- 3 - My Kind of Town -
She had always felt more at home among the workers in the factory. More so than in her family’s suites.
This floor was over 5,000 square feet. The next level down manufactured components for rifles which they supplied to other manufacturers. 60% of the Cramer Cartridge Gin was machined and assembled here in this room.
This production floor operated at 100% capacity, every inch was meticulously measured and calculated for peak efficiency. During war time, it ran 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Over 30,000 labor hours were credited to this floor alone. 20% of the gross profit of the company came from this operation. Until the war ended.
Sales have dropped drastically each year since the war ended.
Mary Ruth had an idea on how to get things firing on all pistons again.
All the quiet gardens for tea, respectfully stringent professors, and the social clubs, all the hangers on, and lookey loos were all something to be endured. A game of society she had to win before she could return home. She had longed for the rhythmic cacophony of the factory.
Mary Ruth walked past the fast moving machinery, her higher agility and perception enabling her to unconsciously avoiding the ten ton moving parts. It was uncommon but unwary people might get injured.
Safety standards required that red and yellow painted curbs clearly delineated the safe walking zones.
The new layout should improve the flow of work through the shop by nearly 12%. That will reduce labor hours, inversely, if things pick up with the new project, we can realize higher output in future quarters.
Mary was reviewing her pitch to the board this afternoon.
It has to be exactly right. It has to be unquestionably legitimate. They will see we can change course now that the war is over. There are no longer dwarves to shoot at, we need to build a new legacy.
Her family''s factory was unlike all but a few of the others in New Amsterdam. Fast, gritty, and efficient where it needed to be and highly legitimate.
The sounds of steam engines driving conveyors, furnaces blasting, hammers striking steel; they all sang like an orchestra to her as she walked briskly across the production floor. She loved it.
-
The new assembly station was shoring up an issue with their rifle sights. The final inspection was completed by hand and that had turned out to be the issue.
They were now comparing each component part to a stencil. There were 7 parts to the mechanical sight and the inspectors spent 8 minutes to confirm the assembly was precisely done.
“359, 360, 362.” Mary said to herself while the stop watch ticked.
The two women were moving quickly, inspecting the parts according to the new procedure. But they missed the estimated time.
And they made a few mistakes. We will need to have them practice more.
“418,419,420,” She counted under her breath.
One of the women finished and the other was done a couple seconds later.
426 seconds, a 11.25% improvement.
Mary turned to the production supervisor.
“They are doing well, schedule them for 2 hours of additional practice with this new procedure.”
“Yes ma’am.”
”Good work you two,” She said.
Those two are our best and they could use the extra pay.
She turned and walked away from them, knowing the supervisor would update their schedules today.
He is a second cousin, aunt Frannie’s boy, may she rest in peace.
She felt the weight of the folder in her hand. It was the SOP for the procedure the two women were piloting. It represented the last pennies they could squeeze out of their current production projects.
She never would have found this solution if she had been content to believe the analysts. Mary Ruth had run her own analysis, with new queries, and she had a new idea.
Mary Ruth crossed the warehouse to the stairs and surmounted the catwalk.
She cut an imposing figure in her fine suit. And the saber she wore on her hip turned heads wherever she went. Yet she noticed each eye as it tracked her progress, through the mall, within the halls of her alma-mater, the opera, or through the factory floor.
How can people allow themselves to be so obvious?
Mary Ruth Cramer was the acting CEO of Caliber Manufacturing ltd. In truth it was her family’s company. Her father built it, he owned it, and the seat at the board table bore his name. But she ran the company better than her father had. As evidenced by their remaining profits over the last two years.
That is evidence enough of what my college education paid for. A natural consequence of hard work will always be additional work and higher rewards.
She spoke with few other people as she left the factory floor. Just the obligatory professional discourse a board member needed to endure while within their domain.
After two flights of stairs, she entered the engineering offices and dropped off the traveler for the Tangent Sights at the shop manager’s desk. He was out on the shop floor instead of at his desk.
As a shop manager should be. We did not promote him to desk manager. He will review the report and take the required actions this evening.
Ruth stepped into an available office and closed the door. She sat in the chair behind the desk. She had to sit carefully to make sure her saber did not get caught up in it.
Carrying the saber gave her some trouble, and kept many of the eligible men away. Young women were not expected to wear a saber, they were expected to look pretty and sit if a chair was available.
By Jove, it is the 1900s already, at least they have stopped asking me to wear dresses.
She removed her functional shoes and replaced them with her fashionable ones she had left on this desk on her way down earlier.
Her three piece suit, was cut to fit her feminine frame, not uncommon for the modern business woman, and many boutiques could be found to offer brightly colored suits for women.
At college, she had set the trend, young women emulated her fashionable suits and even took to carrying ornamental sabers at half the functional length.
I have yet to regain that level of influence out in society. And it won’t be with sabers when women stand up for themselves someday.
Mary Ruth wore a gunmetal gray suit with a cream and gold filigree vest over a stark white blouse. She wore a cream colored scarf and broach at her throat.
Next stop will be the steel supplier meeting and I will look my best. It doesn''t help that I’m a woman half their age. I am a Cramer. I run this company legitimately and I look the part.
She checked her makeup and hair in the folding mirror she carried in her vest pocket. Tight golden curls cut short, around ear length.
She checked her small pistol, carried in her coat''s inside pocket, which she had specially tailored for this purpose. It was a dual trigger, snub-nosed piece for close contact. It was ornate as was the fashion for young ladies of her station. She had a larger custom firearm in the trunk of her car.
She emerged from the office and found a young secretary waiting, he held out a folder.
"Ms. Cramer. Your notes for the meeting. I typed them up as you requested," He said.
"Thank you. Has my car arrived?" Mary said. She started walking and reviewing the notes.
Excellent sense of urgency. And he is informed enough to know where to wait for me. He seems to have some significant skill.
She cleared another flight of stairs without losing her breath. The secretary kept a couple paces behind her.
"Thank you, these are in good order. You are new here. What is your name?" She asked.
"Andrew, Ms. Cramer.” He said.
“Yes, Andrew Boucher.” Mary said, remembering the report on the new hires from two weeks ago.
“Who referred you for this position? And how do you know my father?” She asked.
She continued up the stairs assuming he would follow.
Boucher seems smart and capable, could he be trouble?
“A senior of mine from Pandect University, where I was top of my class in political science and business management. She recommended I work for Caliber Manufacturing.” He said smoothly.
I don''t recognize his face. Although I did not run in all circles. Who could?
“So you intend to enter into politics.”
“I have considered it. The coursework covers our economic strategy as well. Additionally I believe that brand name companies, like Caliber, have significant impact on the quality of life of the people. I can do more at a larger company than a small one,” Andrew said. His breathing was coming harder now.
He seems legitimate. Three more flights of stairs, we will see what he is made of.
She stopped on the landing and turned to take the man in again. His hair had come loose from the Parisian tie he wore it in. His slacks were pleated, his sweater fashionable but not expensive. His shoes were practical and clean. His face was clear and flushed from the climb. He was smiling.
“So why our company? We manufacture guns Andrew. Guns have never improved someone’s quality of life.” Mary Ruth said before taking off for the next flight of stairs.
“Caliber also manufactures protective vests and there is potential for new applications for our manufacturing capabilities now that the war has ended,” He replied.
Mary stopped suddenly mid-way up the flight of stairs and turned sharply to stare directly into Andrew’s face. She drew her pistol and held it''s barrel to his shoulder.
“You read my notes,” She said flatly.
He could be a spy. Or an assassin.
“I read your notes. As I typed them,” Andrew said. His smile was faltering.
“You are interested in me,” She said. “Romantically.”
He stammered.
“You are likely used to women fawning over you. If you pursue me you will find that I am not without my sharp edges,” She said.
There are hard things that only I can do, and I must be harder or they will break me.
“Yes ma’am,” Andrew said.
Mary’s finger had stayed clear of the trigger of her pistol.
They were alone, deep in the bowels of her family’s empire. They both knew Andrew could disappear. He was sweating.
“They had you sign the confidentiality agreement when you were hired. You are aware that you are not to speak with anyone about anything you have not seen in the morning paper. Is that understood?” Mary said and pressed her gun into him sharply. "Anyone could be in these stairwells. Do not assume spies are lazy or stupid."
Andrew tottered and had to step down onto the next step to keep his balance.
“Yes ma’am,” He said.
She stared at him expectantly for a heavy moment.
“Understood Ms. Cramer.” He said again.
He follows orders, can keep his mouth shut, and he learns quickly. Good boy.
She stowed the pistol in her coat again.
“Do you have a coat? Fetch it. And meet me in the lobby. We are going for a ride,” She said.
-
The Caliber facility was like any other of the manufacturing sites in New Amsterdam. It incorporated a variety of functions that an established manufacturing corporation needed. A decade ago the first thinking machine determined that a large single compound was the most efficient next step forwards for the industry.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The industrial levels reached 9 floors down below ground. The first sub floor consisted of logistics and shipping facilities. The 9 floors above were clerical offices, residential areas for Sr. Managers and higher Executives, conference halls, guest rooms, and the entire floor of clean rooms for their thinking machine.
The top floor was reserved for the Cramer family’s own suite. As the tallest building for 5 city blocks, it had an uninterrupted view of the city on the sea. New Amsterdam, the center of the modern world.
The building commanded the corner of Main street and first street. It stood upon a raised concrete foundation with stairs cascading down on two sides. It resembled a fortress with a glass and steel obelisk thrust up to the sky.
The lobby was modeled after the opulent Hotel Amstel. It featured two front desks and grand staircases leading up and down. There was a smoking lounge for cocktails and waiting guests.
The room was crowned by a mezzanine, with large glass windows facing the street. Guests could peruse paintings and sculptures, as well as view a menagerie of product iterations Caliber had manufactured over the years.
Mary Ruth reflected on a life sized painting of a happy family. Her father Marion Cramer, herself at age six, and Mary Satori Cramer her mother, his second wife.
Such happy people, the artist didn’t know us at all.
“Mother. You would be proud of me. I’m going to ensure the family empire stays clean,” She said.
Andrew came down the stairs from the offices above the lobby. He had traded his sweater for a pinstriped jacket in blue and gray.
Spare clothes for any occasion?
“Business calls.” She said with one last look at the painting. A young Mary Ruth stared out of the pigments, sword in hand and hair done up like a duchess.
“Have you seen Ms. Cramer? I am to attend to her.” Andrew said frantically to the receptionist at the front desk.
“You are not late,” Mary Ruth said causing him to turn around as she descended the stairs to the lobby. “This way.”
She proceeded him out the First street doors and down the covered stairs. She barely paused a moment when she saw two cars waiting in the driveway.
Her father’s limousine stretched out, glistening black like a night fish. Its windows were enchanted to be bullet proof.
“Wait for me by my car, there on the right.” She said to Andrew.
Marion Cramer stepped out from the limousine and held the door for his daughter, indicating they should speak inside. The whole car was soundproofed.
He seems unsettled. Something unexpected has happened.
“Good morning Father.” She said and stepped into the car, sliding over to the far side to make room for him to sit.
Instead, he walked around the outside of the car to kick the tires and talk to the chauffeur for a minute.
“Good morning Mary,” Said Mrs. Trilby. “I see you are still carrying that saber around.”
Mrs. Trilby had a certain look. Her features were sharp, her hair shockingly white, early for her age. Her clothes were dark hues, as if she shopped for her late husband’s funeral yet was still waiting for him to die. She wore a persistently stern face.
I see you are still tying your hair too tightly.
“Good morning. I didn’t realize you would be joining us this morning,” Mary Ruth said. “How is Mr. Trilby?”
“There has been a development. The Duke’s associates believe my services are needed in a higher capacity,” Mrs. Trilby said.
Something has happened. She never gets directly to the point.
Her father stepped into the car. He had always been a big man, muscular and handsome. He took up more than his share of the seat.
“I see you two have started without me. How much have we left to discuss?” The Duke asked.
“Nearly at the beginning it seems,” Mary Ruth replied. “Has something happened with the re-election?”
“More than that. An opportunity has presented itself earlier than I planned. I may have the support of key people to run for governor,” The Duke said.
“It’s all still very early and there are more hands to shake before we announce anything to the press,” Mrs Trilby said.
I am not surprised. They understand how charismatic my father can be, and you cannot argue with his results.
The chauffeur started the car and let it idle.
“What is it you need me to do?” Mary asked.
“Exactly what you have been doing my girl. Lead this company towards a brighter future,” The Duke said.
“You might consider getting engaged to a handsome young man,” Mrs. Trilby said.
“Oh no, no! She’s not some fodder for your campaign engine,” The Duke chuckled. “Unless there is a man you deem worthy? I should like to meet him.”
“None yet father. I am focusing on the family business. I’m only two years out of school,” Mary Ruth said. “As you like to say: Rome was not built in a day.”
Her father smiled, activated one of his subtle calming aura abilities, then shrugged.
A true politician.
“Fine fine. I trust your judgement. Yet there is a lesson to be learned from moving too slowly. Not all empires last my girl. You cannot build a better future alone,” He said. “Many fathers dread the day their little girls fall in love and bring a husband into the family. I cannot await the day! Someone that exceeds your expectations will be truly worthy of joining our legacy.”
“With the Duke taking on a higher stage, the company must be spotless. I have here a list of certain parties that should not come to the forefront.” Mrs. Trilby handed her a slim folder.
Mary Ruth peaked at it quickly then held it in her lap.
There are board members on this list. And there are family members on this list. I am already putting them off, the business needs to stay legitimate.
“There are countless bad ideas, I assess them and reject them if they are not best for the company,” Mary Ruth said. “If an idea is good for the company then delayed action due to politics may not be in our best interest.”
Mrs Trilby stared at her for a moment and Mary Ruth held her gaze.
“This list has been drafted after careful considerations. Any delays on our part are going to be temporary. Certain favors are due that can ensure our associates interests are given due attention,” The Duke said.
“It must be a banner year. A new product, increased revenue, additional hiring or charity works would be ideal,” Mrs Trilby said. “Something the papers will love.”
“I have been preparing a few initiatives that I believe will make good press,” Mary Ruth said.
“See that some of your subsidiaries help as well, it’s good for them to get experience and a little favor goes a long way,” Mrs. Trilby said.
“When I built this company, times were different. Business was old school back then. We sent you to Pandect to learn the new school and build lasting connections,” The Duke said. “It’s time to shake those trees and see what falls out. Lots of people are going to want their voices heard when they hear the news.”
Mrs Trilby nodded to the folder in Mary’s lap.
“Take no immediate actions yet. For now stay out of the limelight and stay the course,” She said. “By the end of the week we will have our backers in a row and the Duke will make his announcement.”
-
Mary Ruth watched her father’s limo roar off down the expressway. It blew past a trolly and a commercial truck then turned down 5th street.
This doesn’t change anything today. The board meeting needs to happen.
She opened the folder of names again.
Spencer, Chapman, Mouch, Hooper. Those four have been pushing for the improved munition gin. How is that bad for the company?
“Ms. Cramer?” Andrew called. “Your driver is absent.”
She tucked her folder under her arm and strode to her car. It was black like her father’s but the similarities stopped there. A friend from school had recommended the vehicle as a graduation present. His family manufactured them, making only 25 a year. They were far from luxurious, with an open cab, and seats only for two. Remarkably, it sported an engine in the back that was partially exposed for ventilation. Its high fenders and undercarriage easily cleared the trolley rails. She had taken it over the rough gravel public roads while testing it out.
The hood of the vehicle lifted forwards on hinges to gain access to the spacious trunk at the front of the vehicle.
Almost all the other cars of the time had the engine in the front and a storage compartment in the back.
“Get in.” She said sliding the folder behind the passenger’s seat. She walked around to get in on the drivers side and Andrew scrambled around the front of the car to open the door for her.
“Really?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s polite,” Andrew said quickly. “What would you have me do? Sit on the hood and wait for you to climb in?”
“I’ve see worse hood ornaments,” she said.
She pushed past him and unhooked her sword from her belt. It fit snugly into the Johnny sling behind the driver’s seat.
Andrew shut her door after she climbed in and he walked around the front of the car to the passenger side.
I could startle him with the horn. But that would be un-ladylike.
“Now you are making us late Andrew.” She said as she put on some soft leather gloves.
“Apologies Ms. Cramer.” He said, climbing into the fine leather passenger seat. “What kind of car is this? I’ve never seen one like it.”
“It is a personal car for the sport of driving.” Said Mary Ruth proudly. “Someday all the finest sportsmen will have one.”
She pressed the plunger to start the engine and the rear of the car rumbled to life.
“Hold on tight. We have a stop to make downtown before the board meeting this afternoon.”
-
A History of Divine gifts in Europe and the Impact of Organized Religion on the Metaphysical Growth of Humanity - By: Houghton Mifflin, Pandect Scholar
Dating back to the first Mage King, Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Church maintained a monopoly on status screens and formalizing RPG-style classes. Until the North American continent was discovered to be outside of divine provinence.
1. The Carolingian Renaissance a Magical Golden Age (800–900 AD)
Charlemagne’s empire became the first structured magical society. They developed illuminated texts to record and guide the development of skills and abilities.
Priests and scholars transcribed individual status sheets, leading to the first systematic study of RPG-style classes.
Knightly Orders emerged with codified warrior abilities, enhancing combat effectiveness.
The Holy Roman Church became the sole authority on status growth, making monasteries the center of both religious and magical training.
2. The Holy Roman Empire Controls Magical Advancement (900–1100 AD)
The Empire’s elite refine the class system, formalizing roles we use today.
Magical literacy was restricted to the nobility and clergy, deepening feudal divides.
Neighboring kingdoms (France, England, Byzantium) struggle to match the Holy Roman Empire’s power, leading to political unrest.
3. The Magus Crusades (1096–1291 AD)
Muslim scholars, who were already more advanced in mathematics and science, established their own magical theories, leading to rival magical traditions in the Middle East.
The Pope called for Crusades for land and for magical dominance of the known world.
European armies were equipped with blessed spells, divine shields, and enchanted siege weapons.
4. The Great Magus War (1337–1453)
France and England field elite magic-wielding knights.
Siege warfare included mana-powered trebuchets, warded castles, and battle-mages.
Peasant rebellions occur as magic-based inequalities widen.
5. The Renaissance of Magic and Technology (1400–1500s)
Alchemy, engineering, and spell craft solidified as formal trades with their own guilds.
Leonardo da Vinci and other polymaths explored mana-powered machines. They ultimately decide that mana is not a sustainable power source without the church’s backing.
Magical machines failed to take hold as the church believed them to be a subversion of Gods design for humanity.
6. The Age of Exploration (1500–1600s)
The discovery that individuals in the Americas could access their status sheets freely triggered a desperate race for control.
Spain, Portugal, France, England, and the Holy Roman Empire all competed to colonize high-mana zones.
Church-backed expeditions aimed to convert native peoples, fearing their independent control of magic.