5
It was a short walk from his apartment to the central offices, which Donald assumed was the point. It reminded him of a CEO’s office he’d once seen with an adjoining bedroom. What had seemed impressive at first became sad after realizing why it was there.
He rapped his knuckles on the open door marked Office of Psychological Services. He used to think of these people as shrinks, that they were here to keep others sane. Now he knew that they were in charge of the insanity. All he saw on the door anymore was “OPS.” Operations. The Head of the Head of the Heads. The office across the hall was where the busywork landed. Donald was reminded how each silo had a mayor for shaking hands and keeping up appearances, just as the world of yore had Presidents who came and went. Meanwhile, it was the men in shadows whose term limits were bounded by gravestones who wielded true power. That this silo operated by the same deceit should not be surprising; it was the only way such men knew to run anything.
He kept his back to his former office and knocked a little louder. Eren looked up from his computer and a hard mask of concentration melted into a wan smile. “Come in,” he said as he rose from his seat. “You need the desk?”
“Yes, but stay.” Donald crossed the room gingerly, his legs still half asleep, and noticed that while his own whites were crisp, Eren’s were crumpled with the wear of a man well into his six-month shift. Even so, the Ops Head appeared vigorous and alert. His beard was neatly trimmed by his neck and only peppered with gray. He helped Donald into the plush chair behind the desk.
“We’re still waiting for the full report on this cleaner,” Eren said. “The Head of eighteen warned that it’s a thick one.”
“Priors?” Donald imagined anyone sent to clean would have priors.
“Oh, yeah. The word is that she was a sheriff, but I only heard that from Gable across the hall. Not sure if I’m buying it. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first lawman to want out.”
“But it would be the first time anyone’s gotten out of sight,” Donald said.
“From what I understand, yeah.” Eren crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. “Nearest anyone got before now was that gentleman you stopped. I reckon that’s why protocol says to wake you. I’ve heard some of the boys refer to you as the Shepherd.” Eren laughed.
Donald cleared his throat into his fist. He was loath to admit that he had been more the loose sheep than the shepherd. “Tell me about seventeen,” he said, changing the subject. “Who was on shift when that silo went down?”
“We can look it up.” Eren waved a hand at the keyboard.
“My, uh, fingers are still a little tingly,” Donald said. He slid the keyboard toward Eren, who hesitated before getting off the desk. The Ops Head bent over the keys and pulled up the shift list with a shortcut. Donald tried to follow along with what he was doing on the screen. These were files he didn’t have access to, menus he was unfamiliar with.
“Looks like it was Cooper. I think I came off a shift once as he was coming on. Name sounds familiar. I sent someone down to get those files as well.”
“Good, good.”
Eren raised his eyebrows. “You went over the seventeen reports on your last shift, right?”
Donald had no clue if Thurman had been up since then. For all he knew, the old man had been awake when it happened. “It’s hard to keep everything straight,” he said, which was solid truth. “How many years has it been?”
“That’s right. You were in the deep freeze, weren’t you?”
Donald supposed he was. Eren tapped the desk with his finger, and Donald’s gaze drifted to the man across the hall, sitting behind his computer. He remembered what it had been like to be that person over there, wondering what the doctors in white were discussing across the way. Now he was one of those in white.
“Yes, I was in the deep freeze,” Donald said. They wouldn’t have moved his body, would they? Erskine or someone could’ve simply changed entries in a database. Maybe it was that simple. Just a quick hack, two reference numbers transposed, and one man lives the life of another. “I like to be near my daughter,” he explained.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” The wrinkles in Eren’s brow smoothed. “I’ve got a wife down there. I still make the mistake of visiting her first thing every shift.” He took a deep breath, then pointed at the screen. “Seventeen was lost over thirty years ago. I’d have to look it up to be exact. The cause is still unclear. There wasn’t any sign of unrest leading up to it, so we didn’t have much time to react. There was a cleaning scheduled, but the airlock opened a day early and out of sequence. Could’ve been a glitch or tampering. We just don’t know. Sensors reported a gas purge in the lower levels and then a riot surging up. We pulled the plug as they were scrambling out of the airlock. Barely had time.”
Donald recalled Silo 12. That facility had ended in similar fashion. He remembered people scattering on the hillside, a plume of white mist, some of them turning and fighting to get back inside. “No survivors?” he asked.
“There were a few stragglers. We lost the radio feed and the cameras but continued to put in a routine call over there, just in case anyone was in the safe room.”
Donald nodded. By the book. He remembered the calls to 12 after it went down. He remembered nobody answering.
“Someone did pick up the day the silo fell,” Eren said. “I think it was some young shadow or tech. I haven’t read the transcripts in forever.” He paged down on the shift report. “It looks like we sent the collapse codes soon after that call, just as a precaution. So even if the cleaner gets over there, she’s gonna find a hole in the ground.”
“Maybe she’ll keep walking,” Donald said. “What silo sits on the other side? Sixteen?”
Eren nodded.
“Why don’t you go give them a call.” Donald tried to remember the layout of the silos. These were the kinds of things he’d be expected to know. “And get in touch with the silos on either side of seventeen, just in case our cleaner takes a turn.”
“Will do.”
Eren stood, and Donald marveled again at being treated as if he were in charge. It was already beginning to make him feel as if he really were. Just like being elected to Congress, all that awesome responsibility foisted on him overnight—
Eren leaned across the desk and hit two of the function keys on the keyboard, logging himself out of the computer. The Ops Head hurried out into the hall while Donald stared at a login and password prompt.
Suddenly, he felt very much less in charge.