"The production lines have started running. We'll probably need a month for the workers to become familiar with each stage before production can get on track." In the office, Oedmeir held a data slate as she monitored the situation.
Just as she had said, the current production had no real purpose. She had set the lines in motion only to let the workers adapt to the pace of work within the factory district.
Four hours of work, two hours of study, and two hours of training, with an hour in between for commuting and rest. Oedmeir left the remaining time for them to arrange themselves. It was not because she truly wanted people to live easy, comfortable lives, but because the soul-stripping symptoms caused by a Gellar Field operating at 40% power required time to recover from.
If daemons really did infiltrate, they could only raise the Gellar Field's output to 80%, then send in the Penitent Army, whose barrier of faith was sturdier, to purge the corruption—and hopefully save any unlucky people who had failed to escape in time.
Working too long within a Blackstone-enhanced Gellar Field would easily turn workers into expendable resources, and Oedmeir had absolutely no desire to go through another round of basic education.
"The factory is producing... production-line support facilities, plus a whole pile of miscellaneous junk. Let Delia and the others handle those things. I've made the framework already, so I won't bother with the little details."
Oedmeir yawned, then tossed the data slate in her hand to Lin Fan. Rising to her feet, she beckoned for him to follow as the two strolled through the high tower overlooking the industrial district.
"What has that foolish boy been doing these past few days?"
Lin Fan knew she was asking about Perturabo. After thinking