The brief was simple: find where the public can still stand near a machine printing serious volume and hear it. Three weeks in, it is the hardest thing this project has tried to verify. The working print museum is real and thriving — Penrith, Haverhill, Dublin and Carson all run genuine, volunteer-tended machinery on open days, several free or near enough. All of them, without exception, run letterpress: hand-set type, Linotype hot-metal casting, a 1936 Heidelberg cylinder press at Penrith on a Sunday morning. Not the process the other ninety pages of this register are about.

The machine that started this trade does not run anywhere, for anyone. The Smithsonian holds unit #517 off the Xerox 914 assembly line, donated 1985, a static object behind glass. Ask whether the machine that made this industry still turns over, and the checked answer is no. Letterpress gets Sundays, staffed by volunteers who love it. The photocopier got a display case.

What still runs at production speed, in public, is the trade show: drupa in Düsseldorf (2028, public tickets), Hunkeler Innovationdays in Lucerne (2027, presses run continuously), PacPrint in Australia (B2B-badged, Melbourne dates unannounced). Closer to home, any Officeworks counter runs a genuine 81-page-a-minute press in view of the queue; Japan's konbini copier became the one photocopier anywhere to earn real affection, printing IDs and tickets around the clock. Between all of that and the roped-off letterpress sits the gap this register set out to map. The working-photocopier museum does not yet exist. The register is, for the record, accepting nominations.