Silo 49: Deep Dark

Chapter Nine

Unfortunately for Taylor, he was the youngest and strongest of the people who could be permitted to know about the secret contents of the watch at that moment. He had come down into the room when summoned so that he could also hear her story. Of the three watching her, she sensed from him an almost shivery excitement. He may work in IT, but he clearly had a streak of Historian inside him, just a more passionate version.

When the little group realized that the papers were more than sixty levels down and hidden beneath a floor tile and that they couldn’t simply ask anyone to get it because of the contents, they had all looked at Taylor. His groan was loud enough to make even Piotr smile.

There was no question of getting someone else to fetch it, since the plastic she had folded over the papers was transparent. It was equally clear that the others had no intention of waiting until Marina was well enough to go back to her home and return. While she was resigned to the loss of her vacation at this point, she was not about to spend the rest of it being ported up and down the stairs.

Going down sixty levels was do-able for someone like Taylor, but coming back would need to be broken up and they decided that he would leave early the next day and then stay overnight in a room at the bazaar. That brightened him a little. Marina thought that Taylor was probably considering a very late night of entertainment, sampling the delights of the bazaar once the lights went from white to red in the dim time.

He was young and unwed so such enticements were probably something he dreamed of on a regular basis but had little chance to enjoy at such a distance. Those delights were legendary and she stifled a grin at the look in his eyes. The day after he would start back and drop the items off at the Memoriam on Level 72.

Taylor excused himself so he could get his things together and find someone to feed his cat while he was gone and the three were left alone again in that old scene of destruction. Despite the evidence of burning and smashed things, it was not an unpleasant place. It had the air of a place whose time had come and gone. A place truly empty and waiting for the next time it was needed was what it felt like to her. Marina rather liked it, moldering heaps of ash and all.

Greta, of course, absolutely refused to speculate on what the contents of the letter and picture might mean and was rather firm with Piotr when he started to do so. Once she reached the point of actually tsking him, he stopped although Marina could see he was almost itching to talk more on the subject.

The historian did admit that they had almost nothing that paralleled what Marina reported, though they did have a few partial entries from the corners of the pages in those volumes that weren’t completely consumed by fire.

As for her, Piotr and Greta assured her that remediation was not in her future. Remediation was to prevent damage to self and others, not for thinking about things. Marina remained a bit leery of simply accepting that. There was nothing she could do about it if they were misleading her so she decided she would gain nothing by worrying about it. Given that she had at least two days until they would reconvene, three if she allowed them a day to examine the articles for any initial findings, they recommended she continue her vacation.

It seemed too easy. Could she really find and then attempt to hide something so contradictory to all that they knew and then just go on vacation? It was absurd. But, then again, what about this entire situation wasn’t completely absurd? Porters were called again for a person transport, much to her chagrin, and she began her long trip back down to the hotel.

It was late, the landing lights dimmed with only the red lights to provide some scant illumination. There was hardly any traffic at all now, third shift being the lightest manned. Every step sounded louder on the metal of the stairs than it did during the bustle of the day.

Marina took the time to think about her situation and how she should best handle it. She was under strict instructions—ones that she had agreed to abide by—to keep all the information she had to herself. She had found it difficult to agree at first, bristling at the thought of so much being hidden from the rest of the silo.

Greta and Piotr had understood her reservations and had patiently explained it all to her. In the end, it made too much sense for her not to agree with them. And they both hinted at more to be revealed. That was the problem with secrets. They were delicious and gave a certain pleasure when one shared in one, but that also encouraged more secrets. That bred dishonesty in its turn.

The Historian had been forthright and Marina sensed nothing at all dishonest in either her intent or her actions, merely caution. The secret rooms, the evidence within clearly pointing toward a deliberate destruction of some vast knowledge, were a source of disorder and insecurity for as long as the reason for the destruction was not known.

History was made of facts and it should remain as objective as possible. In the case of the burned books and maps one was led to two very different possibilities. Either the First Heroes that were the basis of their way of life had destroyed it purposely because it was dangerous to them or it was destroyed by the Others that tried to destroy humanity within the silo during the battle.

One could pick either scenario and make a case for it with a multitude of variations. But one could not be sure either was correct. What might occur if one chose wrongly in the deep future? If people decided that the enemies had destroyed the things and worked to repair them, but the truth was the reverse, what would the people unleash? And to add even more uncertainty, what if one part of this was destroyed by the Heroes and another part destroyed by Others?

These arguments, and others besides, had come from Greta with an earnestness that won Marina over and made it impossible for her to disagree. She evaluated her own motives and found that curiosity, an entirely personal curiosity that thought nothing of the well-being of others, was her true motive. She felt ashamed and had agreed to the condition.

When the porters lowered her chair to the floor of the hotel lobby, she gave them each her gratitude and a generous tip, took her bag and allowed one of them to escort her to her room. She was bone tired as she opened the door quietly. Inside, the room was dark save for the small sleep light that cast more shadows than light. Her husband and daughter were in their respective beds and it felt so good to be in their presence again she wanted to cuddle with them both and sleep for days.

In the dim recesses of the sleeping cubby that cradled her daughter, Marina could just make out the pale gleam of an out flung arm and the dark pool of her hair against the white pillow. On the other side of the partition, Joseph lay only on one side the bed, the side he had always taken in their years together. He, too, was fast asleep and the noise of his breathing, though not quite a snore, came across in the silence.

She stepped into the bathroom and got ready for bed. When she emerged in her undershirt with freshly brushed teeth and another dose of her pills swallowed, she saw that her husband was sitting up in bed, though he hadn’t turned on any lights. She put a finger to her lips, pointed to where Sela slept and crept on tiptoes to slide in next to her husband.

He kissed her quickly on the lips, the kind of kiss that is more a reassurance than a true kiss, and asked, “What was all that? Don’t tell me it was the reclamation either.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” she whispered back with a bit of sarcasm in her tone.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m very glad to see you, but when I saw you last the mood was so thick you could bottle it for sauce. What happened?”

Marina smiled at him and brushed his cheek with her palm. “It really was about the reclamation and some of the items that are getting sent down. It seems a good many have historical value beyond their metal. But they must be chosen carefully so we don’t wind up saving it all rather than melting it down. It just took a while and not everyone agreed on what to do.” It was a sort of truth. Strangely enough, Marina didn’t feel at all bad about what she said so she knew it must be right.

They were silent for a moment while Marina enjoyed the warmth of the bed and her sleep heated husband. She considered how different her next few days would be from their plan and how best to get that news out of the way. She turned to look at him in the dim light and gave him a kiss just a little better than one he had given her.

She said, “Instead of all the other things, I’m going down to the Memoriam. I’m going to get a quick lesson on what is important and what isn’t so I’ll be able to manage the deliveries. I’ll be able to meet you by the time you get to your mother’s again.”

“Hmph,” came his quiet reply after a few beats. He slid down into the bed and got comfortable. He held out his arm so she might snuggle into him and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. They were quiet for a moment. “Well, if that is what you’re sticking with there must be a reason so I’ll ask you no more about it.”

She kissed his shoulder where her head lay and whispered, “Thank you. I love you.”