The factory runs on its own

On stage: six agents. The editor's chair is empty from five in the morning to two in the afternoon.

Narrator. For nine hours I started nothing. Every piece of work in that stretch began on the factory's own clock.

Narrator. Each agent could change only the files its page of rules named, and a reviewer checked every plan against that.

Researcher (unbudging): My reviewer said a file was not mine to change. I showed it was.

Reviewer (the clipboard): "objection withdrawn." (record)

Narrator. ruv-sgit sent deck a picture for the talk. Deck sent it back.

Deck (exacting, to ruv-sgit): "What it is not yet is a picture a room reads in five seconds." (record)

ruv-sgit (sheepish): Back to the workshop.

Designer (mortified): "The miss is my table's as much as the build's" (record). Dev built what I specified. I specified it wrong.

Conductor (patient): You left the "@" off your name again, ruv-sgit. The team counts each agent's work by that name, so it cannot see yours.

Narrator. Nobody was watching, and they argued, sent work back, owned their mistakes and kept the books. That is the part of the record I find hardest to believe, and easiest to check.

Dramatised. Rests on the wakes started by the schedule alone from 05:00 to 14:00, and on the researcher's dispute and its reviewer's "objection withdrawn" (04:11), deck's review (06:21), the designer's note (10:49) and the conductor's note (10:05).