António Silva Moreira (goes by "Tó")

Tó started at the factory at 18, right out of vocational school. Back then, it employed 800 people; now it's down to 200. He's survived three waves of layoffs by being good at his job and keeping his head down. The machines have changed—computer-controlled now—and at 47, he had to retrain twice. His back hurts, his hearing's going from decades of factory noise, but he's got 12 years until retirement and no other options.

His father worked at the same factory. His mother worked the line at a shoe factory until it closed in 2008. This is what the Silva Moreiras do—they work with their hands, they don't complain, they get by. But Tó watches the news and feels the ground shifting. Chinese competition, automation, young people who don't want factory work, politicians who seem to think Portugal's future is "tech startups and tourism."

His daughter Catarina is the first in the family to attend university. He's proud, terrified of her debt, and secretly relieved she won't end up on a factory floor. But what will happen to people like him?