The last steel beam went into place at noon on October 14th, 1893. Jonathan Wright stood on the sidewalk below and watched it rise, slow and inevitable, into the Chicago sky.
He was thirty-four years old. He had been working on this building for twenty years. He was forty-four now—or had been, for the three years since the beam had gone up and he had stopped counting time because time no longer mattered. "Mr. Wright?" A voice beside him. Young, respectful. One of the junior engineers, perhaps twenty-three, with steel dust in his hair and wonder in his eyes. "It's...
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