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Sunlight flooded the cabin as the plane changed course. It was a bright, Clear morning. Robyn looked out of the window as England slid slowly by beneath them: cities and towns, their street plans like printed circuits, scattered over a mosaic of tiny 5. fields, connected by the thin wires of railways and motorways. Hard to imagine at this height all the noise and commotion going On down there. Factories, shops, offices, schools, beginning the Working day. People crammed into rush hour buses and trains, or Sitting at the wheels of their cars in traffic jams, or washing up 6. breakfast things in the kitchens of pebble-dashed semis. All inhabiting their own little worlds, oblivious of how they fitted into the total picture. The housewife, switching on her electric kettle to make another cup of tea, gave no thought to the immense complex of operations that made that made that simple action 7. Possible: the building and maintenance of the power station that Produced the electricity, the electricity, the mining of coal or pumping of oil to fuel the generators, the laying of miles of cable to carry the current to her house, the digging and smelting and milling of ore or bauxite into sheets of steel or aluminum, the cutting and 8. Pressing and welding of the metal into the kettle’s shell, spout And handle, the assembling of these parts with scores of other Components – coils, screws, nuts, bolts, washers, rivets, wires, Springs, rubber insulation, plastic trimmings; then the packaging Of the kettle, the advertising of the kettle, the marketing of the 9. Kettle to wholesale and retail outlets, the transportation of the Kettle to warehouses and shops, the calculation of its price, and The distribution of its added value between all the myriad people And agencies concerned in its production. The housewife gave No thought to all this as she switched on her kettle. Neither had 10. Robyn until this moment, and it would never have occurred to Her to do so before she met Vic Wilcox.
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