Science of Failure

The sample ladle came forward on a short rail carriage.

Nobody spoke. A moment earlier, the converter house had been filled with a deafening roar powerful enough to shake the steel building frame itself. Now, the sudden silence felt unnatural, filled only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of cooling metal and the hiss of escaping steam.

Ernest stood near the sampling platform with Hollen beside him. The converter had been tilted just far enough on its trunnions to expose the molten bath beneath the floating slag layer, glowing a bright white-yellow in the dim factory light.