Silo 49: Deep Dark

Chapter Ten

She woke to Sela shaking her bed with a big smile on her face. “Mom! You’re back! Wakey wakey!”

Marina groaned, turned over and pulled the pillow over her head to drown out the light and noise but it was no use. Joseph wasn’t in bed, his spot cold as she reached for him. She could hear the shower going. That meant he had been up long enough to have already had his morning tea. He was useless without that and wouldn’t have even entertained the notion of a shower before having a cup. Sela was dressed and her hair was neatly braided into two long ropes. It was not yet pinned up around her head in the fashion she favored but she had surely been awake for a while given her general state of near readiness.

In response to more shakes of the bed, Marina tossed the pillow at her daughter and said, “I got in late. Can’t I have more sleep? Just a little while? Have pity on your poor old mother!”

Sela just laughed and said, “Sleep is for after vacation. Today we’re supposed to go Up Top, to see the view!”

“Oh, really. Don’t you mean you and your Dad?”

Her face lost that excited expression and she slumped in the exaggerated fashion only teens seem to be able to pull off, “I forgot. Aww.” She flopped down onto the bed, bouncing her mother in the process.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re still going to do it. I just won’t be going with you. I’ll survive without seeing it. If I really wanted to see a bunch of dirt blowing around I’d go watch when they do fan maintenance,” Marina replied, retrieving her pillow and plumping it up behind her head.

Joseph squeezed his tall frame through the door of the tiny bathroom. He was wearing a pair of shorts and his undershirt. With him he brought a cloud of steam and the delicious smells of good soap and clean man. Marina smiled at him.

“Finally,” Sela said, exasperated with all the waiting. “Mom is still broken so she isn’t coming with us.”

“Broken? Sela, since when are you reverting to baby speech?” Marina asked her.

“What else can I call it? Seriously.”

“She’s got a point,” Joseph broke in. He took out his clean set of coveralls from the bag left by the hotel laundry service. He held out the bag for Sela so she could get her things out. They were all checking out today. She took it and went around the partition, leaving her parents some semblance of privacy.

“You can come if you want. We’ll get porters,” he offered as he toweled off his hair.

Marina snorted. “That would be more chits than we’ll spend for the entire vacation. No, forget about that. I don’t need to see it that bad. If you can, find one of those artists that draw the view with colors. Find a nice one and just bring me that, if you like.” She thought for a moment and added, “But only if the cost is reasonable.”

Joseph hung the towel to dry on the rod their privacy curtain hung from and then hopped onto the bed and bumped his cold wet head into her neck, eliciting a shocked combination of giggle and squeal. He laughed at her but it faded quickly and he asked, “How are you this morning. Any better?”

“I’m doing much better. Sore, but better. I’ve got my pills and I’ll be fit soon enough.”

“Well,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and standing up to dress, “I think a picture is a good idea anyway. A memento. I’ll find something nice for the compartment. Are you still going to the Memoriam?”

She nodded. “I am. I’ve actually got a room there waiting.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “So you’ll be sleeping with Historians tonight?”

She made a sound of disgust and heard a remarkably similar sound emanate from the area beyond the partition.

“I’m only joking!” Joseph exclaimed, his eyes round with mock innocence.

“Anyway, I’ll get to spend some time piddling around the area and see the kind of artifacts they are looking for.” At his expression, Marina explained, “If I know what they already have, then I’ll know when I see something that looks new.”

“Ah, I see.” The look on his face told Marina he didn’t really see at all but was letting it slide.

“Anyway, I’ll enjoy it. Getting a personal tour and all of that. I’ll do some shopping at a couple of places and then go to your mother’s. It will be fine,” she promised him.

“Hmm,” he murmured, not entirely convinced and certainly not pleased to have a family vacation become a split adventure.

“Kiss me, you idiot, and then go get your daughter and wife some breakfast. Tea, too.”

He kissed her, taking the opportunity for a squeeze which she giggled at, and left the room. Marina sighed in contentment and considered whether it was time to get up and take a shower and more pills. Her pain was significantly less and she wanted to keep it that way.

Sela poked her head around the partition and said, “You guys are just disgusting, you know. I’m standing right over here.” She held out her arm as if to demonstrate that it was merely an arm length or two.

Joseph returned balancing a meal tray piled high with food and two cups of tea. Hot corn muffins, fruit wedges, vegetable spread and jam made Marina’s mouth water. She decided breakfast was more important than a shower for the moment. She wasn’t leaving at the same time as her family so there was no real reason to rush. She got out of bed and fished the vials of pills from the coveralls she had draped over a chair the night before. From each of the vials she took one pill and washed them down with a little water. The family met at the table and they feasted.

Later, she saw her family out the door and watched as they strode away. Before they exited the double doors from the hotel lobby to the landing and the stairs beyond, both turned and waved one last time. Sela blew her a kiss and she returned it. Her daughter turned around smartly, her hair shining and neat with her braids coiled around her head and her part ruler straight. She was so obviously eager for the day’s adventures that it gave Marina a warm feeling inside. She didn’t go back into her room until the big doors shut behind them just in case they looked back again.

It was strangely still in the room once they were gone. It wasn’t like when they left the compartment for work on the rare day that Marina was staying home. Then it was still home and it was only blessedly quiet and ready for her to have some alone time. This was a different kind of empty. The room seemed almost forlorn. Marina shook off the feeling and made ready for her own departure.

A shower so long it could only be called decadent left the room steamy and moist, but it revived her and made her muscles feel better. She packed her things after putting on her spare coveralls and then searched the room for odds and ends that might have been left behind. She found hair pins left by Sela and the vegetables left on the shelf by Joseph and she tucked those away.

Joseph had lightened her load by taking her tunic, pants and slippers as well as her spare canteen and a few other items. The package of metal objects she would have liked to have given him, and he did offer, but she was responsible for those items and didn’t feel she could let them go, even to her husband. It weighed almost as much as all the things he had relieved her of but was only a fraction of the size. After she checked them out of the hotel, using the chits she had gotten from Joseph and some of her own, she made her way to the landing and immediately wanted to go back and stay another night in the hotel.

There was plenty of traffic since another conference was in session and the stairs in this area were busy, if not actually crowded. She hated the idea of slowing others down. She took a steadying breath and then made her way toward the stairs, waiting for a decent gap in the downward traffic. She could feel the pull in her foot as it bent during each step but it wasn’t bad. She kept her pace slow and ignored, as best she could, those who grumbled when they passed her. When she heard the call, “Passing down!”, she squeezed to the side as much as possible and avoided eye contact. It was embarrassing.

She dutifully exited at the third level down and sat on the bench near the wall for a few minutes. It was boring even with people to watch and it would take a long time to get all the way to 72 if she kept it up. She was tempted but she did exactly as she was directed to and when she finally reached Level 70 she stopped for a late lunch at the deputy station. No one was there except the dispatcher and he was busy so she had no one to talk to and pass the time.

Deputies didn’t just enforce actual laws. They also helped with other matters that just needed a third party. Noise complaints were most common on residential floors where children often used hallways for their complicated made-up games. Reports of messes were also common and those could range from leak reports that deputies would then record and report, to trails of debris left unwittingly by someone passing by. Medical reports, accident reports and a whole host of things that would be considered outside the norm came first to the deputies. It kept them very busy, indeed.

Two children, perhaps eleven or twelve years old, were brought into the station for fighting while she rested. One sported the beginnings of a respectable black eye while the other had a split lip that made it seem as if she were pouting rather dramatically on one side of her mouth. Both were crying miserably. Marina made her exit as the deputy began lecturing them on the myriad of ways such fighting broke the tenets.

Once on Level 72, she stood to the side of those waiting their turn for entry into the Memoriam. It wasn’t always this busy but there were only so many people the Memoriam spaces could safely accommodate and still be open enough so that everyone could see the exhibits to full effect. When the historian shadow that was at the door dutifully handing out number plaques caught her eye, Marina held up the slip of paper Greta had given her. The shadow waved her over and accepted the paper, flicking it open and reading while still keeping an eye out for any newcomers to the line.

She folded the paper and returned it to Marina. “You can come on through. Greta isn’t here yet but we expect her later in the day. Until then you’re welcome to go through the Memoriam at your leisure,” she said with a smile.

She turned to the people standing behind the line that marked where those awaiting entry should be and said in a clear voice, “I’ll be right back. Who would like to count those who leave for me and keep track of anyone new that comes?”

Several hands shot up and the shadow, a very pretty young woman with unusually light brown hair, smiled at a young boy about the same age as the kids brought in for fighting.

“Thank you, young man,” she said to the boy and his face lit up. “Why don’t you come up here?”

She gave him the little stack of number cards and unfolded a stool for him to stand on, making it easier for him to see, and then helped him up onto it. She ruffled his hair, reminded him to hold the rail on the stool so that he wouldn’t fall and then beckoned Marina to follow her inside.

Marina looked back at the boy and almost laughed at his dazed expression. She remembered too well how easy it was to develop a crush at that age and how sensitive one was to any mention of such. Once they entered the big doors and stood in the vestibule of the Memoriam proper, she told the shadow, “You’ve made his day! He’ll dream of you for years.”

The shadow laughed a musical and light laugh that matched her appearance and held out a hand, “I’m Florine. And you’re Marina, the great finder of lost things! Nice to meet you.”

Marina flushed at her words and sidestepped the praise, “I assure you I’m not. I just stumbled on it by chance.”

“Ah, well,” Florine said as she opened the vestibule door and motioned for Marina to enter, “however it happened, I’m very glad it did.”

The hush that fell once the doors closed was unique to the Memoriam. There were lots of places that were quiet, but this was a different quiet. It was reverent. The ceilings here didn’t have sound dampening tiles or anything else to lower them and the spaces soared up to the concrete ceiling above. Pipes and conduits crossed everywhere but here they were painted to match the lower side of the concrete ceiling in a blinding white. The pipes were given only discreet stripes of the color they should be painted.

The floors, which were tiled like most spaces, were further covered in rugs woven from various plant materials. Only the edges of the rugs, each shaped to match the space they were in, had any real color in them and each bore the color of one of the categories of workers. Even the walls were painted blinding white. The displays were meant to be the focus of this space and it had been scaled back in distracting ornamentation to ensure that was so.

Marina looked around and inhaled the fragrance of old paper and that strange plant-like aroma the rugs gave off. When she stepped onto the rug from the tile, she felt odd and a bit guilty. One didn’t tread upon material like that. It would make it wear and that was a waste. In this place, however, the muffling of footsteps was more important and she took another tentative step forward.

Florine smiled an understanding smile. She wrapped an arm around Marina’s own and led her forward, toward the hallway with the first displays. As they walked she said, “I’ll just take you to your room so you’ll know where it is. That way, you can take a rest now, or whenever you like, while you wait.”

Marina glanced at a wall with black and white portraits hung equally spaced along its length, each one mounted against a square of colorful fabric over some kind of backing material. Each was rendered with such detail that Marina thought they looked like softer versions of the image she had found in the watch. Each also had a small label below the portrait with a name and their age when they went to clean. Almost all of the people were older, though a few were heartbreakingly young. As she passed, Marina placed her hand on her chest, fingers extended toward her heart in remembrance. As they came to the end of the hall, she put a halting hand on Florine’s, which was still around her arm. She stood beneath the portrait of the only person on this wall she knew.

Grandy had been drawn just as she looked when she first requested her name be added to the lottery for cleaning. She had still looked healthy then and it had been very hard for Marina to accept that she was gravely ill. Though the woman had been like a mother to her for more of her childhood than not, Marina wore no Badge of Honor because Grandy hadn’t been in any way related to her.

She had volunteered and been selected for the raising of the orphans. She had been unable to bear a live child herself and even the assistance provided when she went for annual renewals of her Birth Lottery had been ineffective. Eventually, they had stopped renewing it and she had released her husband to join with another. He had been tested and deemed a healthy man, ripe for reproduction, so it was only fair.

Still, Grandy had ended up with four children and had, to Marina’s eyes, been a very happy woman. She enjoyed her own version of motherhood for the dozen years or so that Marina lived with her. And when she was diagnosed with breast cancer she had confided to Marina that she was very glad she had been unable to bear any children for fear that she would simply pass on the affliction.

Marina understood this sentiment well. To ensure one recorded every deviation from the norm in their medical files and have any potential mate cleared as a good match before making commitments was a duty for everyone. This Memoriam stood as a testament to the survival of their people when they were poisoned by those bad Others, those monsters who were less than human. They were beating the poison with every new life but they would only continue if they were diligent.

Marina gazed at the portrait for another long moment. She wanted to reach up and touch the cheek drawn there and see if it was as soft as the cheek of the gentle woman it represented. Instead, she dashed away a tear. Florine patted her arm and urged her forward without words. They wended their way through the halls and past display rooms until they finally reached a door marked as private. A number combination lock stood above the latch on the door and Florine let go of Marina’s arm and entered a few numbers. The latch clicked and she held the door for Marina to pass in.

Before Marina could ask the question, Florine answered it. “I’ll give you a card you can use in the slot instead of a combination. Since these are our private quarters and also the entrance to the archives, we have to have some sort of lock. In the past people just came right in, not paying a bit of attention to the sign. That’s quite awkward when you’re trying to sleep or take a shower.”

“I’ll bet it is. Thanks.”

“Ah, everyone asks that. We get enough guests for it to be standard.” She winked at Marina and led her down even more twisting hallways and past the communal spaces. Historians did marry and did have children, but not often. It was a passionate calling that sometimes left room for very little else in a person’s life. Instead, they mostly lived here in the rooms behind the Memoriam and all shadows were required to live there. It was another reason many of them couldn’t make it through the long and arduous shadowing process. Those that simply couldn’t live their lives back here in the company of other historians eventually left.

Most historians were women, which was a bit odd in Marina’s view, but Joseph had a theory about that. He had declared that no man worth his boots would walk about wearing that many colors at once. It was a funny thought but now that Marina could watch Historians from close proximity, she couldn’t help but see his point. The way the stripes of color were sewn together with the arms and legs of different colors did seem very feminine. She decided to keep that thought to herself. She would have to evaluate some of the male shadows and the one male Historian closely and see if she got a different impression from them.

They arrived at the head of a hallway with a neat “Guest Quarters” painted in bright blue at the juncture. The first door was propped open with a wedge on the floor and it was to this room Florine led her. She showed her the location of the bathroom, gave her instructions on places to get snacks and when meals were served and then hurried away to return to her post.

Alone, Marina realized how tired she was. Her foot was starting to hurt again and the tightness in her thighs was making it known to her that they were less than healed. She took her pills with a few swigs from her canteen and tucked her few clothes into the drawers under the bed. Though she wanted to spend some time in the Memoriam, to refresh her memory of the artifacts and read the writings, she knew she needed rest instead. It was a long distance she had walked despite the fact that it was just twenty-two levels. And she was hungry.

She peeked outside at the clock at the head of the hallway and found that she had a long time before the next meal was served. She took one of the peppers from the bag Joseph had left and snacked on that. She wrapped the remains in a cloth napkin to bring to the compost bin in the dining hall later and laid down for a nap. She thought about how long she wanted to sleep to try to ensure she woke up but before she could even finish the thought, she was out.