Hotshoes

The soft whirring of precision machinery filled the room, amidst gasps and small, excited yelps of encouragement.

The two performers were doing it standing up, using laser pointers and a number of high tech gadgets usually only seen in movies of a certain genre.

Fourteen seated men and women were watching, in varying degrees of rapt attention and fascinated admiration. The performance, teetering gently on the edge of completion, came to a climax, and the furious jiggling under the table came to an end.

As one, they rose to their feet in applause, punching the air and high-fiving each other. Simultaneously, the screen upon which the performance was shown flickered sporadically into darkness. The flywheels in the heels of their specially designed shoes were no longer generating enough power to run the video projector, though their notebooks would run for another hour or so, on the charge each had received.

This was the perfect group upon whom to test the devices, as they were all go-get-em sales types. You know, the ones who just can't sit still; who sit in meetings furiously jiggling one or both legs up and down.

All of that wasted energy, put to use, with a simple bellows arrangement mounted on the sole of a shoe, and the innards out of a windup toy car, shoehorned into the heel block.