Several days after the industrial district opened.
The system was working. Power flowed from the waterwheel through the main shaft, branching into workshops, driving saws and bellows and grinding stones. The city hummed with mechanical rhythm.
Then something broke.
A large wooden gear in the main power corridor developed a damaged tooth. The machine shuddered, groaned, and stopped. Workers gathered around, examining the damage. The gear was massive—nearly six feet in diameter, its teeth carefully shaped, its surface worn from weeks of continuous operation.
Arthur arrived within minutes. He pushed through the crowd, knelt beside the gear, and studied the damage.
The broken tooth was obvious. But Arthur noticed something else. Several other teeth were slightly different sizes. Not dramatically—just enough to matter. The gear was handmade. It had worked. But it wasn't precise.
He looked up at the assembled craftsmen. "Who made this?"
A carpenter raised his hand. "I did."
