tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post4787079788039788993..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Sunday July 3rd, 2016Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-42693629119862199632016-07-20T17:32:21.443-07:002016-07-20T17:32:21.443-07:00Greg - ah the English language. So, so much room f...Greg - ah the English language. So, so much room for confusion.<br /><br />Thanks! And... I'm glad you survived your factory job without getting blown up!<br /><br />Brilliant descriptions again, and an intriguing conversation at the end. I can't believe you left us hanging like that though! I hope this continues on the following day's post... but I will have to confirm that at another time.<br /><br />Also: I like the sound of that office. I would be quite happy there, I think.Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-15015349023036442222016-07-09T02:03:01.051-07:002016-07-09T02:03:01.051-07:00I noticed just that your comment on Miles makes it...I noticed just that your comment on Miles makes it sound like he's turning 12 years rather than 12 weeks, and that my comment yesterday makes it sound like you beat Max up, rather than getting up earlier than him in the morning, so I think between us we've thoroughly confused any other readers of your blog! Malta seem set to continue daytime temperatures in the thirties for the rest of the month, so I'm resigned to being too hot now.<br />Your description of the factory floor reminds me of one I worked in as a summer job while I was a student, except for the guard with the machine gun. I think our guards used stun grenades and rocket launchers instead :-P All the little details are right though, even the elevated office and restricted approach, so very nicely observed! And I really appreciated the little twist the last line provided.<br /><br /><b>The factory</b><br />Wrought iron gates taller than three men standing on each others' shoulders were set into red-brick walls that reached higher yet. On the inside there were still a few trees, but on the outside they'd been cut down and the wood carted inside to be used as fuel. There was a clear stretch from where the forest now ended to where the walls began, and it was more than coincidence that this meant no-one could climb a tree to help them get over the wall. The road that led up to the gates was maintained but not tarmacced, and the little brass plaque set next to the gates provided no name or information, the words engraved on it simply said "Go away".<br />Hieronymos sat in a spacious office at the top of the factory and looked out of the north-facing window. The office was effectively a cupola: perched at the very top it had windows on all four sides and entrance was granted by means of an iron spiral staircase that rose in the centre of the room. From here he could see as far as the walls and the gate, but not over. He sighed, and looked down at his desk. Crystal panes in varying hues were inset here and there, and behind them valves illuminated to show concentrations, pressures, gradients and temperatures. A narrow column down one side indicated the output of the generators, and right at the bottom a valve glowed yellowly, assuring him that the high wrought iron gates were connected to a murderously high current. As was the staircase accessing his office.<br />"Phlogiston production is up 8%" said a quiet voice; this belonged to the Auditor who was stood at a bookcase doing through ledgers. "This is very impressive, you've only been here two months."<br />"There were obvious inefficiences," said Hieronymos. His thin hands pulled his suit jacket tightly around his body, but he still felt cold. "I have more to fix."<br />"Good." The auditor was silent for a moment, and then, "You will reduce production so that the improvement is only 3%."<br />"Of course. May I ask why?"<br />"You may. Continue to make the improvements though."<br />"<i>Why?</i>"<br />The Auditor looked up and smiled at Heironymos's irritation. "Learn to ask the right questions," he said. "Because--"<br />Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com