The weather machine, when Haru shows it to Saito, looks like a complicated lamppost. In that it’s like a lampost, it’s metal and has a large head at the top of it. Beyond that, it has numerous moving parts in the shape of arms that seem to measure the world about it. Barometers and thermometers are all inset into it. Saito watches as it makes its slow weather dance. While at once it is elegant, it is also gangly. It is clockwork. It’s meters shift, and—without warning—it makes music. It sounds out a lyrical, trumpeted fanfare in order to announce what it thinks the weather might be. Icons rise up from its mechanical structure represenations of a sun for clear and sunny weather, a blue heron for drizzle and transitional weather, or a dragon and mist for rainy or stormy weather. Today, Saito watches it release a dragon in the form of a bronze plate, and the machine does so with unbelievable fanfare, so Saito immediately hands the camera to Haru and stands in front of the machine.