Silo 49: Going Dark

What Would Wallis Do?

They talked until well into the dimming, when the silo became quiet and the sounds of life tapered off beyond the compartment door. Graham did not return to his rooms once they were done talking. He had been exhausted almost to tears and couldn’t face even that short trip back to his empty compartment. Instead he shoved piles of laundry, plus one disreputably shaggy old cat, off the couch and onto the floor and took that for his bed. It was an uncomfortable bed and, as tired as he was, Graham found his mind going over the evening just passed and all that had been said.

To Graham it seemed as if Wallis had been more himself than since his wife died as the night wore on and Graham was able to uncover the truth of this world for him. At first Wallis had thought Graham was joking. Then he had thought he was ill, going so far as to get up from his seat and lay a hand on Graham’s forehead to check for fever.

After that he got angry, but it was a brief anger borne of having disbelief turn into truth. His natural curiosity displaced the anger quickly enough and eventually transformed into interest and engagement. It went better than Graham could have hoped.

Graham had tried to be systematic and avoid confusion, just as his caster had done for him during those first critical revelations decades before. Revealing each new truth one layer at a time made the process less painful and more easily accepted. Just as one prepared a surface so that it would last with time by priming it and letting it cure in the air before adding a first coat of paint, Graham tried to expose all the realities of this world to Wallis in good order and with careful attention to detail.

That tactic might have worked for a young shadow, but Wallis was no young man like he had been, and his friend had the experiences of a lifetime to relate to. He made leaps and connections between the words Graham said and his own experiences. The more they talked, the more Graham found himself hurrying to catch up and stay ahead of his friend.

By the time their eyes had gone sandpaper dry and the need for sleep had become urgent, Graham felt he had done a respectable job of laying out facts it had taken him a decade or more to truly accept. Just as his own caster had done with him, and as he had done with his long-dead shadow, he watched Wallis for signs of breaking. That was tricky though. The entire thing was distressing. It was the level of distress and reaction to it that needed to be carefully measured and prepared for.

As Graham tried to find a comfortable position on the sagging couch with springs that twanged at random moments, he realized he had never once considered what he would do had Wallis been unable to accept the information. He had no weapon and it never occurred to him, not even in passing, that he would have harmed the man. It seemed to Graham that he was either very desperate or very confident in his friend’s mental stability. He was consciously aware of neither thing. To the accompaniment of Wallis’ snores nearby and the twang of yet another spring, Graham finally slept.

It seemed as if only a moment had passed when he woke, so he must have slept soundly and well despite the couch and its unruly springs. He was stiff and sore and his left leg was deeply asleep. Wallis sat watching him from a chair just a few feet away wearing nothing but an undershirt and his shorts. It was an unnerving sight to wake up to.

Wallis looked almost excited, leaning forward as he was, his eyes alight with all that he had learned. Graham wondered if his friend had slept much at all. Even the sharp bristles of beard on his unshaven face, more gray than brown now, seemed to be standing straight up and ready to hear more.

“What? You okay?” Graham asked, his voice croaking and his mouth dry as old bones. He smacked his lips a few times and tried to work up some moisture. Based on the drool spot on the pillow, he had been sleeping with his mouth open again. No wonder his mouth was dry.

Wallis had apparently been waiting for him to wake up. Graham had no idea how long that wait might have been, but it was clearly long enough for Wallis to be wide awake and filled with questions. It was a bit weird to think of Wallis sitting there watching him drool and sleep.

Before Graham could think any further on that possibility, Wallis waved his hands dismissively and answered his question, “Fine, fine, I’m fine. So, these guys over in the other silo, they don’t know you’ve been talking to other silos? How can you get away with that? When did that start? How come you didn’t cut their controls on 72 if it was done at the Up-Top? And how did…”

Graham stopped him with a grunt and an outstretched hand then swung his unresponsive, sleeping leg over the side of the couch. It felt strange hitting the floor, almost like it wasn’t really his leg. “Hold on a second, for deep’s sake, and let me wake up. Got any tea made?”

Wallis called him a big baby and shuffled over to heat a pot of water. He wiped a metal teapot down with a dubious looking rag he dug from a pile of stuff on the counter then tossed in some tea that he sniffed first, also not an encouraging sign. He ran some water from the sink over two dirty cups on the counter, but Graham noted that he rinsed them from the non-dosed water he had been provided. Graham yawned hugely and shook his leg, grimacing as the first of the pins and needles started and let him know he still had a working leg after all.

Wallis came back and plopped down in his chair again. He reached out to slap Graham’s knee and asked, “You awake now?”

Graham shivered from the deep yawn but nodded. “What were you asking again? One question at a time, please, unless you want to wait till I get some tea down.”

Wallis scoffed at the idea of waiting, apparently, and gave him a look that clearly conveyed he had no intention of waiting for tea or anything else. He asked, “Okay. So how are you talking with those other silos? How many of the other silos are in on it? Are there really 50 silos? Like, 50 silos all filled with people?”

Graham tried to follow all the questions but they came rapidly and were punctuated with the jerky emphasis created by Wallis’ hands. He always had been a hand talker. Now he was an impatient, curious and possibly over-caffeinated hand talker and it was making Graham dizzy.

“Yes, there are 50 but one of those is Silo One and I don’t think they count. I’ve spoken to several silos over the years, but some of the others are able to communicate with yet others that I can’t talk to and vice versa. I’m not sure why but I don’t think any of them can talk to all the others. At least not in secret, they can’t. I suppose I could talk to any silo I wanted just by ringing them up, but that’s not what you’re talking about, I don’t think. It’s not like I planned any of this secret stuff at all, I just happened to be there to answer when a call came one day.”

Graham shrugged because he really wasn’t at all sure how any of that had happened or who started it. He only knew that one day he had heard the buzz and seen the blinking light that meant Silo 40 was calling him. He had put the jack in, wondering what it might be about, and found himself talking on an altered line so filled with high squeals it had pained him to listen.

“And you never asked how many others are in on this? Are you an idiot?”

Graham bristled at the idea. “Of course, I asked! And we all agreed that we would only know the ones we already knew of or might connect with later. Safer, you know?” Graham stopped talking and pointed at the steam rising from the pot of water behind Wallis.

Wallis hopped up, more energetic than Graham had seen him in a long time, and began to prepare the tea. Seeing Wallis’ thin old man legs, mussed grey hair and bony feet made Graham wonder where the years had gone to. He wondered if he appeared that old when Wallis looked back at him so he looked down at his own legs and feet. Sure enough, they were bony, old man feet too. It was rather disappointing.

Wallis came back, carefully balancing the two cups on a battered metal plate. He stopped and started a few times, causing more to slop out of the cups each time he started walking because he kept looking at the cups. Graham wondered if Wallis had ever been told that you can only carry a full cup without slopping by not looking at it. Finally, he lowered the tray and offered a cup to Graham.

Graham took it gratefully and tried not to burn himself on the hot metal, curling a finger around the handle where a bit of yarn had been wrapped to keep away some of the heat. He blew across the surface of the hot tea and steam rushed away from him.

He took a careful sip while he waited for Wallis to settle himself and then said, “You’re taking this rather better than I thought you would.”

Wallis put down his hot cup and leaned forward again. He looked excited and eager. Actually, Graham thought he looked a bit too excited.

“Am I? How should I have taken it?” Wallis asked.

“Well, let’s just say that I spent 33 days locked under a floor after I was told just a small part of what I told you last night.”

Wallis leaned back in this chair and let out a whoosh of air as he gaped at Graham in surprise. His hair, already sticking up in every direction in unruly grey tufts, got another work over as he ran his hands up the sides of his head. Afterward, he looked like a little goat with horns flaring up, save that his horns were made of hair. He looked Graham up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

Graham imagined he was probably visualizing cabinets and cubbies like those they hid in as children during games. In those tight places they’d folded themselves up, chests compressed, and half hoped they would be found first.

“It wasn’t like a closet or anything. It was a series of rooms tucked under the floor,” Graham explained and saw that his guess had been right by the look on Wallis’ face. He clarified, “But I was locked in, very frightened and confused. You’re not, though. Why?”

Graham watched Wallis as the man thought about what he would say. He watched just as he had with his own shadow, but without any intention of doing anything about it should his friend run screaming from the room. The time for that kind of absurdity was past now. Anything in the Order had to be treated with reservation now. Perhaps the whole thing was just so much trash and wasted paper.

Finally Wallis spoke. The excitement had diminished and a more serious tone entered his voice. “I think it is because I know there are others and when we die, it won’t be the end. Until now, I thought we were the only people that existed.”

Graham thought about what Wallis said for a moment, then nodded. This was a sentiment he understood. It was both reasonable and truthful.

Wallis went on, his voice low and a little sad, “You know, until today, I’ve been waking up every day and wondering if that would be the day cancer got started inside me. Or maybe if that day was the day I wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and I would jump over the rails. I can’t even remember the last time I woke up without those actual thoughts running through my head.”

“And today?” Graham asked, his voice gentle.

“And today I woke up and thought about how we can fix this shit.”

Graham smiled at the profanity. It was something he heard rarely from Wallis. As first a teacher and then a politician, it was something he had just given up when they all left childhood behind. After all, it wouldn’t have done for a primary school teacher to send the kids home after school with that sort of special vocabulary.

“I like the way you think,” he replied, the grin still on his face.

“What about you, Graham? Don’t tell me you didn’t feel the same. At least at some point, you must have.”

He tried to remember if he had ever had that type of thought and didn’t think he had, but he knew that Wallis was referring to their mutual losses over the years. The thoughts that went through his head were always tinged with the knowledge he carried of the other silos. “No. Actually, my most awful thoughts were the exact opposite of yours. Even scarier, I think.”

Wallis looked skeptical, “Scarier than cancer or jumping? The only thing scarier than that is slow cancer.”

“What I woke up and feared was that I wouldn’t get sick. I knew I would never jump. My responsibility absolutely prevents that. What I feared was being the last one here.”

There was silence between the two men, each pondering the concept.

At last, Wallis spoke, expression flat and voice deadpan. “I have to tell you, that is just so fucked up, my friend.”

Graham spluttered as inappropriate laughter bubbled out of him. Wallis joined him after a tick, gales of laughter choking out of him until he bent over and held his stomach, claiming he was going to wet himself if Graham didn’t stop snorting. The laughter petered out, a few false stops coming and going as they started laughing again.

Eventually, Graham wiped his eyes and saw that years of grief had fallen from the face of his oldest friend. The lines were still there, as was the grey hair and the increasingly wild eyebrows, but the lines held less pain in them. He hoped it would stay that way.

Once he recovered his composure, Wallis said, “All this hilarity aside, I have a whole lot of questions. I get the impression they aren’t going to move whatever agenda you’ve got forward just to save our asses. Unless blowing up our home is the kind of help you were looking for, that is. I’m not thinking that is the case. So, why don’t you tell me where we need to go from here and let the questions take care of themselves.”

“Okay. This is what I think we’ve got to figure out and I really don’t think we have a whole lot of time to do it in. First, Silo 40 already took care of the lines outside that Silo One could have used to start the self-destruct Up-Top,” he said and held up his hands to forestall questions when Wallis’ mouth opened.

“And before you ask, I have no idea how they did it. It was long before my time. That’s only half the system, though and it’s that other part we have to worry about.”

“That’s the stuff on Level 72 you were talking about, right?” Wallis asked.

Graham nodded, “Yep. But here’s where it gets tricky. If we start disabling things they might figure out we’re up to something. The whole system, for the whole silo, has to be disabled at once. And just like 40 did when they disabled the topside lines, it probably needs to be coordinated with the other silos or whatever else they did to make it unnoticeable. We don’t know, and have no real way to find out, how much Silo One knows about us down in here. I think we can be sure they won’t allow themselves to lose control of us without a fight.”

“And your plan is to not give them the ability to fight, huh?”

“Exactly,” replied Graham. “That means we need one more person and I need to get on the comms.”