pressure-bonded to the flanges, it's time for fine-tuning.

The technician locks the bike wheel in a fixture that stretches the spokes slightly.

This creates the necessary tension and rigidity.

Once he's satisfied with the tensioning, he applies resin adhesive through a hole in a hub flange.

Two hours in an oven sets the tensioning, and he removes the wheel from the fixture.

After cleaning and the application of graphics, the carbon-fiber bike wheel just needs a rubber tire, and it's ready to go for a spin.


Cast Iron Tubs
Hopi Kachina Dolls
Mine Truck Engine
Memory Cards

An 1880s invention, the cast-iron tub was first marketed in america as a horse trough and a hog scalder, which could also serve as a bathtub.

It was soon more popular in the bathroom than the barnyard.

It's heat-retaining properties made a long and luxurious soak possible.

The cast-iron tub is one invention that's got a lot of people in hot water, and that's what people like about it.

Today, they make cast-iron tubs from scrap metal-- things like old heating radiators, water pipes, manhole covers, and even some car parts.

Recycling scrap iron is more energy efficient and cheaper than mining it.

A powerful magnet at the end of a crane arm lifts the heavy iron from the scrap heap and transfers it to big trays known as charging pans.

The charging pans deliver the scrap to a center trough.

This trough is a scale.

It weighs the scrap and releases it to a conveyer.

The scrap heads into the bathtub factory.

Inside, it flows directly into an enormous electric induction furnace heated to more than 2,500° fahrenheit.

The scrap iron melts into a pool of liquid metal.

They run this furnace around the clock, and it's always two-thirds full so that newly-added scrap melts quickly.

Huge hydraulic cylinders tip the furnace forward.

The molten iron flows into a ladle.

An overhead trolley carries the ladle brimming with the hot liquid metal to a holding furnace which maintains its temperature until the next step.

They're now ready to make a two-part casting mold from sand using steel tub patterns.

To make one half of the mold, they fill a tub pattern with a mix of moist sand and clay.

Hydraulic rams pack it down, and the mix compacts and takes the shape of the pattern.

The clay is the bonding agent that causes the mix to hold the shape.

Once the rams retract, the mold takes a trip under some blades that scrape off the excess sand.

Machinery then lifts this half of the sand mold out of the steel pattern and transfers it to the other half of the mold prepared earlier.

The two bathtub molds now come together, leaving a small gap between them.

The molten iron, which has been transferred to an automatic pouring system, flows into portals in the top of the mold and into the gap at the center.

The bathtub molds then move to a cooling line, and after chilling here for about 20 minutes, the iron inside solidifies.

Then, it's into a shaker device that breaks apart the sand mold, revealing the newly cast iron bathtub.

A robot retrieves the bathtub and stacks it.

Next, an employee sprays specially-formulated glass powder onto the tub.

It's an undercoat for the enamel finish.

They bake the tub until it's red-hot.

In the heat, the glass powder melts and adheres to the iron tub.

A hydraulic device called a manipulator sets the tub on a pedestal.

The pedestal swivels as they apply two more ground-glass layers.

These are the enamel topcoats.

On contact, the glass mixture melts onto the undercoat.

The layers of glass form a permanent bond with the iron casting.

Between coats, the tub cools, and they send it back into the furnace for a reheat.

They place a mask in the base of the enamel tub.

The mask is like a stencil.

A robot blasts fine alumina-oxide particles into the open areas of the mask.

This etches an abrasive finish, leaving a subtle pattern on the surface of the bathtub.

It creates visual interest and also provides a non-slip surface.

The masks come in a variety of patterns for different looks.

Whether it's a modern design or the traditional claw-foot one, these cast-iron tubs should have no problem finding a home.

The hopi, a native american tribe living primarily in northeastern arizona, are known for carving kachinas, wooden dolls representing deities, elements in nature, or the spirits of ancestors.

They are traditionally presented in a dance ceremony to the girls of the community.

Hopi kachina dolls are cherished family keepsakes designed to teach hopi children about the deities and spirits central to their aboriginal traditions.

Besides ceremonial purposes, many hopi carvers produce kachina dolls for sale to native art enthusiasts.

The carver uses knives of different sizes, sharpening the steel blades after every 10 or 15 minutes to prevent dulling.

Kachina dolls are traditionally made of cottonwood-- not from the tree's branch, but from its root.

The carver begins by shaving off the thin outer bark.

With a straight cut from one side to the other, he shapes a bit of the single feather which will adorn the top of this doll's head.

He makes a series of vertical cuts to form the face and hairline.

He continues carving the head form, then, with a wood-burning tool, burns in the square outline of the face.

Now he shaves away wood above and below to make the face protrude.

He forms the face in more detail...

Then picks up the wood-burning tool again, this time to delineate the neckline...

And the doll's robe.

Back to carving.

Now, with upward strokes, he shaves off wood to shape the neckline.

He takes a larger knife and removes bigger pieces of wood to finish forming the head feather.

Now he sands the wood with progressively finer sandpapers to remove all the cut marks left by his knives and to refine the doll's shape.

With the doll perfectly formed now, it's time for the details and decorations.

First, he sketches it all out in pencil...

Then runs the wood-burning tool along the lines.

He decorates the body, then moves on to the doll's hair and facial features.

It's these details that bring the doll alive.

What was a simple and ordinary cottonwood tree root has gone through carving, sanding, and burning to become an almost-finished kachina doll.

He now coats the entire surface with clear varnish.

This seals the wood to prevent it from absorbing the paint he applies next.

About 40 minutes later, the varnish is dry and the painting can begin.

Traditionally, hopi carvers made paint from natural pigments such as sand, plants, and berries.

Today's carvers buy ready-made oils or acrylics.

This carver dilutes acrylic paint with water to make it transparent.

This allows the natural beauty of the wood grain to show through the color.

After painting, he applies a coat of clear varnish to seal and protect the surface.

Some carvers have moved in a new artistic direction-- bronze.

They use their wooden kachina doll to produce a latex mold.

Then, with this mold, cast a wax replica.

They dip the replica in a substance that hardens into a heat-resistant shell.

Then, they put the shell in a furnace to melt away the wax.

This leaves a cavity in the shape of the doll.

They poor molten bronze into the cavity, and when the bronze cools and solidifies, they break the shell to extract a bronze version of their kachina doll.

Instead of paints, they apply chemicals that color the metal-- a modern twist on an age-old hopi art.

A mine-truck engine is a beast.

The most powerful ones pack a brawny 24 cylinders, generating 4,200 horsepower.

Compare that to 200 horsepower for a mid-sized car with six cylinders.

But when they start to show the strain, it's time for a total rebuild.

After about 20,000 hours of hauling heavy rock, it's time for renewal.

Mine-truck engines are routinely rebuilt-- not just once, but numerous times.

It's cheaper than buying a new engine, and it saves precious resources.

Each rebuild is a massive undertaking-- virtually every component of this diesel engine will be remanufactured or replaced.

As the team dismantles it, they inspect each part for wear and tear.

They take it down to the immense crankshaft, the heart of this mine-truck engine.

With the crankshaft removed, they pull the lengthy camshaft out of the cylinder block.

With the engine now in pieces, they clean every part that's salvageable, including the huge cylinder block.

A couple of hours soaking in a hot sodium-phosphate solution removes the grease and exposes the bare metal.

Any imperfections are now more apparent.

Using a depth gauge, a technician maps out flaws, like this crack.

It will need to be filled, and he makes a note of it.

Next, a high-speed milling tool carves off a thin layer of the steel, taking the cylinder block's finish from grimy-gray to bright and shiny.

It also smoothes away any unevenness to create a uniform surface for sealing gaskets around the cylinders later.

After the intensive machining, the cylinder block looks like new.

It's back to the crankshaft now.

It, too, has undergone an extensive cleaning.

Machinery grinds the outside diameter to a precise tolerance-- equivalent to one-twentieth of a human hair.

This will allow new, thicker bearings to fit to it.

The team clamps weights to the machine crankshaft.

These weights mimic the load of engine parts, like pistons and rods, as they now balance this critical part.

The crankshaft rotates, and sensors detect vibrations and pinpoint the problem.

After more grinding in these locations, they test it again to confirm the crankshaft is balanced.

Back to the camshaft now-- a member of the crew uses a black marker to highlight wear patterns.

A grinder evens out the wear, and it also machines the profile of each lobe as it follows a metal camshaft master.

The black-marker lines vanish as the wear lines are smoothed, and the profile of the camshaft is improved.

A major clean-up also transforms the rods that connect the piston to the crankshaft.

A technician then places the rod in a special honing machine and activates it.

Four arms with gritty ends grind the inside of the rod-head as the technician moves the rod back and forth.

This sizes the inner diameter to enable the rod to fit to the other revamped parts.

Once all the parts have been cleaned and machined, the engine is ready for reassembly.

Using a crane, a technician lowers the crankshaft back into the cylinder block.

He secures the crankshaft at one end with a metal bracket called a main cap.

There are actually nine main caps in total.

He gives the crankshaft a spin to confirm that it rotates freely before installing the rest.

With a piston now attached to one end of a connecting rod, he slides the other end into a slot in the cylinder block.

This particular engine is a 16-cylinder one.

It's considered midsize for mining trucks.

Once the gaskets have been fixed to the cylinder block, they bolt the cylinder heads to it.

There are hundreds of parts in one of these monster engines, and it takes 700 person hours for one rebuild.

With this mine-truck engine now fully assembled, they hook it up to a dynamometer to measure engine performance.

They run at full tilt to confirm that it's firing all cylinders and performing to the max.

This rebuilt mine-truck engine is ready to go back into service.

Strong and heavily built, this nine-ton diesel engine should pull its own weight and then some.

Music, photographs, documents-- what used to take up shelf space in our homes offices can now be stored on a tiny memory card or flash drive.

You can save your files on it, take them out of the device and transport them anywhere, as well as delete data you no longer need.

A memory card fits into a slot in your digital device.

A flash drive plugs into a usb port.

The key component of both formats-- a memory chip, produced in a factory that's 1,000 times cleaner than a hospital operating room.

It all begins with the wafer--  a thin disc of pure silicon, a non-metallic natural element that conducts electricity.

An automated container system moves the wafer through more than 800 operations.

At each stop, the wafer receives one of several layers of non-conductive materials, such as silicon dioxide, and conductive materials, such as copper.

The machines coat the layer with light-sensitive fluid, then apply uv light through a glass stencil of the complex pattern of electrical circuitry.

The exposed areas of fluid chemically react, locking the material directly underneath into the circuitry pattern.

Chemical baths then remove the surrounding fluid and material, leaving only the layer of circuitry, electrical pathways 2,000 times narrower than a human hair.

A robot tests the circuitry for every memory chip on the wafer.

A single wafer, measuring 12 inches in diameter, yields hundreds of memory chips.

The goal is to make those chips as small as possible.

In this industry, it's all about maximum memory in minimal space.

That's why this operation thins the chips by grinding away two-thirds of the silicon from the backside of the wafer.

And one last step before cutting the wafer into individual memory chips-- this machine applies tape to hold the separated chips together.

A computer-guided saw slices the chips apart.

Cutting silicon is like cutting glass-- it requires a diamond-edge blade.

In the next step, a robotic arm, following the wafer map generated earlier, picks up the chips which pass testing and attaches each one to a fiberglass lead frame.

The term lead refers to the frame's pins, which connect the chip to the digital device.

Another robot wires the chip to the lead frame with gold thread that's about the width of a human hair.

Gold is very conductive, so now the pathway is complete.

Electricity will travel from the chip's circuitry, through the gold thread, to the pins, to the device.

After a machine seals the chip in plastic, workers gently snap them apart and insert them in memory-card housings.

The plastic and metal housing is for a memory card format known as compact flash.

A small, automated press locks the two halves of the housing together.

The next station labels the front of the housing.

Every single memory card undergoes testing for both function and speed.

A laser machine etches product information into the back of the housing.

These are another format called secure digital, or sd.

They're assembled and labeled just like the compact flashcards.

When the finished memory cards come off the assembly line, workers conduct a final, visual inspection.

On the flash drive assembly line, much the same process.

A robot puts 20 lead frames on 20 circuit boards.

Then, a worker positions 20 usb connectors, which a soldering machine bonds to the circuit boards.

The final step--  electronic testing, to make sure the usb connection is working, and via the circuit board, talking to the chip.

The flash drives are now ready to go into individual housings.

This model has a two-part plastic housing, which pivots in and out of a plastic case, that can conveniently be attached to a key chain or a lanyard for easy portability.

Flash drive or memory card, storing your digital effects is just a click away.


Today on "how it's made"...

Copy paper-- we'll check it out again and again and again...

Jeans-- stay tuned for a "denim-stration"...

.computers--  here's some hard data for you...

And plate glass-- we promise you full transparency in this report.

Computers were supposed to send paper back to the stone age-- no more letters, just e-mails.

Goodbye, typewritten reports.

Hello, floppy disks.

Well, those predictions were wrong.

Photocopiers and printers have us using more paper than ever before.

Paper production begins with the arrival of wood at the mill.

Paper is made from a paste produced from a mix of 65% maple, 25% birch, and 10% poplar.

They require two tons of wood to produce one ton of paste.

Everything starts from this debarking drum, which removes bark from the logs.

It's about a 20-minute operation.

The bark will be burned to produce steam, for the operation of the mill.

The debarked logs are transported on this conveyor.

All is controlled by an operator.

Now the logs are reduced into small pieces called kindling.

They're accumulated into a pile and remain outdoors winter and summer.

The kindling looks like this.

These 5 piles total about 30,000 tons of kindling.

Next step-- reduce the kindling into a paste.

They begin by washing it.

This screen verifies that the washer is properly loaded.

Then comes alkaline cooking.

This diagram controls its operation.

This huge cylinder is the washer, in which the kindling is cooked for several hours at a temperature of 315 degrees.

And this is the recuperation boiler.

It burns wood lignite at 1,800 degrees.

Certain chemical products, which come out fused as lava, are recuperated.

This black lacquer, a reside of burned wood, will be burned to produce steam.

Exiting the washer, the brown paste is washed and sent to the thickener.

With this spatula, they verify the quality of the brown-paste washing.

The paste must be bleached.

This alkaline-extraction tower places the brown paste in contact with chemical products.

It's bleached with chlorine dioxide and gradually becomes more white.

Then the water is partially drawn off.

Water is extracted with this equipment, the beloit bel baie iii paper machine, operating at a speed of 3,500 feet a minute.

Between the entry and the exit, the concentration of water in the paste falls from 95% to 5%.

Here we see the sheet of paper coming out of the presses.

Then analyzers verify the quality parameters of the paper and signal any anomaly.

The paper is then rolled up.

This roller produces enormous main spools.

With this transfer arm, they change a full spool for an empty one.

A roll weighs over 35 tons and contains over 37 miles of paper.

The spooler cuts the main spools into smaller, less wide rolls.

Some will be delivered as is, while other will be shipped to paper cutters.

Rolls are sent to an automated warehouse.

In the warehouse, they store rolls that will be cut later.

Robots, guided on rails in the floor, feed the bielomatik paper cutter.

This is the one that produces copy paper.

Robots are controlled by a central computer directed by operators.

Production reaches 55,000 sheets per minute.

We see here the transfer section of the cutter.

Four automatic catchers and operators verify paper quality before packaging.

In one hour, this mill produces 6,600 packages of copy paper.

A single log allowed for the production of at least 15 of those packages.

Jeans might be the world's greatest rags-to-riches story.

When they were first invented, nobody would be caught dead in them, except for factory workers, farmers, and tradesmen.

Yet, today, they're one of the most popular clothing items in the world-- quite a fashion statement.

Jeans are made from a highly rugged cotton called denim.

This enormous roll contains 1,500 feet of fabric, from which they will produce 350 pairs of jeans.

Several thicknesses of the material are unrolled on this long table.

This knife can cut up to 100 thicknesses of the material at a time.

By multiplying the thicknesses, they produce a whole pile of pieces with one cut.

They shape the denim pieces following the cutting patterns.

Each piece of the jeans has its own cutting pattern.

The little pieces of fabric are cut with a clicker, also known as the stamper, which cuts out pockets with a cutting mold.

Exerting 1,500 pounds of pressure, it can cut 20 pockets at a time.

They begin sewing.

Jeans are sewn with 100%-cotton thread.

This needle pierces the fabric 4,000 times a minute.

Designs are embroidered on the pockets with this machine.

Its needles move at 2,500 strokes per minute.

This pocket robot will simultaneously fold, press, and sew a pocket.

This machine allows for the installation of 75 pockets in 60 minutes.

The pocket is now sewn into place.

Next step-- the buttonhole.

This machine sews the contours of the buttonhole and a steel blade comes down to cut the opening.

The closing button is positioned.

This machine is used to make the loops, which will hold the belt in place.

The loops are sewn, as usual, with cotton thread.

At this stage, they assemble the different pieces of the jeans.

This operator joins the two pieces of denim at the crotch.

Then she sews it.

Then they sew the exterior of the leg.

This sewing is done flat, with an overcaster, which cuts excess material proportionately and to size.

Now for the zipper.

This machine installs the zipper holdfast and the slide.

The zipper is sewn into its position.

The final sewing step consists of installing the jeans belt, a strip of fabric.

This operation requires only a few seconds.

The jeans were made up on the reverse side, so that all stitches would be on the inside when the jeans are worn.

The pant is then turned right side out with this turner, which has 100-pound suction power.

All that now remains is to steam-press the jeans.

This operation lasts only 20 seconds and eliminates any pleats.

This company makes 1,500 jeans every day.

Producing a pair of jeans will have taken 12 minutes and 50 seconds of work and will have required between 3.6 and 3.9 feet of fabric.

Just 30 years ago, nobody could have told you what this object was, let alone the kind of wonders you could work with it.

Well, times change, and today, it's hard to imagine a single modern home or office without at least one of these revolutionary devices.

It takes about 90 minutes to assemble a computer.

Its hard-disk drive saves information transmitted to it for a long time.

The reading head reads the information.

It is extremely precise.

The space between the reading head and the hard disk is as thin as a hair.

The hard disk is installed in its position within the computer.

There are two other units which safeguard information-- the removable 3-inch-disk reader, and the cd-rom reader, which allows for the reading and execution of programs recorded on compact discs.

These two units are placed into position.

The spinal column of the computer is the motherboard.

It is to this unit that the other elements of the computer are connected.

This cooler dissipates the heat generated by the chip set.

Certain sound cards are integrated directly on the motherboard.

These connections, in sequence, are the audio input, its output, and the microphone port.

This agp retaining ring secures the video card during transport.

This thermal unit measures the temperature emitted between the processor and the motherboard.

The processor is the brain of the system.

It interprets, calculates, and executes the instructions given to it.

The processor has several million transistors.

And its cadence, its operating speed, reaches the gigahertz level.

The processor rests on this base.

The processor's cooler dissipates the intense heat.

Its efficiency depends on the type of material used, and a conducting material assures better cooling.

The r.a.m. memory stores short-term information, but erases it when the current is turned off.

This memory is more rapid than that of the hard disk or cd-rom.

Now they integrate everything in the case.

It protects the internal elements from the external elements.

At this stage, they install the electronic components in this case.

Several connectors of the case are connected to the motherboard, such as the computator and various light indicators.

This is the output connection for the video card, which links the computer to the monitor.

We also see the video chip, which creates images in 2 and 3 dimensions.

Here is the video memory.

The more its capacity is increased, the clearer will be the image displayed on the monitor.

The video card is placed into its position.

The modem allows two computers to communicate.

Its capacitors produce the perfectly clean phone signal to facilitate communications.

These modem chip connectors control information circulating between the two computers.

The fax modem is installed.

The power supply transforms electricity according to the voltage required by the different components.

The computer's internal cabling is installed.

It allows information to travel between the different media and the motherboard.

The i.d.e. cable is connected and the cd-rom.

The last electrical wires are connected to different computer components.

The assembly of 30 components of the computer is now finished.

Just before closing the case, they test each computer to verify the good functioning of the peripherals.

Then they close up and proceed to packaging.

This company produces about 300 computer units every day.

No need to adjust your set.

What you're looking at is supposed to be hard to see.

Here at "how it's made," our job is to explore the everyday things around us and how they came to be.

So let's start by making one thing perfectly clear-- manufacturing plate glass is anything but simple.

We can speak of the use of glass since the time of the egyptians 4,000 years ago.

It wasn't used in construction, though, but merely to enclose small objects.

Later, the romans became masters of glassmaking, with their methods being used up until the 18th century.

By the end of the 19th century, glass was no longer just a luxury item, but became a construction material as common as steel and concrete.

Plate glass is made from several raw materials mixed with a little water.

These materials are silica sand...

Soda ash...

Dolomite...

Limestone...

Nepheline syenite...

And salt cake.

It begins by dumping into a hopper pieces of recycled glass together with the raw materials.

It will all be melted.

In a continuous stream, the mixed materials go into a gas-fed furnace.

Temperature inside the furnace is 2,700 degrees.

It contains 1,500 tons of molten glass.

They use 500 tons of it every day.

In this regenerating chamber, combustion air is preheated to 1,800 degrees.

The materials of the mix begin fusing, and the molten glass is stirred up.

The homogenizer mixes the glass to equalize its temperature.

Pouring will be done within several hours.

In the glass industry, they call this machine the top roller.

The glass is poured onto a bath of liquid tin, on which it floats.

As soft as toffee, it is molded into a ribbon.

All equipment in the tin bath is cooled with water so that it won't break from the heat.

Coming out of the bath, the glass is at 600 degrees.

The glass must again be cooled, and this unit is used to do that.

This huge ribbon of glass is 11 feet in width.

The ribbon of glass rolls gently on rollers, gradually cooling along the way.

The glass is still soft.

The marks we see are imprints from the top roller.

The glass must have a uniform thickness.

This laser scanner measures its thickness to within a hundredth of a millimeter.

The glass is now fairly hard.

They proceed to cutting it.

This ultrahard tungsten-carbide roller makes a longitudinal score before the glass can be cut.

Now they proceed with transverse scoring, made according to the dimensions customers have asked for.

The scored glass separates easily.

The glass strips are separated and continue along the conveyor.

These roller breakers cut the edges of the glass sheet.

Leftover pieces fall to the ground and into a chute.

They will later be recycled.

These rubber-covered rollers move the glass sheets to the inspection department.

When they arrive for inspection, these immense glass sheets are handled with great care and are positioned upright.

The glass is inspected for faults with florescent lamps.

Once inspected, the glass sheets are handled one at a time and stored vertically.

Making the glass took several days of work.

It is now ready for delivery.

Heat fusion has transformed solid ingredients into transparent glass.


Custom Steering Wheels
Aerospace Fuel Lines
Apple Pies
Household Radiators

What do you do when you're the proud owner of an ultra-luxurious vintage automobile that has an original steering wheel that's several miles short of being as elegant as the car?

You order yourself a handsome custom-made steering wheel designer to match the vehicle's deluxe interior.

From the plain, original steering wheel to a deluxe edition befitting a vintage automobile, custom-matched to its woodwork and leather interior.

They start by skinning the original wheel, a steel ring covered in black plastic with some leather trim.

After slicing and chiseling off the covering, they file the ring clean because they'll be reusing it for the new wheel.

However, they'll encase it within two plywood rings to beef up the width and thickness and to create a substrate on which to glue the wood veneer.

Using a jigsaw and bandsaw, they cut a front ring and a back ring out of european birch plywood.

Then they mill the profile, including a groove inside for the metal ring.

Once the shape is finalized, they sand the surface smooth to prep it to receive the wood veneer.

Veneer is made from a piece of wood sliced into ultra-thin sheets called leaves.

For each steering wheel, they take four consecutively cut leaves so that their wood-grain pattern is nearly identical.

For each plywood ring, they take two of those leaves and tape them mirror-image to each other.

They insert adhesive where the taped edges meet and let it dry overnight.

Then they lay the ring pattern onto the veneer, trace, and cut out the shape.

Next, they notch the veneer ring so that it can fold over the ring's edges.

After coating the plywood ring with glue, they center the veneer and tape down the edges.

Next, they add a layer of protective plastic followed by rubber cushioning.

These will protect the veneer surface in the next machine-- a vacuum press.

Powerful suction draws the bag tightly around the materials.

This locks the veneer onto the plywood substrate, forcing out any air in between them which would hinder full adhesion.

Each plywood ring is now veneered and ready to encase the metal ring of the original steering wheel.

The workers apply glue to the underside of both rings, into the groove.

Then they assemble the two veneered rings over the metal one.

They set clamps all around and leave the glue to dry overnight.

The next day, they remove the clamps and put the steering wheel in an oven for about eight hours to cure the glue.

Once the steering wheel cools, they file away excess glue that seeped out the seam, then sand the entire surface silky smooth.

They protect the delicate veneer with eight coats of resin, cured in the oven for optimal durability.

They then polish the surface with a series of compounds to produce a glossy finish which highlights the richness of the wood grain.

The perimeter of the steering wheel now completed, they cover the spokes and hub with fine leather, first gluing the pieces...

Then hand-stitching them.

They put back the original steering wheel's hub, which they had removed before the makeover.

Then the finishing touch--  a veneered horn button.

After all, when you're driving a luxury car, you might just want to toot your own horn.

Be they airplanes, satellites, or rockets, aerospace vehicles all have one thing in common besides their capacity to fly.

Their internal construction includes several assemblies of tubes and ducts through which materials such as fuel, air, oil, and hydraulic fluid move.

Aerospace tube-and-duct assemblies are typically made of highly durable, lightweight materials, such as aluminum and titanium.

The choice of material depends on the application, for example, whether the finished component must be able to resist high heat or withstand high pressure.

These aluminum tubes are on their way to becoming a fuel line for a boeing 737.

The operator immobilizes a tube with clamps, then saws it to the length required.

This leaves burrs--  sharp shards-- on the cut edge, so they insert the tube into a deburring machine.

Here's what the tube looks like before deburring and after.

They squirt some lubricant inside, then slide the tube onto the mandrill of a computer-guided bender.

As the machine forms the tube to the required shape, the mandrill provides counter-pressure, preventing the tube walls from collapsing inward.

They'll repeat this process with all the tubes which make up the fuel-line assembly.

They clamp each part into a fixture, then pass a laser-measuring device over it.

With utmost precision, the laser analyses the dimensions from five different angles to ensure the part meets technical specifications.

Next, workers submerge the part in hot water and cleaning solution, then rinse twice.

This washes away the lubricant and any dirt.

Now the high-tech precision work can begin.

A robotic laser-cutting system finalizes the shape and cuts all the required holes and slots.

Just a bit of pressure, and the cut pieces easily pop out.

Meanwhile, a stereolithography machine makes the fixtures, which will position the various parts of the fuel line together for welding.

A computer-guided laser beam repeatedly flashes the shape of the fixtures onto liquid ceramic.

Each flash solidifies a 250th-of-an-inch-thick layer of the liquid.

Thousands of hardened layers later, the weld fixtures are fully formed.

Welders use these ceramic fixtures to correctly assembly the connecting fuel-line components.

Once everything's precisely in position, the welding begins.

For aircraft safety, it's critical that every fuel line be leak-free.

To test for leaks, they fill it with nitrogen at high pressure, submerge it in a water tank, then watch closely for bubbles, which would indicate nitrogen escaping.

They use nitrogen rather than air because its molecules are smaller, making it possible to detect smaller leaks.

After this, they heat-treat the fuel line to harden the metal and apply an anti-corrosion coating.

They wrap the fuel line with high-heat-resistant foam insulation secured with high-heat-resistant polyester tape.

This insulation prevents fuel from freezing in cold temperatures.

It also blocks heat coming from other components of the aircraft, keeping the fuel at a safe working temperature.

After a final inspection, the fuel line is ready to be shipped to the customer.

It leaves the factory with a few un-insulated spaces for installation clamps.

These areas will get insulated after the fuel line is mounted in the aircraft.

The apple pie is a mouth-watering treat.

This pie's popularity has been centuries in the making.

It dates back to the 14th century, when countries like england, denmark, and sweden developed slightly different versions, all leaving fans hungry for more.

Today, apple pie is mass-produced to meet demand.

So you can throw away your rolling pin and let the folks at the factory do all the work.

To make the filling, they empty loads of apple slices into a huge steam-heated kettle.

These apples are a firm and tart type and have been organically grown.

They add honey and apple juice, and the apple slices simmer in the liquids while mixing blades gently blend the ingredients.

And with the slices now partially cooked, they spice up the mix with a generous dash of cinnamon.

To thicken it to a syrupy sweetness, they add tapioca flour.

The blades fold the dry ingredients into the mix as the apple slices continue to cook.

The fruit softens and releases juices.

The liquids thicken to a syrupy consistency.

When the apple slices are lightly browned, this filling mix is done.

These browned and syrupy slices are now prepared and ready for the pastry shell.

The shell starts with chilled premium-grade butter.

It's the creamiest.

Organic and 100% whole-wheat flour is the next ingredient in this high-fiber pastry recipe.

They pour a measured amount of honey into the pastry mix to sweeten it.

They add ice-cold water.

It's cold to keep the butter from melting too quickly, and that means the crust will turn out flaky.

Inside the pastry mixer, a dough hook blends and kneads the ingredients until they congeal into dough.

The dough is moist, but not too wet and sticky.

Inside an apparatus called a sheeter, a mechanized roller presses the dough into sheets.

A worker drapes a sheet of dough over groupings of four paper pie plates, which then move forward on a carousel.

Meanwhile, overhead, that syrupy apple filling funnels into a device called a depositor.

The depositor pumps the filling into the uncooked pie crusts as they circle around on the loop conveyor.

This automated system fills every second grouping of crusts right on cue.

Now full of sweet fruit, a worker tops them with more dough, giving the pies the upper crust.

Like a big, revolving cookie-cutter, a rolling die punch-cuts the dough around the pie plates, separating them, trimming and crimping the edges all in one action.

Pedestal lifts hoist the pies, and a worker transfers them to the next conveyor.

They finish one group of pies and then start another, for a continuous cycle of pie production.

The pies now head into the baking zone.

Here, workers arrange the pies on baking sheets.

They slice holes in the top crusts to vent steam and prevent fruit juices from overflowing.

They stack the pie-laden baking sheets on racks in a convection oven.

The racks spin for a more even baking job.

They send one apple pie from each batch to the quality assurance department.

Here, the inspector takes in the aromas from the freshly baked pie.

She examines its form and compares it to an existing perfect pie.

Slicing it confirms that the crust is flaky.

But does it have that melt-in-your-mouth flavor?

There's only one way to verify that.

If the quality assurance people approve the pie, then the whole batch moves forward.

They flash-freeze the pies, then seal them in cellophane.

Suctioning arms open cardboard containers, and a worker slides in the pies.

Rollers close the pre-glued flaps.

They produce more than 2,100 apple pies every hour at this factory.

Once the job is done, there are big decisions to be made-- like one scoop or two?

One slice or the whole pie?

Perhaps it's best just to dig in and decide later.

Invented in 19th century america, the radiator brought warmth to people's lives.

It made central heating possible.

Before that, several fireplaces and stoves were needed to warm a home.

But with a radiator in every room, one boiler could heat an entire house.

While the traditional cast-iron radiator is still a source of warmth, it now competes with modern steel versions.

These steel radiators are lighter and heat a room faster.

They also come in a range of styles and can make a colorful design statement.

Production begins with a series of powerful punch presses.

They punch holes in steel plates, and they shape the parts by pressing the metal onto dies.

These punched and pressed parts are called half pieces.

They'll be used to make radiator headers, the connector part that interlinks the tubular heating elements.

The half pieces exit the punch-press station and slide into the clutch of a robotic device.

It brings two half pieces together in perfect alignment and delivers them to an automated welder, which joins them at the seam.

The process is usually shielded by a protective cover, but it's been lifted to allow our camera to video it.

Next, a press pares down the bulging seam.

This is called deburring.

With perfect timing, a robot then moves in and transfers the assembly to a grinding station.

Here, it rotates between two sanding belts to smooth the seam to a flawless finish.

A circular saw spins towards the part and slices it in the center to create two radiator headers.

These radiator headers are now complete.

A gripper with rounded claws transfers six steel tubes to a welder.

The welder fuses the tubes to the headers, and while the welding is being done, another feeder robot ensures a steady supply of headers.

There's one header for two tubes, so three radiator modules are coming together simultaneously.

Sharp, pinscher-like knives sheer down the protruding welds so they're flush to the rest of the parts.

The welded modules then chaff against two grinding belts.

The process smoothes the seams substantially.

But this grinding misses the spaces between the steel tubes, so a smaller sander tucks into that location, making the weld smooth all the way around.

Now a test.

They immerse a four-element module in water and pump air into it.

No bubbles in the water mean no leaks, and production continues.

They now build the radiator section by section.

They layer the modules and weld them together at the headers.

This sectional approach allows them to assemble radiators of virtually any size.

Each radiator is custom-ordered to fit into a specific space and to meet a specific heating need.

Of course, the larger the radiator, the more heat it delivers.

Here's an inside look at a steel radiator header.

With the radiator now complete, they repeat the test done earlier and confirm that it's completely leak-proof.

They now run an electrical charge through the radiator, as they immerse it in a primer.

The charge causes the primer to cling to the metal.

Once baked on, it will protect it from corrosion.

This household radiator is ready for a coat of paint.

The customer selects the color beforehand to suit the home's interior design and his personal taste.

They bake on the finish, and once it cools, they wrap up the job.

These radiators are now homeward bound.

Fueled by a furnace, hot water will move through them in a continuous loop, and they'll exude warmth.

That's why the radiator continues to be a nice thing to come home to.


It used to be that you stuffed and mounted that big catch.

Nowadays, catch-and-release is the norm, so the trend is to display replicas of the prize fish you caught, photographed, then set free.

It's more humane, and you get to brag about the one that didn't get away until you let it.

Sports fishermen aren't the only buyers of fish replicas.

Marinas, seaquariums, and seafood restaurants also acquire them for display.

While a replica is a humane alternative to mounting the real thing, one real fish does have to sacrifice his life for the cause in order to make the mold from which the replicas are cast.

The first step is to surround the dead fish in a mix of soil and dirt.

To construct the first half of the mold, the artist builds the mix-up to the halfway point, then rinses the surface clean.

Next, using molding plaster, he forms a ledge all around the fish and under the fins.

He positions six to eight tabs that will help align the two mold halves.

Once the plaster hardens, he pins the fins steady and pours on gelcoat resin.

This material picks up the scales and other intricate details.

Once the gelcoat cures, he removes the pins, then covers the surface in fiberglass resin and over that, shredded fiberglass cloth.

Then he applies another coat of fiberglass resin, ensuring the cloth is thoroughly saturated.

Once the resin hardens, he flips the fish to the other side...

Breaks off the plaster, and repeats all the previous steps to construct the second half of the mold.

After about four hours of labor, the mold is finally finished.

The mold maker removes the fish and washes the now vacant cavity.

Now the team can begin casting the replicas.

They wax the cavity to prevent sticking.

Then they apply white gelcoat resin, which picks up all the fine details.

With a handheld chopping gun, they lay down a layer of shredded fiberglass cloth.

They apply resin putty along the perimeter of the cavity on each mold half.

Using the alignment tabs, they close and clamp the mold halves together.

Once the putty sets, they remove the clamps, open the mold, and extract the fiberglass replica.

Using a jigsaw, they cut out the fish's mouth.

Then via the mouth, they fill the hollow interior with expanding polyurethane foam.

The hard foam provides a solid base against which to sculpt the fish's mouth and set its eyes, fins, and gill.

With a jigsaw again, they remove all the excess foam...

Then, with a disk sander, sand the rough edges smooth.

Next, they glue a glass eye on each side of the head and, using resin putty, set the side and bottom fins, which they had removed at one point and molded separately.

They epoxy teeth into the mouth.

The mold maker used the real fish teeth to make a rubber mold.

Then, using that mold, he cast this replica set of teeth in plastic.

Now they'll bring the fish to life with color.

First, using a paint gun, they apply a coat of gray primer.

Once that dries, they apply a white base coat, followed by a coat of silver.

With an airbrush, an artist paints the subtle shades and markings that make this fake fish look so incredibly real.

The finishing touch-- they paint a piece of cardboard red, cut it into the shape of a gill, then glue it in place.

After 45 hours of casting and painting, this prized catch is ready for display.

Siren systems were first widely used during world war ii to warn of possible air attacks.

Early on, that wailing effect was generated by forcing air against a perforated disk.

Today's siren sounds emanate from higher-tech systems and still mean trouble is on its way.

from atop towers and buildings, siren systems warn surrounding communities of impending tornadoes, floods, or any calamity.

Today's sirens can broadcast both warning tones and live voice messages.

They can also be activated by remote control from anywhere in the world.

The messages and warning tones from a typical system can be heard from almost half a mile away.

production begins with the transformers for the amplifiers.

A worker winds thick, insulated copper wires around a plastic bobbin to produce the transformer's primary coil.

She compresses the wires to eliminate gaps.

A tight winding is critical for generating a magnetic field and transferring it to a secondary coil.

She wraps insulating tape around the primary coil.

She winds thin wire over it to produce the narrower secondary coil, and she encases that in more insulating tape.

Next, with swift dexterity, an employee stacks e-shaped iron insulators in the center of the bobbin to build a core.

She inserts smaller iron insulators between the e-shaped ones, and this tightens up the pack.

She taps them into place and now has a dense iron core that will aid the flow of energy between the transformer coils.

With an enamel coating baked on and the assembly wired for sound, this siren transformer is now complete.

A computer-operated machine now punch-cuts assembly holes in an aluminum panel that will be used for a section of the siren cabinet.

A robot transfers the panel to a computerized bending machine.

Another robot feeds the panel to a clamping bar and, using hydraulic might, bends it against the clamp in strategic locations.

This transforms it into a section of the siren's back and sidewalls.

It also folds the edges, creating flanges for the cabinet-door assembly.

This computerized system takes less than a minute to complete all these folds.

The robot then transfers the siren-cabinet part to a conveyor, and it's on to the next station for assembly.

Ahead, some cabinet brackets are in the wash zone.

As the parts travel through, they get a soapy spray and then a rinse.

After drying, the parts head into a powder-paint booth.

Sprayers apply dry powder paint to the surface of the parts.

It takes eight automated guns and two manually operated ones to evenly coat these brackets.

The paint is electrostatically charged to cling to the metal, but at this point can be rubbed off like dust.

Baking it causes the particles to melt and bond to the surface for a smooth and very tough paint job.

This worker now installs the siren system's control board.

It regulates the siren's six tones, 16 prerecorded messages, and the public-address function.

He bolts it to the inside of the cabinet door.

Next up is an amplifier equipped with the transformer we saw assembled earlier and the amplifier board.

He installs the completed amplifier in the cabinet and connects it to the control board.

There are five amplifiers in this siren system-- one for each speaker on the tower.

He equips it with a control pad for on-site activation.

Then a 1,650-ton press injects hot liquid plastic into molds.

In seconds, the plastic cools, and the press retracts to reveal the new speaker parts.

They bolt the speaker halves together, install the screen through which the siren sound emanates, and top it off with a plastic cap.

They install a 400-watt driver in each section of the siren's speakers.

The more speakers there are atop the siren tower, the greater the reach.

The most powerful can be heard many miles away.

Emergency vehicles are equipped with smaller versions of these systems to warn motorists of their speedy approach, and the concept is basically the same-- to get your instant attention.

in today's hustle-and-bustle world, it's not uncommon to forgo brown-bagging it and instead to grab a meal on the go.

It's not surprising to see that food retailers, from mega supermarkets to tiny convenience stores, carry prepackaged sandwiches for the hungry-in-a-hurry customer.

Ham and cheese, cheese and tomato, chicken salad-- just a few of the many sandwich varieties you can buy ready-made.

Retail customers specify which ingredients they want in their sandwich order, and the factory sets up the assembly lines accordingly.

The first step is to load fresh bread into an automated machine.

While doing so, they visually inspect the slices and remove any with holes or other flaws.

The machine separates the slices in the loaf.

Then, because this sandwich requires it, an internal roller spreads melted butter.

The machine then drops the buttered slices faceup onto the belt that moves through the production line, where first, an automated depositor squirts on the quantity and type of mayonnaise the customer requested.

Workers manually lay on the more specific ingredients, such as cold cuts or grated cheddar cheese.

In the prep area, workers load logs of ham into a slicer.

The customer has specified the size and weight of the slices it wants in the sandwich, and the factory programs the slicer accordingly.

The slices go off to the assembly line, where workers add them to the sandwiches.

Next, they close up the sandwiches.

They stack the sandwiches in piles of two.

The belt then brings the sandwiches to a mechanized cutter.

The cutter works like a reciprocating saw, the vertical blade oscillating at high speed as the sandwich travels through it.

The stacked halves on each side will be packaged together as one sandwich.

Some of the sandwich varieties produced in the largest quantities are made on a fully automated assembly line.

A robot suctions up bread slices and places them on a moving belt.

Positioning plates descend and adjust the slices so that they'll be perfectly centered under the nozzles, which dispense the sandwich ingredients.

In production here, egg-salad sandwiches.

A nozzle deposits a set quantity of chopped egg with mayonnaise on every second slice.

At the next station, robotic arms lined with suction cups grab the empty slices and flip them over onto the filled slices.

Next stop, an ultrasonic knife.

It slices the sandwiches in two using vibrations produced by high-frequency sound waves.

This cutting method gives a cleaner edge.

Next, robotic arms pick up half of each sandwich, spin it around, and stack it onto the other half.

A robot grabs four finished sandwiches at a time and puts them in triangular, plastic trays, which then move on to the sealing and labeling stations.

Back on the semi-automated assembly line, workers stack the sandwiches manually and place them in individual plastic-lined cardboard packages.

A conveyor belt brings them to a machine, which pushes down the top flap and heat-seals it shut.

The sandwiches hit store shelves within 12 hours of production.

They stay fresh for an additional three days, after which the sandwich company removes the unsold ones while making its daily delivery of new ones.

Before the invention of electrical lighting, candlesticks were household essentials.

They often had shiny flanges to reflect the light of the flame and throw the glow farther.

Necessity may have been the reason for their invention, but candlesticks soon evolved into a thing of beauty.

With their elegant curves, these pewter candlesticks add a touch of class to any decor.

Top them off with lit candles, and the ambiance improves, which is why people still use candlesticks to both decorate and illuminate.

This candlestick starts with a flat pewter disk.

The worker stamps the company insignia onto it.

He loads the stamped disk into a lathe against a flared form known as the chuck-- a kind of template for the base of the candlestick.

He rubs a wax-like lubricant onto the pewter to reduce friction, while he works the metal as it spins very fast on the lathe.

He exerts a fair amount of pressure with a finger-shaped tool to make the pewter conform to the shape of the chuck.

This process is called spinning.

It takes a series of passes with the tool to transform the flat disk into the basic shape of a candlestick base.

He trims the bottom to make the part perfectly level.

Now, with a wooden dowel, he rolls the bottom of the candlestick base to make it more substantial.

The base now complete, he sets it aside.

He now works a smaller pewter disk against a different chuck to shape the candlestick top, which is called the bobeche.

He flares the bobeche, creating a flange to reflect candlelight and catch wax drippings.

Using the chuck, pictured on the left, he's produced a stylish candlestick top.

To make the candlestick post, the next worker melts pewter and skims off the impurities.

He pours the molten pewter into a mold, and it solidifies quickly.

He drains the remaining liquid pewter and opens the mold, revealing a hollow post that matches the top and base of the candlestick.

Pewter is also hardened in the channel through which it was poured.

This extra material, called sprue, will be removed later.

Over at the next station, a worker removes a seam-like ridge created where the parts of the mold came together.

He scrapes and files the ridge to even the surface.

On the left, you can see the candlestick post before the ridge removal.

And this is the part afterward.

Another worker now slices off the sprue ends with a band saw, leaving the post design intact.

The pewter sprues will be remelted and reused.

Next, the worker clamps the post into position, and a paddle drill bores into one end and then the other.

It slopes the lip of the casting inward, creating a chamfered edge that will connect neatly to the candlestick top and base.

He slides a rod through the casting to better grip the part as he presses it against a fine-grit sand belt.

The sanding process removes scuffs and scrapes, and the result is satiny-smooth.

Now it's time for this pewter candlestick to come together.

He places the post on the candlestick top and solders them together.

The tin-alloy solder wire melts and acts like hot glue to bond the two parts.

He moves the candlestick base into position.

He dips the open end of the cast post into a flux substance to prepare the surface and transfers it to the base.

As he solders the two, he taps the post with the torch to realign it when it slips a bit.

Then he continues soldering.

He now dips the completed candlestick in soapy water.

This removes flux residue and hardens the solder bond.

For a highly polished finish, he presses the candlestick against a spinning cotton wheel that rubs a special compound onto it.

It's a shinier alternative to the satin-pewter candlestick, and the effect is similar to silver.

When it comes to candlesticks, two are always better than one, so it's time to pair them up.

Together, they'll really shine.