How the textile worker adapts

You’re a handweaver in 1780s England. Here’s the logical, internally connected Socratic chain, each step emerging from the last, no skipped leaps:

1. You observe: Orders are drying up. Merchants say they can buy machine-made cloth cheaper, faster.

You ask: “Will this pass, or is it permanent?” Then: “What causes their price advantage?” You learn: machines run constantly, with unskilled labor.

You ask: “If machines get better, will any customer still pay me?” Answer: almost none.

You realise: Your income will decay fast. Your skill is not scarce anymore.

Action: You sell your loom, materials, and finished goods before everyone else catches on—capturing maybe 30 pounds while they still have value. You preserve optionality.

2. You ask: “If I can no longer sell labor, how do I make money?” Then: “Where will the new money flow?” You note: the machines are in mills. Mills are attracting workers.

You ask: “What constrains mill expansion?” You notice: every mill is near a river. All use water wheels.

You realise: Water power is the new bottleneck.

Action: You scout undeveloped river land upriver from a growing mill town. You use your 30 pounds to lease a 30-year plot with water access from a local landlord. You pay 20 pounds up front and commit 1 pound/year rent. You don’t build yet—you hold.

3. You ask: “How will this land generate returns?” You watch: the nearest mill expands and sends scouts looking for new plots.

You realise: You control the only remaining viable water site in walking distance. You now have negotiating power.

Action: You sublease part of your land to the mill for 3 pounds/year. They build their extension. You retain the other half.

4. You ask: “Now that mills bring workers in, what do workers lack?” You walk the town. You see: ten men to a room, long food lines, and few stores.

You ask: “What service is most painful and persistent?” Answer: housing.

You realise: Providing clean, nearby lodging means recurring rent.

Action: You borrow 10 pounds (secured by your land lease and sublease revenue) from a Quaker lender. You build simple shared worker housing: wood, brick, tin roof. Each room rents at 6 pence/week. You fill them instantly.

5. You ask: “Now I have income. How do I protect and scale it?” You see: inventors approach mill owners with better looms, engines. Most are ignored—no one wants risk.

You ask: “What if I fund one of these inventors?” You find a 23-year-old trying to build a steam-powered shuttle driver.

You realise: You can trade capital for a percent of every license he sells—if it works. The downside: 10 pounds. The upside: you become a licensor to 50+ mills.

Action: You invest. You help him find his first buyers. It works. You earn 1 shilling per device sold.

6. You ask: “What ends empires like mine?” You study: land is expropriated. Riots destroy mills. Credit collapses.

You realise: Durable wealth lies in multiple bottlenecks.

Action: You expand: lease canal access for supply shipments, invest in coal shipping for steam, back two more inventors. You reduce direct exposure to any one sector.

By 1800, you’re not a weaver—you’re a landlord, housing supplier, licensor, and minor industrialist. Each step emerged from the last, driven by questions of “Where will value go next, and how do I own its constraint?”