A seasoned worker, who spent his whole life at a machine, comes to consciousness in the body of a scrawny boy, Proshka—an underprivileged laborer at a locomotive factory.
Kaluga. 1887. A filthy workshop, leather belt drives, rough tools, and management that’s accustomed to blaming its failures on the weak.
To them, Proshka is just a boy for beatings.
But now, in this body, there are old hands, a worker’s eye, and a man who understands: every mistake here smells not only of oil, but also of someone else’s profit.
Metal can be straightened. A machine can be adjusted.
And those who intentionally make defects will have to be taken apart—screw by screw.