Silo 49: Deep Dark

Chapter Six

Joseph stopped the family briefly at Level 56 to do a little shopping, returning quickly to the place Marina and Sela sat on the landing. He stuffed a parcel that smelled of herbs, sweet peppers and tangy tomatoes into the top of Sela’s backpack. He patted her shoulder after he tied off the top and urged her to be gentle with it.

She laughed and asked if he thought she was looking to wear a jacket made of tomato goo. Her cheeky laugh cut through the thoughtful silence Marina had fallen into while she sat, not having steps to count and keep it at bay. She stood and shook the tightness out her legs, trying not to think too carefully about anything. She smiled at the easy banter between the two just as she would normally do, but it felt stiff and unnatural on her face. At her husband’s inquiry she assured him she was well before once again taking the lead for the final six floors to the hotel.

Those last stairs flew by as they dodged the increasing traffic. The first of the staggered early shift personnel were getting relieved and the second wave of those coming on duty took to the stairs. Families urged along children dragging their feet and protesting that they wanted to be carried. Workers attired in coveralls of every color wove around slower walkers or simply trudged up at the pace of the traffic depending on their schedules.

Marina watched it all and thought it was lively and so much more beautiful than just walking to work. It was a parade full of life. Her own life circled around so few levels that she saw little of what happened in the rest of the silo. As it was now, the only people she recognized were the two who traveled with her. It was a curious sensation to be among so many strangers.

The family bunched together again as traffic intensified, Joseph apologizing as he bumped into her pack after he himself was jostled by others leaving the stairs. On the landing of Level 50, a wide fan of people funneled down to a single moving thread that crept forward slowly as each person joined the flow on the stairs.

Marina wondered where they were all coming from as she wended her way through them toward the doors leading to the hotel. It was a mass of color, gray and blue, red and green and even a few wearing the faded pink of services. So many faces at once were confusing. She hurried through them, muttering her excuses as she pressed past and only feeling comfortable once she reached the doors. Once inside, there was an immediate surcease of noise. It was only then that she realized exactly how loud the sound of so many feet on metal had become.

They approached a counter directly in front of the entrance. Though it was open to either side where hallways led away at angles, it provided an effective mental barrier. Joseph pushed the button for service as the battered and faded placard instructed. He was about to push it again when they spied a woman hurrying down the hallway on the left.

She waved and held up a finger to indicate it would be just a moment and then began drying her hands on a towel she plucked from the belt of her coveralls. She rushed up to the desk, bringing with her a waft of air tinged with the scent of disinfecting cleaner. She smiled at the group, one after the other, and asked how she could help them.

Their check-in went quickly. They were handed a combination card and told, with another high voltage smile, that their room was near the outer edge of the hotel. It was one of their largest rooms.

The attendant, now revealed as Wendy, beamed at them and strode with a no-nonsense gait down the hallway to escort them to their room. Her voice lowered as if to avoid disturbing occupants, she gave them a brief rundown of the hotel and the services available.

“Wendy, what’s with all the traffic outside? The landing was packed. I didn’t realize this floor was so busy,” Joseph asked as he accepted the key card from her.

Wendy gave a little shake of her head, “You got here just as all the meetings are breaking up. There’s a big one going on at the conference center about the aquaculture re-fit. You know, the one on 30? We’ll finally get fish on a more regular basis again!”

At the confused looks on her guests’ faces, she elaborated, “Oh, well, you may not know since you live so far away but two of the aquaculture tanks in hydroponics on 30 had to be shut down over the past couple of years. The whole thing needs repairs and now they’re having problems on 49 too.” She pointed up to the ceiling. “That’s right above this hotel!”

All three of them joined Wendy in looking up, as if expecting to see a crack form and water come pouring out.

“Anyway, the council decided that a refit has to be done to get things back up to the mark and there’s a big meeting there with dozens of people working on the planning for it. It’s going to be a big deal.”

Joseph eyed the ceiling suspiciously and asked, “It’s safe, right?”

Wendy straightened up and said, her tone a bit aggrieved, “Absolutely. You can be sure of that. It wouldn’t matter if every one of those tanks burst, the concrete between us and them is sound. I assure you.”

Joseph nodded but Marina could tell he was looking at her with a lawman’s gaze, looking for the truth behind her words. He was apparently satisfied because he said, “Well, thank you, Wendy. We probably need to get cleaned up before dinner.”

“Do you need me to arrange that for you?”

Joseph answered, a broad smile cracking his face, “Nope. Not today. We’re eating in the Wardroom.”

Wendy’s eyebrows crept up and she turned up the wattage on her smile a few clicks, “Then I certainly won’t detain you further. You’re in for a treat!” She took a practiced step backward, bringing her neatly out of their way and then turned to leave. She gave one quick little wave and wished them a good evening before striding away.

The room turned out to be quite nice. Sela rushed past, gave the smaller bed an experimental bounce and pronounced it suitable. Marina stood at the threshold and took it in for a moment. She had always been less comfortable with change than the rest of her family and she needed these moments. The room smelled vaguely of the cleaning solution recently used to ready it and the floor was swept and mopped to perfection. The dust that plagued so much of the silo was entirely absent here, each surface gleaming and clean. Marina liked it, right down to the soft beige paint on the walls.

The other side of the partition from Sela’s bed held a larger bed, meant for two. It was neatly made and covered in a cotton blanket that had faded and softened to a pale shade of green Marina found lovely. That part of the room could be completely shut off from the rest of the compartment by means of a curtain, now pushed to the side for maximum space. It wasn’t the kind of privacy they enjoyed in their own compartment but far more than she had expected in a temporary room.

Aside from the two beds and the thin partition wall that stood between them, there were few furnishings. Metal shelves jutted from the walls above the beds, most of them empty but one holding a neatly folded blanket, this one a less faded yellow color. Lamps attached to movable arms protruded from bases screwed into the wall above each bed.

The space between the door and the smaller bed was taken up by a round table just big enough for three people to eat from if they were careful with their elbows, and three straight backed chairs. Those were tucked tightly to the table to leave the illusion of space but Marina guessed that anyone actually sitting at that table would be no more than an arm’s reach from the foot of the bed or the wall or the door, depending on which chair they chose.

On the other side of the door, most of the space opposite the larger bed area and the metal doors of the shallow closet next to it had been walled off for a very small bathroom. She supposed that having a bathroom is what made it a better room.

She opened the door to take a peek inside and found it tiny, but very nicely appointed. The floor and walls were tiled top to bottom, and only a few of the tiles were cracked. Each cracked one stood out, the bright white bead of sealant breaking the symmetry of the regular squares.

The shower was small and had a door that folded rather than slid like those she had in her own residence because of the limited space. The metal sink and toilet were crammed in such close proximity that one might almost wash their hands in the one while still taking care of business on the other. She lifted a small jar of dark soap from the sink and caught the sweet, astringent scent of rosemary.

“Well, they have really nice soap. Mind if I go first?” she asked as she poked her head back out.

Joseph was lining up the vegetables he had taken from Sela’s pack on one of the shelves, carefully inspecting each for damage first. He didn’t turn from his task but said, “Go ahead.”

Sela was deeply involved in smoothing wrinkles from a long tunic and a pair of beige cotton pants. She stroked the fabric, already spread out as flat as possible on the bed, but it didn’t seem to be doing much to fix the problem. It was a rare occasion that brought out anything other than coveralls and Sela appeared both nervous and excited as she examined the wrinkled cotton.

The tunic was colorfully dyed in staggered bands of color from bright yellow at the top down to orange and finally to a deep red at the hem. It had been a gift from her father when she began to shadow for him and in the time since, she had never worn it outside their compartment.

“Sela, you might get those wrinkles out a little easier if you hang it in the bathroom while I shower. Hot showers work wonders for more than just getting clean.”

She stopped smoothing the fabric and looked up uncertainly. “Are you sure I should wear this? In public?”

“Absolutely,” Marina answered with conviction. “Lots of people wear them on special occasions. You just don’t see it that much because you always see people on business or going to work. Even Grandy wore clothes other than coveralls. She wore them almost every day when I was young.”

A skeptical look appeared on Sela’s face and she crossed her arms, a sure sign of disbelief. “Grandy? No way.”

Marina nodded, “Yes, way. She absolutely did. It was only when we traveled the stairs that she wore coveralls. When she got older and us kids grew up and moved out, she went back to work. That is why you saw her in coveralls all the time.”

Grandy was what Marina and the other orphans, and eventually their children, had called the woman who raised them. Sela had especially admired her and spent weeks in her company when she was little, learning how to draw and dance and play all the games that Grandy had taught her mother. If Grandy had worn paper wrappings and liked it, Sela would probably think it must be good to wear them too.

Sela turned away to consider the tunic again, then she snatched it up as if she might change her mind if she didn’t hurry and thrust it at her mother. “Okay. I will, but if anyone laughs at me I’m coming straight back here and changing. Deal?”

Marina took the cloth solemnly and agreed, “Deal.”

By the time Marina left the bathroom wrapped in a soft towel and carrying a much less wrinkled garment, Joseph and Sela were playing cards. It was apparently a fierce competition with much slapping of cards on the table required for participation. Sela hopped up, loudly victorious, and examined the tunic even as her mother laid it out on the bed.

Marina would also be wearing something other than coveralls this evening, the first time she had done so in front of strangers for many a year. She would never have admitted it, but she was quite nervous about it too. It was expected when dining in the Wardroom, though. She figured she would survive the ordeal.

It wasn’t as if wearing clothing other than coveralls weren’t allowed or anything. In many cases, such as this one, it was expected or even required. After all, they had about half an entire level dedicated to the manufacture and sale of fabrics and things made of fabric. Of that, only a portion was related to coveralls or patches for coveralls.

In the case of the Wardroom, very long tradition held that one did not eat there in coveralls unless one was a resident of the Wardroom residences and actually on duty. No one knew why but there it was.

By the time all three of the family members were ready to leave, Marina felt a bit like she was walking out of the door in her underwear. She had to work to restrain herself from crossing her arms in front of her chest. That would have probably sent Sela running back for the door.

Of the three, only Joseph seemed at ease. He wore a pair of blue pants just a few shades darker than the paint used to mark pipes for potable water. His tunic was longer than Marina’s, ending just above the knee and dyed a yellow almost as pale as the spare blanket in their hotel room. It was decorated with a line of spots of many colors, all of them blurred at the edges like someone had shaken wet hands covered in many different dyes at the yellow cloth and then liked the effect. Perhaps that is what happened. Whatever the case, it was a bold pattern and Marina liked it a great deal. It made his brown eyes and the slight curl in his short, dark hair somehow more handsome. The easy expression on his face made her want to reach out and touch him possessively.

What Sela and Marina wore was similar in concept to Joseph’s but Marina marveled at how different the final effect was. Both of their tunics stopped at mid-thigh and were slightly longer in back than in front. The sleeves were long, just as his were, but rather than being straight and ending without flourish, theirs ended wider and again longer in back than in front. They would need to be careful when eating or both would wind up dragging those sleeves through their meals.

In front, the neckline was squared rather than cut into the standard V-neck that Joseph wore. That square also dipped a bit lower than a coverall and Marina felt uncomfortable knowing the ridges of her clavicles were out for all to see. She felt even more uncomfortable knowing Sela’s clavicles were displayed.

The pants were somewhat safe, at least. Cut more trimly than the loose comfort of coveralls, they clung to the leg and ended above the ankle. Rather than boots, they all wore soft slippers most often worn while at home to keep feet off of chilly floor tiles.

Overall, the effect was certainly eye-catching and Joseph’s eyes had widened in pleased surprise and then narrowed suggestively when he saw her. “I like that color green on you. It’s much prettier than gray.”

She gave him a mock glare and he quickly added, “Of course, you’re pretty in any color.”

Sela rolled her eyes at them and then linked her own arm to her father’s on one side while Marina did the same from the other. They set out across the landing, now quieter and with far less traffic, and followed the curved walkway toward the Wardroom. The few people they passed nodded and smiled and pretended not to stare at their outfits but Marina could feel their eyes. A quick glance at Sela told her that she felt them too. Two bright spots of pink stood out high on her cheeks but she didn’t stop or bolt back to the hotel. Marina counted it a victory.

The Wardroom was tucked inside a part of Level 50 where residences that held specific purpose were. Most were tied to some post or another and only inhabited by the holder of that post. Families could and did live with those post holders on occasion, but in general the posts were temporary ones. Most people wouldn’t risk the loss of good quarters more convenient to the rest of their lives in order to move to these awkwardly situated small ones.

In some cases, they were used only as offices for the post holder or left entirely vacant by the person who should live there. Marina had checked the residence location for the Hardi that had sent the watch in for reclamation. It was a part of the residences somewhere inside Wardroom territory not tied to a post.

She had been keeping her ears pricked for any mention of the name and would keep on doing so, though she wouldn’t approach the woman if she found her. Marina wanted to interview her about the watch but she didn’t want that information until after she had spoken with officials. In the off chance she had something really interesting or revealing to tell, Marina didn’t want to be put into the position of having to lie more than necessary.

Marina and Joseph were vaguely familiar with the Wardroom quarters because Joseph had been very close to being chosen to hold such quarters at one time. Another deputy had been the council’s final choice and he had been a good choice. Older than Joseph and with experience in both the Down-Deep and Mids stations, his selection as the Law Enforcement Liaison to the Emergency Management Council freed Joseph up from consideration for the length of the selectee’s term, which stood at seven years.

The Emergency Management Council, or EMC, had told Joseph that the age of his child had been a factor in his not being chosen, for which they were both grateful. By the time the next selection came about that would not help him. In the future, he might very well spend many of his nights far from her bed and in the rooms of the Wardroom.

On the upside, those who lived in these residences were allotted any and all meals in the Wardroom at no charge as it was assigned as their primary cafeteria. For everyone else the price was fixed at one half of a vacation day chit per meal, no matter which meal. Marina had never eaten there before and Sela had never even heard of it prior to her parents informing her of their plans. Joseph had been hosted there, along with the other final candidate, during that last round of selections. He seemed so excited to share this experience with his family, despite the cost, that his feelings had spread to Marina.

Joseph opened the door for them and then handed the attendant, a slight man attired in the pink coveralls of the service industry, three half-day vacation chits and a slip of paper that confirmed their reservation. The man gave the slip only the barest glance and the chits no attention at all as he deftly deposited them into a slot on the podium.

He led them to their table inside the Wardroom proper and Marina found herself resisting the urge to gape as they wound their way through the tables. One wall of the room was covered with a huge screen that was further divided into many smaller rectangular screens. On each of these rectangular portions, a view of some part of the silo appeared. It occurred to her that her childhood bouts of virtue in front of the cameras were seen by someone after all and she had to stifle a nervous giggle at the thought.

Their table, once Marina found herself capable of tearing her eyes from the screen to pay attention to it, was meant for four guests but one place setting had been left off. In the empty place sat a basket of fresh corn rolls and a small dish of perfectly round balls of herbed goat cheese to spread on the rolls. In front of each of the three chairs lay a cotton napkin folded into an elaborate shape.

As they sat and the attendant took his leave, murmuring something about taking their orders, all three couldn’t help but run their hands over the table itself. Though the base was metal and bolted to the floor, the top was made of actual wood. It was banded around the sides with metal to protect the precious edges and polished so smooth the surface gleamed. She let her hand hover over the top and marveled to see the reflection of her palm in the shining surface. Marina had never seen so much wood in all her life and never of such size. The boards that made the top were a hand wide and perhaps two inches thick.

Joseph looked at her, a gleam in his eye, and whispered, “I told you it was special. I’m told that there used to be tables like this all over the place, but these are the only ones left. And what do you think of the screens?”

She looked at the screens again. Their table was situated so that both she and Joseph had an excellent view. Sela had to turn a bit to see it but she twisted in her chair willingly enough. Marina saw her eyes darting about the views as if cataloging all that she could identify.

“I’m amazed, Joseph. Truly. What do we do with this? Can we use it or is it just for show?” she asked, indicating the complex structure made of her napkin.

“Ah,” he replied. “Just shake it out like so.” He demonstrated for them by flicking the cloth sharply down at his side. He then spread it across his lap the same way they did at home.

Sela twisted back around in her chair and eyed the basket of corn rolls. “Umm…I like it too, but I’m hungry. Can I?”

She had the good manners to wait for an assenting nod, but wasted no time after that, grabbing one and splitting it wide. She speared a ball of the soft cheese with her fork and mashed it onto half of the roll, smearing it with a token swipe of the utensil before taking a huge bite. She chewed hungrily and her cheek distended enough to be comical. She grinned at her mother, small crumbs dotting her lips.

Marina shook her head with half-serious disgust and said, “You could try to eat like we feed you more than once a day, you know. People will think we didn’t raise you right.”

She looked around at the other tables. Another couple was being escorted in and there were four other tables with guests already seated. There were only twelve tables in all and Marina was glad it was not yet full so her daughter’s actions might go unnoticed.

Joseph wisely kept silent but Marina saw the wink he directed at his daughter and the widening of her answering grin. She swallowed loud enough to be heard a few feet away and took a swig of the cold water the attendant had poured into their cups as they were seated. Another stern look directed at Sela seemed to work and she settled down after that. Marina thought perhaps it was merely nervousness that caused her to act out. Whatever it was, it seemed to pass and for that, Marina was grateful.

Their dinner was to come out to them rather than require them to get into a line. While it would be an interesting change, Marina liked to see food before she made choices on what to eat. The family’s habit of eating their evening meal in their quarters rather than slogging it to one of the cafeterias had made her a bit pickier than she would easily admit to. The attendant, introducing himself as Davis, read them their choices and told them that their early dinner reservation meant that all the choices were still available to them.

Of the three choices for their main meal, two included meat, something Marina had never heard of in her life. Instead of responding with a choice, she asked, “How can that possibly not be wasteful?” There was a hint of accusation in her voice that she regretted, that she tried to bite back, but she also wanted to know the answer to her question.

Davis didn’t appear to mind the question, or perhaps he was simply used to it, because his voice didn’t change from the same smooth tones he’d been using. “The Wardroom prides itself on its careful management as well as the quality of its food. There is a strict cut-off for reservations and our menus are planned using those numbers. Early diners, like you, have the widest choices but when it is gone,” he raised his shoulders in a small shrug, “it’s gone. There are no exceptions.”

“What about the residents? The ones who can eat here any time?” she countered.

“They must make the same arrangements as anyone else if they choose one of the two main meal services. Those few that do live here most often eat from what remains or eat elsewhere. Everyone has the same limitation of two meats per week, of course. We have very few people in residence permanently. If there is anything left at the end of a meal, it is used for another meal.” Again, the little shrug came through and she wondered how he did that. How does one shrug without actually shrugging?

Marina felt a bit sorry for the man, considering how often he probably got these questions. She smiled at him, trying to put a little extra warmth into it, and said, “I appreciate your very helpful explanation. I think I can enjoy this meal a great deal more now, thanks to your patience.”

It was perhaps a bit over the top and she saw Joseph’s eyebrows tick upward from the corner of her eye, but it worked and Davis’ expression relaxed. He was no less formal but the chill was gone and there was a decidedly friendly tone as he advised them on their choices and took orders.

He brought them a metal pitcher sweating with condensation and filled three more cups with tea. It smelled like green heaven and had nasturtium blossoms floating in it. Davis plucked a pair of slender sticks from a pocket and deftly deposited one of the flowers into Sela’s cup. He winked at her surprised expression and left without a word. Joseph chortled under his breath at her while Sela just stared at Davis’ retreating back. Marina was delighted with the whole experience.

It was a matter of moments before he returned with three trays perfectly balanced using just one hand and arm. He set each meal down with a flourish and left them to eat in peace, this time without any flirtatious flower dropping.

Marina looked at her own tray and then the two others in wonder and took note of how each thing was arranged to be pleasing to the eye. It was something she had never once considered but it definitely did something to her belly. It was like a good taste that hit her stomach through her eyes instead of her mouth.

Joseph had chosen fish. His explanation that it was pre-emptive revenge should they rain down on them during the night had sent both women into giggles not entirely suppressed by the hands they pressed to their faces. Now that he had his tray, he merely grinned at the expression on both of the women’s faces and took up a fork and knife to begin his meal.

Sela poked suspiciously at a few items she didn’t recognize only to discover that they were familiar items cut into fantastic shapes, a radish cut like a flower and green onions made into strands so thin they looked like green hair. After that, she too dug in to her meal though Marina was glad to see that she remembered her manners. Sela’s eggplant, fried crisp in a thick coating of herbed cornbread and amaranth crumbs then smothered in tomato sauce, began to disappear at a steady rate.

Marina had chosen rabbit, not because she had a particular desire for it but because it was the third choice and her family had chosen the other two. Once she tasted it she realized she had made the perfect choice. It was cooked in a way that Marina had never seen before and so juicy that she had to be careful not to let it run down her chin. It wasn’t fried and it wasn’t boiled and it was like nothing else she could imagine.

They all tasted each other’s food and pronounced each delicious but Marina secretly decided that her own was the most flavorful. It rested on a bed of parsnip puree. She liked parsnips well enough but couldn’t imagine how they managed to get the tough roots to turn into this smooth and delicious pudding like substance.

There was no conversation during the meal. The only sounds were of people enjoying a meal around them in the dining room. As Marina chased the last green bean around on her tray, she felt a little embarrassed at the sounds she knew she had made. A quick glance around the dining room showed her that others were experiencing the exact same thing and she relaxed.

Joseph was the last to finish, taking the time to clean the bones of his fish of any tiny flakes of flesh that clung there. By the time he rested his fork and knife on the tray, the clock announced the approaching end of service. Marina heard the sigh in response from all over the dining room and the polite soft laughs that came directly after. A shared experience gave the room’s temporary inhabitants a warm camaraderie.

Five minutes later the bell sounded again and it was time to leave. There was just an additional five minutes of time before anyone lingering would be taking up time meant for cleaning between seatings. In this respect the Wardroom was apparently no different than any other cafeteria in the silo and that pleased her. While she could not deny that she had enjoyed the new experience and the food, she felt uncomfortable with the idea that any place could be set apart. Sticking to a schedule made it seem more appropriate somehow.

As they left they nodded their thanks to Davis, who was again stationed at the reception podium. They passed by a line of people waiting for the next seating to begin. Only one group of three people in the line wore coveralls and they were clearly residents. They were deep in conversation and a passing listen told Marina that their topic was the aquaculture tank re-fit.

She forgot about them almost immediately as the family discussed the evening. Marina wanted to know about the view screens but Joseph only knew what he had been told when being considered for a position on the EMC. The same cameras people could view in the Memoriam and at any deputy station were also viewable in the Wardroom. Since that is where the EMC congregated if there was an emergency that needed extended response, it made sense.

Marina couldn’t imagine any emergency so dire. Life was a series of small and not so small emergencies with gifts of calm between. Sometimes it was a fire someplace or a leak in a pipe. Other times it was blight on the crops or a sickness spreading in the animals. Other times it was the illness of a loved one or friend and sometimes their gift of cleaning on their way to death. She considered it a moment and realized that she had no memory of the EMC ever having been prominent in any situation.

Sela asked about the vacation chits. Marina had noted the little grimace she made when her father handed over the precious chits. She may not be earning them yet but she appreciated their value. One day’s worth of vacation chits were earned for every fourteen days once one passed from shadow status. There was one mandatory day off that still counted as a work day on the 7th day of each 14 day cycle but some people regularly took additional days off, while others saved the chits up like their family did or just took them randomly as needed.

There were an almost infinite number of approaches an individual might take with respect to time off but one thing was certain; a day of vacation was valuable and non-transferrable. Giving away a vacation chit did not mean the new holder got to use that chit. It was simply not usable by anyone and gone forever.

Joseph considered his answer and as the family reached the little lounge area this particular landing had, he asked her a question. “What do your pay chits mean to you?”

Sela wrinkled her brow at the question, but she was her father’s shadow and was familiar with his methods of teaching. He would lead her to her own answer. She appeared to think about it as they settled onto a bench. Finally she replied, “It means I can buy things and not ask you or Mom for chits. I guess it means I have more freedom. That’s what it feels like.”

He nodded as if this was the answer he expected and asked, “And what would it mean to you if you didn’t live with us?”

“Well, it would mean that I had obligations for the chits and couldn’t spend them just on things that I wanted. I would have to pay for the food I didn’t get in the cafeteria. I would have to pay for things I needed for my compartment. I might have to pay for repairs and stuff like that, too. I guess that would mean I had less freedom than I do now when it comes to pay chits.”

He added an encouraging smile to his nod this time and Marina could see the pride he held in his daughter writ large. “Very true. So, let’s consider that. Let’s say you’re a person who lives right next to a cafeteria and works a shift that allows you to have every meal there. All things being the same otherwise, does that person have more freedom than you would with respect to their pay?”

Sela thought about it for a long moment, eyes toward the ceiling. “I think that would depend on lots of small things, but overall, I would say yes.”

“Yes, I agree that there are many other considerations but I’m glad you’re going with the general idea. And now I’ll get to the point. If the Wardroom charged pay then some people would be able to enjoy it with much less sacrifice than others simply because of random circumstances. Even the value of pay chits is relative depending on the situation we find ourselves in. The only thing that has the exact same value to every single person in the silo is a vacation day chit. That’s it. No matter who you are or where you are in the silo or how you live, a meal in the Wardroom will cost you a half day off. Make sense?”

Marina had watched the answer come over Sela as her father spoke. She understood before he finished speaking and looked down at her folded hands. The view of her face was obscured by her hair, let down from her tight braids for this special occasion. It was a long moment before she spoke and then she said, “So you just worked for six and a half days to give me that meal, Dad?”

He laughed and reached over to pat her knee. “You bet I did. But, on the upside, I got to work those six and a half days with you, didn’t I?”