by Ann Christy
She braced herself to try to rise but the porters, experienced with transports for the decrepit, each held out a hand for her. She gripped their calloused yet gentle hands and stifled a groan as she rose to her feet. She assured the young men that she was fine going alone from there but they informed her that they were to wait for her and return her to her lodgings for the night.
She flushed a little at that, relieved that they would do so yet feeling as if she should be capable of doing that herself and not tie up two people who were probably much needed elsewhere. When she reached for her small pack, one of the porters grabbed it and then held out an arm for her. It was just the same way as her husband had for her the night before as they went to the Wardroom for a meal, yet the intention so completely different she almost laughed.
Before she could protest the porter said, "Sorry, but it's required for transports. You don't have to take my arm but I have to walk with you. Just in case."
She didn't take the proffered arm, but she did let him carry her pack and they walked slowly toward the open doors of IT. As was tradition, the doors were held wide with metal loops wrapped around the door handles at the end of a long bar. The other end of the bar hooked through another loop of metal screwed into the concrete of the wall. There had been various times throughout the years when the suggestion was put forward that the doors should simply be removed to open more space, but the fire codes wouldn't permit such a thing. There was actually a breaking link in the bar of metal, a band that was more brittle by design, and a sledge hammer mounted to the wall nearby. If a fire should happen, someone would grab the hammer and break those links and then those fire doors would close for the first time in living memory.
At the entrance to IT, a young man stood wearing the same grey coveralls that Marina wore but with the badge of IT. It depicted the outline of a box with the graphic of a hand, fingers spread wide, within the box. Also according to tradition, he held a platter with tiny round biscuits upon it.
As Marina and the porter approached, the man said the ritual words that were said to everyone who approached the doors of IT and he offered the platter of biscuits, "Life is for Giving."
Marina took one of the offered biscuits and returned the words, also dictated by ritual. "I forgive."
She stepped aside while the porter took his biscuit and the words were exchanged. Marina had no idea what the ritual really meant, no one did that she was aware of, save that there was some great wrong done in the past and IT had been involved. Some thought they might have betrayed the silo to the Others at some point, possibly even during the time of the First Heroes. Historians weren’t positive about the answer and so, of course, they gave none and the tradition continued.
When he was done with his words, they entered the wide entrance to IT. Most of IT was freely open to any visitor. The only exceptions were the labs where delicate work was done, the server room, the suit labs and a couple of other spaces. Even in IT, where transparency in all things was strictly adhered to, private concerns such as performance evaluations or personal matters between people required some semblance of privacy. Yet even in those cases, windows cut into the doors to all such spaces were covered only from the exterior so that anything done there would be done under the eye of any person that wished to observe it.
Here in the lobby, this same open attitude prevailed. Turnstiles, long since relieved of the turning arms that might halt entry, formed simple columns of metal that impeded nothing. A conference room walled with glass contained a table and chairs to one side of the lobby and though no one was in there, a pitcher and a few cups awaited anyone who might need to stop and rest or be refreshed.
Marina walked to the other side of the foyer toward the service desk and smiled at the clerk, then quickly corrected herself and added a touch of her fingers to the center of her chest. It was meant as a gesture of sympathy and respect. The young woman wore the badge of IT but also the Badge of Honor. She seemed so young to have experienced the loss of someone from the circle of her primary relations to a cleaning.
The badge, a simple embroidered symbol of the three entwined circles with an X woven through it, was unmistakable and reserved only for those whose parent, spouse or child had performed the ultimate service to the silo that can be done; clean. Given that only one volunteer was selected every few years for cleaning, there weren’t a lot of people who wore that particular badge.
The young woman returned the gesture and the smile and then asked them what she might do for them. Marina's appointment was confirmed and soon the intercom in IT crackled as her contact was called to the foyer.
Marina turned to the porter, "What’s your name? I'm so sorry that I didn't ask before."
He ducked his head, looking a bit bashful now that he was no longer in his comfort zone of the stairwell, "I'm Roddy, Ma'am. Don't worry about it."
"Well, I'm where I need to be and I think this will take a while. Why don't you two go and have something to eat or relax." She waved toward the empty conference room and said, "I'll be very happy to rest and put my feet up for a bit if it ends early. Just check in with the clerk when you return and we'll link up."
He looked a little dubious but agreed and they parted, him handing her the sack of treasures carefully, as if she might fall down by accepting the slight weight of it.
He left and she saw the IT head’s shadow, the same man who had been sharing such significant and private looks with the head during discussions leading up to the Reclamation Resolution. She thought his name was Tyler or Taylor or something like that, but of course, she couldn’t remember which. He approached and offered his hand. They exchanged banal greetings and Marina noticed how his eyes strayed to the bag in her hand.
She lifted it a little and said, "These are the items. Shall we?"
He inclined his head and motioned for her to proceed down the hall with him. Falling into step next to her, he matched the slow speed of her awkwardly careful gait. "We're just going to one of the interior conference rooms. Everyone is here since we're running a bit late."
Though he said the words without any hint of accusation or blame, Marina cringed inside all the same. "I'm terribly sorry about that. I seem to have overdone it."
The man smiled a little ruefully and waved the apology away. "It happens more than you think. Especially on the way down when it doesn't feel like it should be difficult."
Marina nodded and tucked that small snippet away for when the family make the trip downward again. She peeked into the server room as they passed and marveled at the beautiful simplicity of the towers that contained so much complexity within. Things she had made or repaired lay within those towers and it was nice to see where some of her hard work wound up. She didn't want to hold up the proceedings any further so she looked for just a few seconds and continued on, the pleasant smell of warm electronics lingering in her nostrils.
They arrived at the end of the hallway at one of the conference rooms, the room number placard no longer remotely legible and the lines incised in it rubbed almost flat. The man opened the door and motioned her in before shutting it behind them. Inside, six people surrounded the small conference table, leaving two chairs empty, presumably for the man and her.
The head of IT, seated next to one of the empty chairs, called out, "Taylor, excellent. Thank you for escorting our guest. And Marina, it's good to see you. I hope the transport wasn't too uncomfortable."
Marina eyed the man, but she read only sincerity and friendliness in his eyes. She nodded slowly and replied, "Yes, thank you for sending it. I do apologize for the delay." This last she said to the whole group and hoped they could simply let the subject drop.
Introductions were made around the table and though Marina remembered most of them by face she was glad to have their names. The Historian, Greta, exuded an aura of calm but seemed friendly enough when introduced. She was an older woman and had held her seat on the council the longest of any member. Their terms were set at fifteen years. It took Histori
ans such a great length of time to master their craft and they were so few in number that a long term limit was required. Her face was also familiar from the resolution work but Marina had not worked with her directly prior to this moment.
The Resident Affairs member of the council, Darren, was already known to her given their work at creating the resolution in the first place. Piotr, the head of IT, was a non-voting member of the council whose role was to provide information to assist decision making. His presence here today was a bit confusing, as was the presence of his shadow since he had no role whatsoever in this matter. Of the three others, two were voting members and one was a proxy, standing in for the Mayor.
Introductions made, refreshments offered and refused and seats resumed, the group got right down to business. It was Greta who broached the subject of this hurried conference, "We are given to understand that you have discovered interesting items during the reclamation and wish to consult us about them before they are destroyed. Is this correct?"
Marina nodded, throat suddenly dry and feeling like a child in the presence of a much more experienced adult, "Yes, quite a few items actually. And since this is just the second level to be submitted, I'm not sure what else I might get in the future. I'd like some guidance so I can deal with future loads more confidently."
Greta dipped her head in a sort of quasi-nod, like a teacher receiving an exceptionally good answer to a test question. She looked at the bag still clutched in Marina's hands on top of the table. "Please, show us."
Marina cleared her throat and opened the bag. She began to withdraw items from envelopes and laid them on top, then slid each toward the center of the table where all might get a better view. She had about a dozen on the table before anyone spoke, each person either eyeing the items from their seat or picking individual things up and examining them more closely. She was arranging the bands with things that looked like blank faced watches on their envelope when the Historian gave an "ah" of recognition. Marina started, not realizing how tense she had become under the watchful gazes of these silent people.
Greta held up one of the curved clamp things and said, "This, I believe, is called a chit clip. Chits used to be much larger and when a person was going to shop, like at the bazaar where there are many places to buy, the chits could be held in good order in one of these. Efficient, but rather extravagant.”
Marina nodded, thinking of her experiment with the sheaf of papers, and they passed the clip around the table so that everyone could get a good look at it.
"What about the decorations on them? Each one is different and I don't know their significance, if there is any," Marina shrugged and ran her fingers over the strange symbol on the one she had been passed as it made its way around the table.
She could make out the letters, U.S.A.F. but the rest didn't make sense to her. She could only see that it was both detailed and beautiful. It must have meant something to someone. She rubbed her fingers across the engraving once more and then passed it back to Greta.
"Hmm. I'm not familiar with any specifically like this but it does remind me of the kind of symbols we run across now and then." She looked up, clicked a short nail against the face of the clip she held and said, "This one I would like to keep back. Anything with symbols of this kind might have some importance and I would like to examine any such before reclamation is finalized and the piece is destroyed."
"And they might not be important," Darren replied. "We need good and compelling reasons to keep back the silver. We all know the seriousness of our situation."
Greta nodded, all eyes upon her. "Of course. We all do know it and I am keeping it well in mind." It was a kind of rebuke, though Marina was quite sure the Historian didn't mean it to be belittling in any way. Darren went pink about the ears and looked annoyed.
"I'm just saying that if we hold back everything that might be interesting or might have some symbol someone might identify at some undefinable future point, then we'll have more held back than we melt down," he replied, the splotches of pink on his ears growing towards his cheeks as he spoke.
Again Greta nodded. "You're correct in the assessment that there is potential for a great imbalance in what is sent for reclamation and what is actually reclaimed if everything of interest is held back. Hence, I do not suggest that. I only suggest that symbols such as this one be examined by the Historians prior to destruction. There is much we don't know about the past. Our history is incomplete."
Darren went from pink to the full blown blotchy red of embarrassment. Marina felt sorry for him and understood where his concern was. He had been the first to see the value of her proposition when she brought it up and had supported the passing of the resolution. She decided that she had to come to his aid, at least obliquely.
"I understand what you're saying and I think I can arrange it so that any delay won't impact our supply." She faced Darren, holding eye contact with him as she spoke, "Your concern for the supply is valid and it is my fault that I haven't updated you. The load from Level 25 wasn't big, but it was enough to ensure we have stock for the immediate future. We won’t have to touch what remains in the vaults. We've also begun fabricating more manual switches in places where such can be done to decrease some demand. And IT...," she trailed off, looking at Piotr to fill in the gap.
Piotr took up the thread quickly and spoke, also directing it toward Darren as if the others were not in the room, "In IT we're consolidating the remaining servers as much as we can. It should save some wear and tear on the components. We're also working on some of the other automated processes, like climate control, to see where we can consolidate and reduce precious metal use." He glanced at Marina, confirming his next words and offering her the opportunity to add to or counter them, "We're in much better shape than we were."
Marina nodded gratefully and looked at the others around the room. Greta was observing the exchange with an inscrutable look on her face. Others either jotted notes or continued to handle the objects on the table while listening.
Darren's color receded some and he took a sip of water before carefully laying down one of the strange alligator clips. His fingers brushed against the little decoration that danged from the chain on the clip. This decoration depicted a strange shield shape with lines running down one part of it and stars across another. An animal of some sort with terrible clawed feet seemed to float over it while gripping wicked pointed objects in one foot and unidentifiable things in the other.
"What about this one?" he asked.
Greta held out her hand and Darren gently placed the object in her hand. All was forgiven and they could move along now. Marina immediately felt less tense and sensed that others felt the same.
She watched as Greta peered at the clip closely. Marina remembered that particular alligator clip. The work on the bauble was detailed and tiny, but exquisitely precise. Finally she pronounced her opinion and laid it carefully on the table. "I do not know the purpose of this item but the symbol is very familiar. We have found it in many locations and on a variety of objects, both small and large. It appeared to have some great importance or wider meaning that we have not ascertained. We have even found this printed on the upper portions of papers and on folders in our archives. Sadly, both of those were found in new condition, with no historical content. They contain no data other than this preprinted symbol. I don't think we need to reserve it permanently, but I would like to get a drawing of it. Compare it with the others too, perhaps. Sometimes there are slight differences."
The Mayor's proxy nodded, scribbling a quick note. "I think we should probably get a drawing or image of anything like that before destruction. Can we agree on that?" She looked around the table for affirmation or assent.
"Perhaps not everything," answered Greta. "Creating drawings of this detail takes a great deal of time and there are only so many artists who can do it."
The proxy just nodded and pushed the object she had been handling, one of the items with the rotating posts that had a black stone set
in its larger side, to the center of the table.
Marina took out the rest of the objects, reserving only the pocket watch. That envelope she kept encircled by her hands. The move was noticed by Taylor, who raised an eyebrow at her. Marina ignored the gesture.
There was silence for a while and the only sounds were the whisper of envelopes sliding along the surface of the table and the tiny clinks of metal as each item was examined. While others took their time looking at them, it seemed to Marina that the only one who was doing so with an opinion that mattered was the Historian. Eventually, she completed her examination and looked at the others around the table.
"I can't identify the purpose of many of these objects." She gestured toward the bracelet bands that looked like watches but with blank faces. "Others I have an idea of the uses. But what puzzles me is how these are being sent to reclamation. Who had them?"
Marina took out the list and slid it across the table toward Greta. "The objects I brought today are marked by a tick mark at their entry line. You can see that most of them were provided by the Hotel."
She had the attention of everyone now. Piotr's eyebrows drew together in a frown and she hurried on, "These weren't in use. Apparently, there is some sort of storage in the hotel and these were in boxes marked to be left alone. No one there had any idea of how long they've been there or for what purpose they were stored, but it's been at least as long as we have history. They brought them out and sent them down since no one knows anything about them."
Greta and Piotr gave each other a look so she added, "The resolution did mandate the turn in. They made a correct decision based on their information."
Taylor pointed toward the envelope still tucked behind the encircling protection of her arms and asked, "And that?"
Marina withdrew the pocket watch carefully and unfolded the cloth tucked around it. She laid it carefully on the little nest and slid it slowly toward the historian. "This was turned in by a resident. Aside from its beauty, it is also a timepiece and I think I might be able to repair it. I thought it might be significant enough to be of interest to the Historians. Only the case is silver..."
