Through the factory's half-covered sheet-metal gates, Revis caught a glimpse of how Scrap Iron Fort's industry operated.
Worn-out engine heads, slide boxes, slide-box rails, and other parts formed the main body of a crude lathe. Its bed used welded channel steel, cast-iron guide rails, and epoxy resin to bind it together. This solved the difficulty of casting large components, but it also required frequent maintenance.
A long cutting tool extended into a steel rod, fed entirely by hand. Perhaps they were making seamless steel pipes, which might eventually become rifled "iron tubes."
The young man, Andre, told him, "Even the thrust bearings in there are made from bicycle ball bearings."
"Impressive," Revis could not help but praise.
The pressure of survival ran so deep that the people here squeezed everything dry, including their own ingenuity.
The workshop supervisor by the gate noticed Revis, a stranger, and casually shut the rust-covered sheet-metal gate. Andre lightly patted Revis on the shoulder, signaling him to focus on the matter at hand.
They passed through a wire fence supported by layers of piled sandboxes. This time, the guards gave them no trouble and let them straight in. It was much warmer indoors, thanks to the green waterproof tarps that sealed the entire office building tight.
The partitions between the desks had been removed. Compared to the prewar days when the desks had been buried beneath papers, they were much cleaner now. The water dispenser in the corner was empty, and not even a trace of water stain remained inside its jug. The small black trash can nearby held not only waste paper, but several spent shell casings as well.
Judging by his bearing and expression, Revis could roughly guess who the leader was. If he was not mistaken, it was the short brown-haired man