Chapter 3
This was a precision job, and honestly, it was my signature move.
Whenever it was my turn, I could wrap it up in half an hour, thanks to my years of experience and a knack for it, and the results always blew the standard out of the water.
Today, Princeton came to me again, and this time, he was a lot more polite.
"Bailey, about that sensor..." he said.
"Sure thing, Princeton," I nodded, grabbing a thick copy of the Sensor Standard Calibration Procedures Manual from the cabinet.
With the manual open in front of me, I started going through it one step at a time.
First, I connected the wires, checked the grounding, fired up the calibration software, and punched in the initial parameters...
I tackled every single step with obsessive precision, moving so slow it'd make anyone want to tear their hair out. I could practically feel Princeton's patience wearing thin behind me.
Adrien Robinson was right next to me, so impatient that he was practically stomping his feet.
"Bailey, this isn't how you usually do it. For the zero-point drift, you can just touch the casing and pretty much nail the temperature," he said.
"Adrien," I replied without even looking up, "the manual says to use an infrared thermometer, take three readings, and average them. Just sticking to the manual here."
Adrien let out a sigh, couldn't even find the words.
Two hours later, the clock hit five, and the end-of-shift bell rang again.
I was just one step away from finishing the calibration. All that was left was to finalize the data.
"Bailey! Just one more minute, please! Save the data before you go!" Princeton was practically begging.
I took off my goggles and switched off the equipment.
"Sorry, Princeton, but it's time to clock out. The manual says no operating precision instruments after hours to avoid safety incidents," I said.
With that, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and clocked out right on time, with everyone left stunned behind me.
Behind me, I heard Jaxson's voice, practically shaking with suppressed fury.
"Bailey!"
I didn't even bother to turn around, but a cold smirk tugged at my lips.
Mr. Flores, this was just the appetizer.
That evening, I had just walked through the door when Adrien's call came in almost immediately.
His voice was thick with worry.
"Bailey, you can't keep this up... Mr. Flores is going to make things tough for you. You can't beat him. He's got powerful connections," Adrien said.
"Adrien," I said, popping open the fridge and grabbing an ice-cold Coke, "he's already made things as tough for me as he can. What else is there to be afraid of?"
"But what about the production line? Our mentor poured his whole life into this place. We can't just let all that go to waste," Adrien said.
Just hearing him mention our mentor made my chest tighten.
I was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Adrien, sometimes, to protect something, you have to make the ones trying to destroy it feel some pain first."
After hanging up, I took a sip of my Coke. The cold liquid slid down my throat, but it couldn't put out the fire burning inside me.
In just one week, Shop Three's production efficiency plummeted, crashing down by a staggering thirty percent.
The defect rate skyrocketed, hitting an unprecedented fifteen percent.
The whole workshop was chaos: glitches everywhere, alarms blaring one after another, like some discordant symphony gone off the rails.
The other engineers were running themselves ragged. They could handle the usual glitches, but when it came to the A-7's core system, they were totally out of their depth.
Roger was always the first to jump in whenever something went wrong, but more often than not, he'd turn a minor issue into a major headache, and a major headache into a complete shutdown.
Everyone in the workshop was fed up, but nobody dared to say a word.
Jaxson looked more pissed off with every passing day.
Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and called an emergency meeting for all the engineers.
The conference room was thick with smoke, the air so heavy you could cut it with a knife.
Jaxson sat at the head of the table, his fingers pounding on the surface.
"Take a good look at yourselves! Look at what you've turned this place into! Productivity's in the gutter, and we're buried in junk! You've trashed this factory's reputation!" he shouted.
His gaze cut through everyone in the room, cold and merciless.
He barked, "I know some of you are pulling tricks behind the scenes, complaining about the new rules. But let me tell you. If we want this company to survive, we need iron discipline.
"Starting now, I expect everyone to show some dedication, pull extra shifts, and claw back every bit of lost output!"
He paused, his eyes finally drilling into me like two poisoned nails.
"Bailey! You're the only senior engineer here, the pillar of our tech team. You need to lead by example!" he snapped.
He was cornering me, making it clear he wanted to see me squirm.
Everyone's eyes snapped back to me.
I coolly met his stare, pushing up my glasses.
"Mr. Flores," I said.
My voice wasn't loud, but in the dead silence of the conference room, it rang out clear as day.
"The Labor Law says if you want us working overtime, you've got to pay us overtime wages. On holidays, that means triple pay. On weekends, you either give us time off or pay double. That's the rule," I said.