Grid of Industry

The command tent gradually fell silent.

Not because there was nothing left to discuss, but because every man present had become completely absorbed in the master grid spread across the drafting table.

Charcoal lines crisscrossed the heavy vellum with mathematical, clinical precision. Multi-story blast furnace complexes. Pneumatic converter shops. Continuous rolling mills. Private hot-metal rail corridors. Bulk river quays. Centralized steam-power stations.

Each addition transformed what had been an empty six-thousand-acre basin into an operational, living reality.

Arthur finally broke the heavy silence, leaning both palms against the table frame. "...It's enormous, Ernest. It's breathtakingly huge."

Ernest looked up briefly, wiping a charcoal-stained thumb against his vest. "It has to be, Arthur."