Ahotay, Silo 42’s Chief, sat up straighter in response to the significant conversation with a fellow silo head. The huge server room was almost silent except for the two humming towers that logged all the information about his silo on their digital drives.
“Byron you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. Even your shadow.”
“Ahotay, how long have we known one another?” he asked the rhetorical question.
Ahotay sifted through his memories before he answered. “Since you were a shadow over there. Must be twenty years now.”
“Twenty-two, to be exact,” Byron said proudly.
“You know how I feel about those devils in Silo 1. Your secret is safe with us.”
“Thank you, my friend. Stay safe.”
“To your survival,” Ahotay said as he ended the call and removed the headphones. He gazed at the long row of plugs that once connected him to all the other silo heads before going dark. The new network of connections had been secretly assembled and included only a small number of silos whom Ahotay knew well.
Ahotay sat back in his chair and contemplated his next action. He appreciated the simple pleasure of having a comfortable chair now that his every move was no longer scrutinized by Silo 1. He stood up and stretched his aching muscles. He needed to get more exercise. Perhaps Stewart, his shadow, would be interested in a bike ride or a walk.
He turned from the computer tower he had been sitting behind and gazed at the changes in the large server room. For almost his entire life, this room was the brain of the silo and contained the records of all events within the silo walls for the past one hundred years. These servers were also one of the largest power draws in the silo, not only to power them but also to keep them cool. It had felt good to shut most of these machines down and redirect that power to more positive activities. He was pleased that the space had been transformed into an innovation lab that would serve the silo’s needs for the next hundred years.
The traumatic events of almost five years ago had been etched into the memory of all but the youngest members of the silo. With over ten thousand residents inhabiting their concrete home, it was still going to take time for the terror of that day to subside. The coordinated plan devised by Vanessa and Stewart resulted in only a small number of tragic deaths, but saved the destruction of their home.
Ahotay tossed his long gray ponytail over his shoulder and headed across the room. Only a handful of the workbenches were occupied at this time of day. He smiled and nodded to several of the workers as he passed out of the room toward the main central stairway of the massive structure.
As he passed the main entrance to IT—or the Imagination Lab as it was now called—he saw Stewart engaged in a serious discussion with an older man. As Ahotay drew close, the conversation ended with the older man walking off in a huff.
“What was that all about?” Ahotay asked his young shadow.
“Oh, nothing. He was complaining about some kids hanging out in front of his store, supposedly scaring away customers.
“What store?”
“It’s ‘Tawdry Wares,’ an adult clothing store down on sixty-nine.”
“I know the place,” Ahotay said with a slight smirk. “We might want to send down a scout to make sure everything is copacetic.”
“I will arrange that,” Stewart responded.
“Having youngsters outside could dissuade some visitors,” Ahotay said as he thought through several past complaints from concerned parents.
“To be honest, I blame it on the live models.”
Ahotay looked back at his younger protégé with interest.
“Familiar with them, are you?”
“From a distance, of course. I may be married, but I am not dead.” The two men laughed at the ancient saying.
They walked together toward the railing overlooking the dizzying drop below. With one hundred forty-four levels, it took a metal five credit chit almost a full minute to drop the distance from level one. Given the temptation, Ahotay wondered why more items were not dropped either by accident or on purpose.
“Busy day,” the older man mentioned as he watched the endless flow of people moving up and down the well-worn stairs. “It’s hard to believe we did not think of using the micro-generators earlier.”
“Some ideas just need the right time to emerge. It is great we are now one hundred percent independent from oil. The added electricity from the stair generators is more than enough to run the silo.”
As they were talking, one of the counter-balanced lifts passed by with a full load of crates and several people on their way up. “I heard there was talk of making an express lift to cover fifty levels instead of the twenty these do.” He watched the lift as it moved higher.
“Yes, there has been exciting research being done in the innovation center to see if this is possible.”
“I still think a good Porter will beat out any lift over longer distances,” Ahotay said.
“Are you planning to attend the Porter Games next month?” Ahotay asked as they began to walk.
“Wouldn’t miss it. I especially love the tandem run. I’ve been asked to be a rider this year and am considering it.”
“Really!” Stewart stepped back to look Ahotay up and down. “You would need to sign up in the heavyweight division I assume.” He smirked at the truth of his comment.
“I assume you will be attending?”
“It’s on our calendar. What can we bring to the after-party?”
“Miriam loves your hemp pesto.”
“Put us down for it. Good chatting, but I have a meeting, so I’ll catch up later,” Stewart said as he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
