But couldn’t both be true? A job was a job, nothing more—not a family, not worth loyalty, much less love. Yet at the same time, a factory truly was like the world. It contained friendship and grace and catastrophe and victory and striving and romance and laughter and betrayal—if you knew to watch for those things. If you knew how to see those things, which not everyone did. When you were there, you were making whatever it was you were making, but you were also making a world exist.
