Buying a Factory and the Prelude to the Automobile Production

October 25th, 1880.

The rhythmic chug of the train filled the carriage as Matthew settled into his seat, the countryside of Amsterdam gradually blurring into fields and clusters of trees. The landscape was dotted with windmills and farmhouses, each passing moment bringing him closer to Sylvania, where his ambitious plans would take shape.

The train whistle blared, jolting him from his reverie as the town of Sylvania came into view. Its sprawling industrial sector stood out, with smoke rising from the chimneys of various factories. As the train slowed to a halt at the bustling platform, Matthew disembarked and took a moment to absorb the sights and sounds of Sylvania. Merchants shouted their wares, factory whistles signaled the end of shifts, and workers moved purposefully, their faces lined with the grit of a day's labor.

Determined to find the right place for his venture, Matthew set off toward the industrial district. The streets were lined with imposing brick buildings. He scrutinized each one, noting the size, condition, and activity level, mentally cataloging their potential.

After hours of walking and speaking with foremen and building managers, Matthew came upon an expansive factory at the edge of the district. Unlike the others, this one was quiet, its doors shut and its chimney dormant. A weathered sign read Hollis Engineering Works, faded from years of exposure to sun and rain. The structure itself was robust, its tall windows promising ample light and the interior space cavernous enough to house assembly lines and machinery.

Matthew stepped inside, greeted by the echo of his footsteps across the empty concrete floor. The building was in surprisingly good condition, its iron beams sturdy, and the air devoid of the dampness that plagued older structures. He could almost picture the factory bustling with workers, the gleam of engines being assembled, and the hum of productivity filling the space.

"Perfect," he murmured, a determined smile spreading across his face.

He approached a desk near the entrance, where old ledgers and abandoned tools lay scattered. Glancing through the papers, he noted the factory had been closed due to mismanagement and debts that had left it vacant for years—a potential boon for an investor willing to breathe new life into it.

"So, what do you think?" asked a voice from behind.

Matthew turned to see a man in a well-worn suit and a bowler hat standing in the doorway. 

"It's impressive," Matthew replied. "But I need to know how much it would cost to rent this place."

The agent stepped inside, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete. He glanced around, taking in the vast expanse of the factory floor and the high ceilings. "This facility hasn't seen use in years, as you might have gathered. The owners are eager to see it occupied again."

"And the cost?" Matthew prompted, crossing his arms as he awaited the answer.

The agent rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Given its current state and the fact that the owners want it off their books, I'd say we could start at six hundred florin a month. But," he added with a shrewd glint in his eye, "there is room for negotiation if you're considering long-term leasing or purchasing outright."

"Is the property available for purchase?" Matthew asked.

The agent's brows lifted slightly, clearly intrigued by the question. "It is. For ownership, the current asking price is twenty thousand florin, but I believe I could persuade the owners to bring it down to fifteen thousand if you're prepared to make an offer quickly."

Matthew knew that this was just a negotiation tactic by the agent. He believed that this factory cost about 15,000 florin, not twenty, to make him think that he actually saved some money.

"I'm willing to offer twelve thousand florin," he said, his voice firm as he met the agent's eyes. The room was silent for a moment as the agent absorbed the offer, a hint of tension creeping into the space.

The agent's lips thinned into a tight line as he shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid the owners would not entertain an offer that low, sir. However, I can speak to them about fourteen thousand five hundred florin. That is as far as I believe they would go."

 "Thirteen thousand," he stated, watching the agent's expression shift.

The agent let out a small sigh and nodded, extending his hand with a smile. "Deal. Thirteen thousand florin it is. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hesh."

Matthew shook the agent's hand firmly. "I intend to." 

***

A day later, October 26th, 1880.

Matthew met with the agent once more, this time with a contract in hand, neatly bound with the agent's company seal. 

"Here we are," the agent said, tapping the contract lightly. "This document outlines the terms of the purchase and details regarding the property itself."

Matthew nodded, taking a seat as he opened the contract. The first few pages laid out the terms of payment, transfer of ownership, and a timeline for finalizing the transaction. He flipped through the pages methodically until he found the specifications for the factory.

"Factory Specifications," read the section header in bold script. Below it, the details were meticulously documented:

Total Area: 5,000 square meters.

Height: 12 meters at the central ceiling arch, tapering to 10 meters at the sides.

Width: 60 meters.

Length: 83 meters.

Structural Support: Reinforced iron beams.

Windows: Tall, arched windows allowing ample natural light.

Flooring: Solid concrete, capable of supporting heavy machinery.

Additional Features: Three adjoining office rooms, a storage annex, and a small foundry area at the rear.

Matthew traced his finger over the specs, envisioning the assembly lines, workstations, and machinery that would soon fill the space.

"Everything seems in order," Matthew said, closing the contract and looking up at the agent.

The agent, who had been watching him with a keen eye, smiled. "Good. If you're satisfied, we can proceed with signing and the transfer of ownership." He slid a pen across the table.

Matthew picked up the pen and signed the contract.

"Congratulations, Mr. Hesh," the agent said, shaking his hand once more. "You now own Hollis Engineering Works. May it bring you great success."

"Thank you," Matthew replied, a confident glint in his eyes. "It will."

***

October 30th, 1880.

Matthew watched as he hired 

teams from a local cleaning company set to work inside the factory. The air was filled with the sound of shuffling feet, the clatter of metal tools, and the scrape of old debris being cleared away. Workers, clad in simple overalls and caps, moved methodically through the space, discarding rusted tools, broken wooden crates, and stacks of outdated ledgers that had accumulated dust over the years.

"Make sure to clear out everything that's unsalvageable," Matthew instructed one of the supervisors, a stout man with a bristly mustache and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The supervisor nodded, shouting orders to the crew as they piled items into large, wheeled carts to be hauled away.

Matthew paced the length of the factory, taking mental notes of how much open space was being reclaimed. The floor, once cluttered with remnants of the factory's old life, was gradually revealing itself, a vast expanse of solid concrete ready to house the future he envisioned.

He stopped by one of the workers who was sweeping near the foundry area. "Be careful with that section," Matthew said, pointing to an old iron casting mold that looked salvageable. "We might be able to repurpose some of these."

The worker nodded, shifting his attention to moving the mold carefully to a corner for later inspection.

As the day wore on, the factory began to look less like a forgotten relic and more like a space full of potential. Piles of debris were carried out, leaving a cleaner, clearer view of the building's impressive structure. The iron beams overhead cast crisscrossing shadows on the floor, sturdy and steadfast as they held the building aloft.

With all of that settled, Matthew unfurled the blueprint carefully across an old workbench that had been cleared of dust and debris. The large sheet of paper crinkled as it spread open, revealing intricate sketches and detailed notes in precise handwriting. It was a blueprint for the first prototype of his automobile. 

The design of his future automobile would be similar to the 1930s because people in this era, especially the rich ones, loved aesthetics on everything they own. And he is going to give them the taste of transportation luxury.