The instant the doors were smashed open, silence fell both inside and outside the workshop, as though no one had expected matters to reach this point.
But a second later, surging emotions swept the demonstrators into the workshop. Some still had anger to vent; others had begun to feel afraid but were pushed along by everyone else. Most simply followed the crowd ahead, squeezing into a workshop that had long since run out of room.
The few textile workers and guards trapped inside had already retreated to the side to avoid becoming the angry crowd's first targets. If stepping outside earlier had not meant risking a savage beating, these ordinary people earning a meager living would have fled long ago.
Some workers even took the initiative to blend into the crowd and become demonstrators themselves.
After all, their slogans did sound somewhat reasonable.
Yet once the crowd packed the workshop's entire ground floor, they discovered that the open-plan space contained only a few familiar old-fashioned looms and jacquard looms. There was no sign of the supposedly improved machine that required only one operator.
This discovery left the workers, who had smashed their way inside on a surge of anger, momentarily bewildered, and the scene grew even more chaotic.
Suddenly, a worker who seemed to have only just joined the crowd offered a quiet reminder:
"Upstairs! The machine and its designer are upstairs!"
The textile workers who had led the chants from atop a cart in the street immediately looked toward the staircase.
"Come on! Let's smash that machine and show them they can't just take away our livelihoods!"
At this fresh shout, the crowd that had begun to scatter immediately gathered again, surging toward the stairs like a tide. But before the first person could set foot on the bottom