It was still floating an inch off the floor so the cart pitched and yawed, bending the caster wheels of the cart as each corner of the cart individually bounced off the floor.
"Yoh! What the Hell, man!? Whose gonna fix that shit!" Harold said in a tone you could tell he could barely control, as he looked up from his newspaper. His first coffee cup of the morning still four-fifths full. He shot a look over his bifocals that would cast a pall over the rest of the day. His feet didn't move from his desk. "Chain that shit over in the corner. God dammit!"
The rest of us stood there, hearts sinking simultaneously. We all would have called in sick today if we saw today's invoice. Today we must install gravity thrusters. If the material escapes the container uncontrolled, it will expose the entire workshop that's not behind lead shielding.
The last time it happened, all the exposed materials, including people were forced away from the gravitational pull of the planet, the other gravitational forces in the solar system, the galaxy, and so-on. And so-on.
