Women textile mill in London (RJ Mathieu).

Women textile mill in London (RJ Mathieu).

Yesterday was my eighth birthday. That day I laid in bed thinking about it. It would be my second year working at the mill. My mother also worked there, while my brothers and sisters stayed at home. I contemplate staying in bed an extra five minutes to cherish the earth and comfort of my rough wool sheets, but I push that thought aside. The manager would not care if it was my birthday or the day or my death. If I was late, I would be beaten. Or worse, fired. My family depended on every source of income we had. We barely scraped by with my father's wages and mine. In a couple years, my sisters Elizabeth, and  Alexander would join me here. Looking back at it however, we had been lucky. There had been a time where we would had no job at all. My father would be lucky if he got hired as a farm hand or a coal miner. Now he was a clerk, overseeing the work. Now we all worked together due to the improvements in spinning and the new use of the water power. My masters now make more money which makes them very happy, and according to father, it makes us happy as well. My mother used to help oversee the spinning of the wool, but one day her sleeve got caught in the machine. She begin to scream, but the machine stops for no one. I watched as her arm seemed to be eaten by the rotating spindles. My dad grabbed her by the waist and pulled with all his might. Her arm came out, but not her hand. The room had grown awfully quiet and the manager, seeing the disturbance, came to investigate. Seeing my mom, he was surprisingly unsurprised. This kind of action must happen a lot, but it was the first time i had seen it. The manager first looked at the bloodied material. A whole days worth, ruined. Then he glanced at my mom. Seeing her, a look of disgust crept across his evil features. Without a second glance, he told her that she was no longer needed at the mill. He turned around to go yell at a group of girls to get back to work. As he walked past he gave my father a respectful look, and told him to take care of her. Now my mother worked at home, taking care of my younger siblings, making meals, and grew a small garden. All the workers knew the risks that came with the new technology, but we also knew that without it, we would have to do twice the amount of laborious work. Also, the technology brought many new jobs. Dozens of mills popped up, along with thousands of jobs. All around people were given more jobs. The economy grew my father told me, and everything improved. I asked about the chances of me ending up like mommy, but he just shook his head. He told me that she was lucky he was there, and that I have to be careful. When I asked about the risk, he simply answered that the money was worth it. I think about the 364 days until my next birthday, and think about the labor, dangers, and long hours. I guess the pay outweighed the risk. I'd rather get eaten by a machine than slowly die from the inside.