Monday, 18th April 1581.
The warm spring breeze blew through the desolate streets of Damascus, bringing with it the pungent smell of charcoal and smoke from the factories.
Although it was almost four in the morning, the factories continued to operate non-stop. After all, they couldn't help it. Most of the workers had already quit their jobs and were beginning to form worker unions.
These unions fought for the right to be paid fairly and to keep the jobs in the hands of humans and not machines. They had lived long enough under the oppression of the wealthy. And now they were making their stand.
Hence, the factory owners did not have any choice but to gather as enough people as possible and work overtime in order to meet the production quota.
Bryan stood on the empty street under the illumination of a flickering lamppost as he gazed toward the factory area. That region had a blanket of black smoke perpetually hovering above it.
Thanks for reading!