Building a Conglomerate in Another World

December 15, 1899 — Westfield Industrial Corridor, Central Amerathia

The thunder of progress was not made by speeches or headlines, but by the low, constant roar of machinery echoing across the plains.

In the heart of Central Amerathia, just outside the city of Westfield, the landscape had changed dramatically in just two years. What had once been wheatfields and cattle barns was now a horizon of brick kilns, turbine towers, smokestacks, and humming conveyor belts. The Westfield Industrial Corridor—an extension of Hesh Corporation's vast manufacturing network—spanned nearly seven square miles, making it one of the largest integrated production zones in the nation.

Trucks and railcars rolled in every hour, bringing ore, timber, rubber, and glass. From this sprawling matrix emerged steel girders, automobile frames, washing machines, plow tractors, water pumps, and electrical cabinets—every piece of equipment needed for a nation on the rise.

Inside the main steel foundry, molten iron gushed like lava down cast-iron trenches, glowing a fierce orange before solidifying in long slabs that hissed and steamed. The temperature near the pouring furnaces made every breath feel like inhaling fire. But the men here—many of them former soldiers or coal miners—moved with speed and certainty. Sweat streaked their faces, but their hands were steady.

On the north side of the facility, the turbine house was nearing completion. Massive dynamos, still partially sheathed in oil-cloth coverings, had been imported from overseas and mounted on reinforced concrete bases. When fully operational, they would provide power not just for the industrial corridor, but for surrounding towns. Electrification was no longer a dream—it was becoming the new normal.

"You see this?" shouted foreman Jeb Tucker, gesturing toward a row of turbine coils. "In six weeks, we won't just be melting steel—we'll be lighting up every barn, bakery, and boarding house from here to Emerson's Hill."

The workers cheered.

Nearby, the assembly floor for the new Model 9D automobile was fully staffed. Unlike its predecessor, the 9D came equipped with a four-cylinder engine and was designed with interchangeable components—an innovation that halved repair times and made it possible to stock parts across every rail-linked garage in the country.

Lucy Hayworth, a former schoolteacher who had taken a position in the quality control department, inspected each finished unit with an eye sharper than any foreman's. She tapped on rivets, examined welds, checked axle alignment, and made notations with a red pencil.

"Any missing bolt, any loose nut—you tag it," she told the newer inspectors. "These aren't just machines. These are someone's wages, someone's farm road, someone's lifeline."

Across the yard, another facility focused on appliance manufacturing. Rows of chrome-trimmed refrigerators and cast-iron cooking stoves were tested, boxed, and loaded into trucks. Labels read: HESH HOME APPLIANCES — Reliable Comfort for Every Household.

December 15, 1899 — Westfield Civic District

Just beyond the industrial corridor lay Westfield's expanding residential belt. Entire neighborhoods had emerged from the dust, populated with modest but comfortable brick homes, narrow gardens, and tree-lined streets.

At the newly completed Westfield Elementary, second-grade teacher Clara Benson stood in front of her class, explaining how electricity worked.

"Before these lights," she said, pointing to the bright bulbs overhead, "we used oil lamps and candles. But now we have turbines that turn steam into motion—and that motion into light."

A boy near the front raised his hand. "Do the turbines work like trains?"

"Very similar," Clara said with a smile. "But instead of pulling cars, they push currents."

The children gasped as the class bell rang—powered, for the first time, by an electric switchboard installed just last month.

A few blocks away, the Westfield Public Library hosted a new mechanical reading room, where typewritten materials and engineering journals arrived weekly from the capital. Schoolboys, apprentices, and newly hired draftsmen pored over blueprints and technical guides, their fingers blackened by ink and charcoal.

Down on Market Street, vendors sold hot rolls, pickled carrots, and coal-heated meat pies. A storefront marked "Westfield Cooperative Hardware" offered tools, bolts, and discounted stoves for factory workers. Signs in the window read: HESH PRODUCTS AVAILABLE — PAY IN INSTALLMENTS.

December 16, 1899 — Westfield Freight Terminal

At the edge of the complex, a sprawling rail depot linked Westfield to every major production hub from the coast to the frontier. Massive cranes lifted steel crates onto flatbed cars. Conductors shouted dispatch codes as schedules were chalked onto blackboards hung from overhead beams.

A group of Hesh Corporation logistics officers reviewed route maps, coordinating deliveries to clinics, grain depots, and school construction sites. No cargo was wasted. No space left unused.

A junior logistics clerk, barely twenty, looked up from his ledger.

"Director Emerson says we're routing sixty percent more freight than last year."

"Then we'd best not lose track of a single crate," replied his supervisor.

December 17, 1899 — Office of the Regional Industrial Commission

Up in the brick headquarters near the municipal water tower, the local planning board met with Hesh Corporation representatives to discuss the coming year.

"The North Ridge Foundry is requesting two hundred more workers," one official said. "Housing is reaching capacity. We'll need another block by spring."

"We can have blueprints ready by January," replied a Hesh architect.

Another commission member spoke. "What about the arts school? The governor's asking if the Cultural Guild will have space next to the vocational institute."

"We've already allocated the land. Cultural growth follows industrial strength. We're not just building smokestacks—we're building identity."

December 18, 1899 — Presidential Office, Washington, D.C.

Back in the capital, President Matthew Hesh stood before a massive board covered in photos, reports, and rail diagrams. Each pushpin represented a complex like Westfield—thriving, self-replicating hubs of industry, education, and social infrastructure.

Amber joined him, carrying a stack of new letters.

"From Westfield," she said. "One's from a girl named Josie who wants to study engineering. She included a drawing of a turbine she made in school."

Matthew took the letter, opened it, and studied the pencil sketch.

"She's better than half the draftsmen I've worked with."

Amber smiled. "Should I write back?"

Matthew nodded. "Tell her there'll be a scholarship waiting. The future's arriving on steel wheels, and we need conductors to drive it."

Outside, the afternoon sun glinted off the dome of the Capitol. In the distance, train horns sang across the city.