With all the machinery set up for people to run in place or pretend to climb steps in place or ride a bicycle in place, wouldn't it make sense to design them in such a way that the act of overcoming the mechanical resistance returns electricity to the grid, or perhaps pumps the water to keep the cooler filled?

Turns out, used to be miscreants were sentenced to the treadmill.
William Cubitt, a civil engineer raised in a family of millwrights, created the treadmill—which was also called a treadwheel in the early days—in 1818. Cubitt  later became famous for overseeing the construction of The Crystal Palace in London in 1851, and was knighted by Queen Victoria for his efforts. Cubitt’s early attempts at the treadmill’s design took many forms, including two wheels you walked on whose cogs interlocked. But his most popular edition, which was installed at Brixton Prison in London, involved a wide wheel. Prisoners pressed down with their feet on steps embedded in the wheel, which moved it, presenting them with the next step. Picture it like the sport of log-rolling, only the log-like wheel was fixed in place. The Brixton treadmill was hooked up to subterranean machinery that ground corn. It wasn’t fun.

This treadmill could busy as many as 24 prisoners, standing side-by-side along the wheel. Some devices at other prisons were smaller, and most treadmills soon included partitions so convicts could not socialize. They slogged for 10 hours a day in summer, and a mere seven in winter.
Unfortunately, somebody tried hooking the treadmill to a dynamo, and a prison yard of hardened convicts couldn't hold a candle to a small windmill. In addition, too much cardio can lead to cardiac arrest, and a day at the treadmill could turn into a death sentence.

Then, reformers started thinking about rehabilitative, rather than punitive, labor.
This new system was considered both humane and, most importantly, highly industrious. Outside the prison walls, there was a labor shortage. Instead of milling a few dozen bushels of corn a day— work that an animal could do—these convicts were making shoes, clothing, hardware, furniture, rifles, and clocks. Private manufacturers brought raw materials or unfinished products into the prison and paid for the labor.

The idea soon spread, and prisoners all over the country were put to work—until concerns about prisons interfering with the open market surfaced, that is. Prevailing ideas about incarceration, work, and punishment continued to evolve, but the treadmill was long gone.
That "interference with the open markets" depends on the nature of the work. Southern iron furnaces made extensive use of convict labor, for instance.  Research into using prison time as restorative labor continues these days, but the prison treadmill became cruel and unusual punishment.  The gym was another matter.
It resurfaced in 1913 with a U.S. patent for a “training-machine.” In the 1960s, the American mechanical engineer William Staub created a home fitness machine called the PaceMaster 600. He began manufacturing home treadmills in New Jersey. (He used it often himself, right up until the months before his death at the age of 96.)

Now, it’s the top selling piece of exercise equipment in the U.S. It’s evolved, of course, as has America, and the two fit each other quite nicely. Today’s treadmill lets people run or walk even in inclement weather, at home or at the gym. It’s a painful, boring, and sometimes cruel device: People still do get injured and even die on treadmills. But we still climb on, by choice, letting our other devices amuse us while we sweat.
It's those other devices that serve to deter unwanted conversation, rather than walls between the machines.

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