The scream and roar of a gigantic foundry blasted our ears. On both sides of the scene towered the steel girder columns of the foundry walls, stretching deep into the background like the grim pillars of a satanic cathedral. Overhead cranes carried enormous blocks of metal with a ponderous gait. Smoke—black, white and fitfully flared with crimson from the furnaces, whirled around the tiny figures.
Two men stood before a gigantic casting. One, a foundryman in soiled overalls, made quick measurements which he called off to the other carefully checking a blueprint. Over the roar of the foundry the dialogue was curt and sharp:
"One hundred three point seven."
"Check."
"Short axis. Fifty-two point five."
"Check."
"Tangent on ovate diameter. Three degrees point oh five two."
"Check."
"What specifications for outer convolutions?"
"Y equals cosine X."