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SNAP!
Holy shit!
For the next five seconds, everything happened in slow motion. The overhead chain snapped with a metallicCLINK, sending pieces of the broken link everywhere. At the same time, the crucible spun wildly to one side.
Lucky for me, I dove in the direction of the other.
“AAAAAHHHHH!”
The crucible smacked into the mold, shattering it instantly. As it spun to the floor, a thick tongue of molten bronze flew from it in a strange but beautiful arc. It splashed against the wall, the floor, even the sides of the induction assembly. Then it just hung there, dripping the last remnants of what would’ve been the metal for my statue…
… now nothing more than a heap of glowing slag, gathering on the foundry floor.
Oh MY GOD!
I wasn’t sure what frightened me more, that I almost scalded myself to death in a freak accident or that the material I’d saved up for so long to purchase was lying there wasted and useless. My mold was destroyed, and with it, any hope of finishing the project. And even worse...
“Oh fuck no…”
Even worse, the crucibleitselfwas cracked from one side to the other.
My heart sank. I sat there wringing my hands, looking up at the casting ladle assembly. Everything looked good. Normal. Everything except the broken chains, which for some reason…
“Ohno.”
The chains themselves had been too small. Way too small in fact, for the amount of material I was using to cast my piece.
I was angry at myself for being this careless, but only for a moment. I should’ve checked. I should’ve double-checked…
Only youdidcheck. And you double-checked, too. Remember?
For a moment I forget about the smoldering mess all around me. Instead I just sat there and blinked.
Ihadchecked the chain mechanism. I’d checked it last time I was in here, and double-checked it before even beginning my melt.
Somehow though, the chains had been swapped out. The larger, safer chain had been traded for a smaller, less durable, more easily adjusted—
“SLOANE!”
I whirled, and was shocked to see someone running toward me. Mark’s face was absolutely frantic. He skidded over to where I was, and joined me on the floor.
“Are you hurt?” he shouted. “Did you get any of it on you, or—”
“I’m okay,” I breathed. “I’m fine.”
Mark being at the foundry at this hour was astounding enough. But him being backhere, in the pouring area? Where I just happened to be working?
“Sloane,” he said looking around. “What did you… what did you justdo?”
My co-workers voice had gone from concerned to accusatory. In all the time it took to blink.
“Where’s your spotter?” he cried.
“My who?”
“Your assistant!” he went on. “The one you promised the old man you’d use every night you came here?”
I felt sick. Like I was going to throw up.
