Ominous clouds rolled around the sky, casting an enormous gloomy shadow over the factory, as Mr Wensworth watched his workers through an elaborately decorated window. He was in deep thought, and every crackle from the roaring fireplace seemed to unnerve him and break through into his mind. Strange and untimely events filled his week; there were too many to be called a coincidence. Only a few days ago, two of his most trusted foremen were rushed to the hospital and results came out as food poisoning, and the next day no less than fifty of his employees resigned without reason at the same time, leading Mr Wensworth wondering what he could have possibly done to make them do so.
There was a sharp noise that woke Mr Wensworth from his internal struggles quite suddenly. Loud footsteps crawled up to his door, and a loud knock bounced around the spacious room.
"Come in."
The magnificent oak door glided open and in strode a man, tall and robust with even, neat hair and clothing that complemented his personality perfectly.
"What news do you have for me today?" asked Mr Wensworth, whose physiques could not have contrasted more greatly with his behemoth of a secretary.
"Not much, sir," replied the secretary affably. "Most of them are still uneasy from the recent events, but things haven't gotten out of hand yet."
"I see."
Mr Wensworth sank back into deep thought and then suddenly asked, "What about Elysius Blight? Does Mr Blight still want to collaborate with our company even though we are at the brink of bankruptcy?"
"Yes, sir. He believes he can help us out of this time of misfortune as well as strengthening both of our positions in the market."
Mr Wensworth slowly rose from his cushioned armchair and began to pace up and down the room, his footsteps echoing like a metronome. Stroking his chin, he thought, "Working together with Blight means that I will get my share of profit, even if it mainly comes from his sources, as well as solving this infernal employment crisis; what do I gain by going through all this alone? I should look through his contract before deciding anything, though. There might be some important information that could prove to be a major setback—"
"Oh yes," broke in the secretary, not realising he had disturbed his employer's thoughts. "I have a copy of his terms and conditions, if that helps your decision." He drew out a black briefcase and placed it lightly on the desk, treating it as if it were made of glass.
Mr Wensworth stopped pacing abruptly, walked to the briefcase in a single stride, and stared at his secretary in disbelief with a shadow of suspicion on his face. "Where did you—"
"I went and asked Mr Blight for a copy of the contract as soon as I realised your intention of collaborating with him."
Mr Wensworth sighed. For an instant, he imagined his secretary knowing more than he should or secretly being in Blight's confidence but realised that he had merely planned a step ahead to help him. He reached out a lanky hand and opened the briefcase carefully. Inside was the contract that Blight had proposed to Mr Wensworth days ago. He scanned through it carefully, his eyes two black ants scurrying around.
"Is this all there is?" he asked without lifting his eyes up from the piece of paper in front of him.
"Yes, all of this was written by Elysius Blight himself and delivered to me personally."
"I will consider this agreement. Thank you, Winslow, you may go now. Or are there any questions you have concerning this matter?"
"None, sir, as long as you are satisfied."
"Very well, I will be seeing you later."
Winslow nodded, stood up, and stepped out.
—
Steam hissed, fires roared, and turbines whirred around, as heaps of coal were shoved into the mouths of ravenous furnaces, which instantly devoured the coal. Above it, the mammoth-like boiler, which was black from the belches of soot coming out from the furnace, screamed as it spewed out hot steam to power the massive turbines for many major cities.
Although work in these factories was dismal (mainly because of the miasma of putrid smoke and the smell of soot) the workers had no reason to despise their employer, Mr Wensworth. He compensated for their rough work with fair wages, adequate food and drink, and precautionary health checks. Most workers, who came from poorer districts of the country, had no access to food or medicine; they regarded the factory as their second home.
However, during the past week a number of incidents which had sown seeds of suspicion and distrust into the working community for the first time. Several workers and even the foremen were poisoned during lunch break. Naturally, since the only person allowed to handle the food was the cook, this led to many theories and suspicions to how the poison found its way into the food.
"The cook must have been the one who poisoned those men; he probably wants to remove some people outta his way and receive extra pay or something."
"Don't be a fool! If he did that, the boss would know. No, the boss must have ordered the cook to poison them—"
"Why would he do that? Nobody here has done anything to 'im. Maybe it's an outsider who snuck in while cook wasn't lookin'..."
Nevertheless, the rumors stopped spreading after a few days, and when the people poisoned returned looking healthier than ever, almost everybody dismissed the incident as an accident.
After the food poisoning, many workers resigned and mysteriously vanished, but nobody paid any attention to them; every man returned to their own work once more.
CLANG. CLANG. The monotonous ringing of the bell roused the busy workers' attention. In unison, every one of them finished up on their work and marched in single file towards the dining hall. Although it was not as soiled as the rest of the factory, scraps of mouldy bread and stains covered the grimy floor. Wafts of greasy air flowed around the rectangular hall, swirling the candles' fires.
Inconsistent light from the many glowing candles on the tables danced around the meagre rays of light that trickled in through the misty translucent windows.
As each of the workers received his share of food and water, they cluttered into the wooden chairs and began to start devouring their bread and meat. Soon, the hall was filled with lively conversations and laughter. Lunch time was always the most anticipated time of the day, due to the dirty mornings they had to endure every day. It was as if the human spirit refused to be tied down by their work; dirty-faced men roared with laughter at each others' stories, while younger boys raced back and forth, almost competing with each other for more food. Crumbs of bread and small chunks of canned meat fell to the ground, and even the black rats residing in the crevices around the dirty factory scurried around rapidly, foraging for small scraps of food left behind by the humans.
Clang. Clang. As the same bell echoed through the hall, bits of food were shoved into eager mouths at the last second, laughter and fragments of conversations died down gradually, and everyone left for their work stations once more.
Footsteps thundered down the hall, and the group of workers thinned until those remaining pushed open a pair of audacious iron doors and entered the boiler room. One by one, each individual snatched a wide metal shovel and resumed feeding the greedy flames of the furnaces.
One of the workers froze. "That's odd," he thought. "I thought I heard—"
A deep rumbling noise came from one of the boilers. Alarmed, many of the workmen dropped their shovels and pokers, and rushed to check on the boilers. Yells and confused cries shot out of the boiler room and spread around the factory like a wildfire. Soon everyone was crowded around the entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of the chaos inside.
"Move aside, move aside," cried an impatient grimy man dressed in thick overalls exasperatedly, "I'm the mechanic, you know!"
Pushing through the crowd was no easy task; there were so many people that it was more likely to push past a herd of cattle. Eventually, he managed to get through the doors and face the problem that stirred up the entire factory. Pandemonium reached out its hand to everyone in the boiler room. They were scuttling spiders moving around in disarray; each was trying to find the fault in the boilers, which had started to vibrate the floor with its thundering rumbles.
The mechanic scanned the entire scene like an eagle hunting for its next victim. It stood out among the other boilers significantly.
While the normal boilers gave loud shrieks and long hisses of steam, the faulty one vibrated violently and coughed out steam with every ominous rumble. There was still time. If he reached and fixed it in time, nothing catastrophic would happen. If he didn't… It would be best not to think about it.
Hurriedly but calmly, the hassled mechanic made his way to the target. He pushed past disoriented stokers and dodged the sinewy arms of a coal miner. Finally, he reached the boiler and searched for the flaw. A flickering movement caught his eyes and he saw it: the pressure gauge was vibrating dramatically and though he realised what was happening, he was too late to prevent incoming disaster.
A loud bang erupted and pierced the entire factory like a catastrophic volcano exploding. Masses of glass shattered simultaneously and fell to the ground; among the sea of glittering crystalline shards, a faint flash of gold could be seen dashing across the air. Those in and around the boiler room were blasted and blown to bits by the sheer force of the explosion. Black soot was mixed with the roasting steam to form a deadly combination of thick, blistering dark steam, which travelled around the surrounding neighbourhood and covered it like an eternal shadow. Unfortunate people travelling past and residing nearby were engulfed in darkness, while the survivors of the explosion poured out, gasping for breath.
Among them were Mr Wensworth and his secretary, Winslow. They were not as badly hurt as their workers, save for a few cuts and bruises, but they were, nonetheless, very much shocked at the final blow their factory had suffered. Sparks of orange and yellow leaped out and made contact with the wooden beams holding the factory. In an instant, the sparks turned into twirling tongues of fire, which licked the beams and tore apart the foundations of the halls and caused red brick walls to cave in and collapse in a heap of rubble.
Thud, thud, thud. Firefighters rushed to the scene to try and wrestle with the blazing inferno and recover trapped workers still hidden among the heated debris. Their thick boots plodded on against the unrelenting heat and their coats flapped wildly as they swung their axes to clear blocked passages. Some of them brought out great tanks of water connected to long leather hoses which they used to spray jets of water in rebellion against the flames, but it was no use; every spray of water was mockingly slapped away by the engulfing flames.
Many lucky workers rescued by the brave firefighters emerged from the burning rubble and were treated on the scene immediately by medics, who had just arrived to help. The majority of the workers were safe and alive, but the factory was beyond any human power to save. As they looked on, the dark clouds parted and rain began dripping down to the earth as the fire burned on to match the orange shade of the sunset.