The main transformer yard at Haven-Hold smelled of hot lamp-wax oil, fresh asphalt, and spark-charged air.
Giles Croft stood on the gravel apron forty paces from the main step-up vault.
He held a six-foot spun-glass hot-stick in his gloved hands. His eyes were locked on the dual needles of the station voltmeter.
Around him, the low afternoon sun glinted off fifty massive fine china insulator metal sleeves.
Each bushing was taller than a grown man, ribbed like the backbone of some ancient sea creature.
Below the metal sleeves sat three oil-cooled step-up transformers, each the size of a two-story cottage.
Master Borin Bronze-Lung stood on the concrete dike surrounding Transformer One, checking the oil sight-glass with a greasy copper wrench.
“Forty thousand gallons of naphthenic transformer oil,” Borin called down.
