Ficly

Moirai, Inc.

Lachesis was appalled by the number that emerged from the spreadsheet. Capital and labour costs consumed virtually the entire budget for the next quarter, leaving the merest pittance for materials.

How does Zeus expect kings and heroes from polyester twine? she thought to herself.

Lachesis switched off the computer monitor and stepped out of the tiny office onto the catwalk overlooking the enormous machine that was the Loom, swarming with hundreds of labourers frantically weaving threads into the Tapestry.

She was appalled to see how quickly the Loom was growing to occupy the entire factory floor. She realized that in perhaps as little as a year they’d be forced to relocate again, a logistical nightmare that she and her sisters dreaded.

Lachesis sipped her tepid coffee and watched her sisters try to coordinate the chaos below. Nostalgia for the old days filled her, days when the three of them could sit together, chattering and weaving for hours on end, days when the Tapestry glowed with life.

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