The Iron Century
Manchester, 1848. The sky over the mills is the color of tarnished silver, choked with coal smoke that hangs like a canopy over the city. The looms never stop. They cannot stop. They have been running since before Arthur was born, and they will run until long after he is dead. That is the bargain of the industrial age: your life in exchange for the machine's eternity. Arthur Harlan was born in...
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