He was a good welder. Great, even. He could run a 1G bead that looked like a stack of dimes laid out by a jeweler. But the overhead joint was his gremlin. Every time he struck an arc, gravity won. The puddle sagged, dripped, and left a ropy, slag-filled mess on the ceiling of the test plate.
The world narrowed to a brilliant white sun. The crackle of 6010 rod filled the silent shop. Sparks rained down around his shoulders like volcanic ash. He felt the heat on his neck. He smelled his own sweat. 4g position welding
Penetration was perfect. The fusion line was a clean, deep root. No cold lap. No porosity. He was a good welder