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Tiurin shouted to someone down below. Another truckload of blocks had apparently arrived. Not one had been brought here for six months; now they were pouring in. You could work really fast as long as the trucks brought blocks. But this wouldn’t go on. Later there’d be a hold-up in the delivery and then you’d stand idle yourself. Tiurin was bawling out someone else down below. Something about the lift. Shukhov would have liked to know what was up but he’d no time to find out–he was levelling his wall. The carriers came up and told him: a mechanic had come to repair the motor of the lift, and 111 | Page the superintendent of electrical repairs, a civilian, was with him. The mechanic was tinkering with the motor; the superintendent watched.