Chapter 1: The Weight of Judgment
The early morning sun cast long shadows across Baltimore's industrial district as I hefted my toolbox and followed my father through the gates of Consolidated Textiles. At twenty-two, I had inherited Pa's lean build and steady hands, though my sandy hair and earnest blue eyes gave me a younger appearance that often acted against me in our line of work. Factory foremen preferred to deal with older men when their expensive machinery broke down, but I had long since proven my worth with wrenches and diagnostic skills that rivaled my father's decades of experience.
“Morning, Mr. Sparrs,” called out Tom Bradley, the factory's shift supervisor, as he approached with the hurried gait of a man whose problems couldn't wait. “Thank goodness you're here. That new hydro-ionic loom on the third floor seized up around midnight. We've got orders backing up and the floor boss is having fits.”
My father, Mitchell Sparrs, nodded with the calm assurance of a man who had se…
