by Ann Christy
It seemed too easy. Could she really find and then attempt to hide something so contradictory to all that they knew and then just go on vacation? It was absurd. But, then again, what about this entire situation wasn't completely absurd? Porters were called again for a person transport, much to her chagrin, and she began her long trip back down to the hotel.
It was late, the landing lights dimmed with only the red lights to provide some scant illumination. There was hardly any traffic at all now, third shift being the lightest manned. Every step sounded louder on the metal of the stairs than it did during the bustle of the day.
Marina took the time to think about her situation and how she should best handle it. She was under strict instructions—ones that she had agreed to abide by—to keep all the information she had to herself. She had found it difficult to agree at first, bristling at the thought of so much being hidden from the rest of the silo.
Greta and Piotr had understood her reservations and had patiently explained it all to her. In the end, it made too much sense for her not to agree with them. And they both hinted at more to be revealed. That was the problem with secrets. They were delicious and gave a certain pleasure when one shared in one, but that also encouraged more secrets. That bred dishonesty in its turn.
The Historian had been forthright and Marina sensed nothing at all dishonest in either her intent or her actions, merely caution. The secret rooms, the evidence within clearly pointing toward a deliberate destruction of some vast knowledge, were a source of disorder and insecurity for as long as the reason for the destruction was not known.
History was made of facts and it should remain as objective as possible. In the case of the burned books and maps one was led to two very different possibilities. Either the First Heroes that were the basis of their way of life had destroyed it purposely because it was dangerous to them or it was destroyed by the Others that tried to destroy humanity within the silo during the battle.
One could pick either scenario and make a case for it with a multitude of variations. But one could not be sure either was correct. What might occur if one chose wrongly in the deep future? If people decided that the enemies had destroyed the things and worked to repair them, but the truth was the reverse, what would the people unleash? And to add even more uncertainty, what if one part of this was destroyed by the Heroes and another part destroyed by Others?
These arguments, and others besides, had come from Greta with an earnestness that won Marina over and made it impossible for her to disagree. She evaluated her own motives and found that curiosity, an entirely personal curiosity that thought nothing of the well-being of others, was her true motive. She felt ashamed and had agreed to the condition.
When the porters lowered her chair to the floor of the hotel lobby, she gave them each her gratitude and a generous tip, took her bag and allowed one of them to escort her to her room. She was bone tired as she opened the door quietly. Inside, the room was dark save for the small sleep light that cast more shadows than light. Her husband and daughter were in their respective beds and it felt so good to be in their presence again she wanted to cuddle with them both and sleep for days.
In the dim recesses of the sleeping cubby that cradled her daughter, Marina could just make out the pale gleam of an out flung arm and the dark pool of her hair against the white pillow. On the other side of the partition, Joseph lay only on one side the bed, the side he had always taken in their years together. He, too, was fast asleep and the noise of his breathing, though not quite a snore, came across in the silence.
She stepped into the bathroom and got ready for bed. When she emerged in her undershirt with freshly brushed teeth and another dose of her pills swallowed, she saw that her husband was sitting up in bed, though he hadn't turned on any lights. She put a finger to her lips, pointed to where Sela slept and crept on tiptoes to slide in next to her husband.
He kissed her quickly on the lips, the kind of kiss that is more a reassurance than a true kiss, and asked, "What was all that? Don't tell me it was the reclamation either."
"I'm glad to see you, too," she whispered back with a bit of sarcasm in her tone.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm very glad to see you, but when I saw you last the mood was so thick you could bottle it for sauce. What happened?"
Marina smiled at him and brushed his cheek with her palm. "It really was about the reclamation and some of the items that are getting sent down. It seems a good many have historical value beyond their metal. But they must be chosen carefully so we don't wind up saving it all rather than melting it down. It just took a while and not everyone agreed on what to do." It was a sort of truth. Strangely enough, Marina didn't feel at all bad about what she said so she knew it must be right.
They were silent for a moment while Marina enjoyed the warmth of the bed and her sleep heated husband. She considered how different her next few days would be from their plan and how best to get that news out of the way. She turned to look at him in the dim light and gave him a kiss just a little better than one he had given her.
She said, “Instead of all the other things, I’m going down to the Memoriam. I’m going to get a quick lesson on what is important and what isn’t so I’ll be able to manage the deliveries. I’ll be able to meet you by the time you get to your mother’s again.”
"Hmph," came his quiet reply after a few beats. He slid down into the bed and got comfortable. He held out his arm so she might snuggle into him and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. They were quiet for a moment. "Well, if that is what you're sticking with there must be a reason so I'll ask you no more about it."
She kissed his shoulder where her head lay and whispered, "Thank you. I love you."
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 pr
ivacy.
"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.
