Tears course down the sides of my face as I am hit with profound gratitude for my life before. I knew sunsets and the ocean and snowfall and mountains… I knew forests and fields of golden wheat and the way it felt to race a bike down the street with wind in my hair. I remember firelight on the beach, and sex on the grass, and sunrise coming up over the Grand Canyon, and if the children born in the Silo will never know those joys, at least I am happy that I’ve helped preserve memories in a few children… a few precious seeds to carry the truth onward through whatever hellish decades and centuries it will take until someday the world is safe again. If that day ever comes.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know there are keys rattling and the door to the cell creaking. I open my eyes and push myself up, my muscles stiff from a night on the hard bed. Turning, I steel myself for the sight of a Cleaning suit being readied.
Instead, it is Deputy Timmons, smiling.
“You’re free to go,” he says.
27
Like a bird released to fly, I race down the stairs, my feet hardly touching the treads. To know that I will not die today is astonishing and wondrous. I am alive!
The air smells sweet and the Silo—even this awful Silo—looks beautiful to me. How perfect the turns of the stairs! How glorious the design, like a DNA strand, like the twisting chambers of a nautilus. The red of the paint… I love it!
I laugh aloud… I am alone on the stairs, the night lighting still on, and the world all mine. How much better to live… even a limited life… than to have it ended today.
Oh frabjous day! My child, my baby, my Athena will be waiting for me. She will have her mother and I will have her. She will have… she will have a sister… or a brother!
And I will continue to share all that I remember with the children.
I arrive on my level—my beautiful level—and tiptoe into our apartment. I can hear the quiet snuffling of Athena in her bed, and I go in to her tiny room. My heart shatters with joy to see her again, and to know that she will not lose her mother today.
Quickly, I crawl into bed with Rick, who stirs slightly and then recommences his even breathing. He curls his long form around my back without waking.
I am home.
28
“Mommy,” I hear just before small arms wrap around me while I lie in bed. Rick is up, dressed and standing in the doorway to the bedroom, smiling. Athena climbs in with me.
Contentment washes over me to be with these two people who are my family. I am not quite sure how Rick came to be my family, but here we are, together. And soon we will be four, I think.
“Would you like some breakfast, sleepyhead?” he asks.
“I’m… yes, I’m hungry.” I am actually feeling friendly toward him. I shelve the question, hanging in my mind, of how long this could last.
Athena climbs back over me, having just climbed across me to get into the bed a moment before. “Daddy, let’s make Mommy corncakes. I can help!” She takes him by the hand and pulls him back to the kitchen.
I reach down and pat my belly, realizing that I have a secret. And it’s a secret I’m happy about, now.
After brushing my teeth I join Rick and Athena in the kitchen. We are happily eating our corncakes, burnt a little around the edges from the expert help of Athena, but nevertheless some of the most delicious food I’ve eaten in years.
Somehow I want to celebrate.
“Let’s go to the Up Top and see the wallscreen,” I say, turning to Rick. “We’ll take a little family trip. I don’t have class today, and you can take a day off, right, honey?”
“Please Daddy, please!” Athena is already out of her chair, jumping up and down holding Rick’s arm as he tries not to spill his juice.
A somber look replaces his unusually happy expression. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but today’s not a good day to go. There’s going to be a Cleaning.”
29
My walk back up the stairs is slow and full of dread. Full of disbelief. When I managed to get Rick to tell me what had happened, he was both angry and defensive.
“It’s Grace,” he said. “She… she turned herself in.”
I realized that my mouth was open. My stomach had somehow fallen below my body and my voice was a mere whisper. “Turned herself in…. For what?”
“For Delta and Jared… their suicides.”
“That… that’s ridiculous.”
Rick shrugged his shoulders and his eyes skittered away from mine. I went into Athena’s bedroom, where she was happily playing with her ragdoll. My throat clenched when I thought of what was going to happen to Grace, who had spent many kind hours watching my child.
“Athena, Daddy has to go to work and Mommy has to do some errands. So we’ll bring you to Jenna’s today to play, okay?”
She turned to me with a brilliant smile. “Can I bring Helen?”
I startled at the name. “You mean… your doll?”
“Yes… don’t you remember? That’s her secret name.”
Shaking off my surprise, I nodded. “Sure. Let’s get you packed up for the day.”
After dropping her off I had started on the climb. It is past lunchtime, and the stairs are fairly empty now. Not like they will be tomorrow, I realize with a shudder, when those who still want to see a Cleaning will tramp their way up the stairs. The next day will be much busier. All the kids will get a day off from school, and many adults will come up with their families to see the newly buffed wallscreen view.
Our third Cleaning. The first was Andy, and the second a man I hadn’t known. I didn’t even know what he had done to get himself sent Outside.
The third would be Grace. The first woman.
It should have been me, I think.
30
Grace wouldn’t talk to me at first. I got there just before they offered her a last meal. Deputy Timmons slid it into the cell—a cell I had been in mere hours before—but she didn’t eat it.
I sit outside the cell, quiet. I can see her, right there, inside the bars. She is lying on the narrow bed. I had started by asking her questions about what had happened, but after a while I stopped.
After the weak sun goes down, I start to hum. We don’t sing much in the Silo. It is frowned upon. But Grace isn’t going to get in any more trouble than she already is. And I don’t care about what is forbidden, not now.
I call to mind the words of songs from my own childhood… camp songs and kid stuff. A really old song my Mom sang… “You Are My Sunshine.” Such a simple concept… sunshine… but no one is allowed to sing about that down here.
I sing familiar tunes with words that are dangerous enough to get me in trouble on any other day. She shows no sign of listening.
Quietly, I begin a hymn, “Amazing Grace.”
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
Another voice has joined in. A gentle soprano with rich vibrato. It is Grace, singing from the cell.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come;
‘Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace will lead me home.
I stumble to a stop, having run out of verses, and then hear Grace’s sweet voice continuing alone. Of course she would know this song.
When we’ve been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun.
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’ve first begun.
There is silence after she stops.
“Grace, please, please… tell me what you did. Why did you confess to something that had nothing to do with you?”
As I say it, I know it is hopeless… she won’t talk to me.
“I told them it was my fault. About you. About Delta and Jared.”
Her voice comes from the far end of the cell, where she lies on the hard bed. I sit u
p straight, startled to hear her speak.
“What was your fault? What do you mean?”
“I told them that I persuaded you to use contraceptives and then gave you the tea to terminate your pregnancy.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you care?”
“I said that I didn’t want any babies born into this terrible life. You were easy to persuade because of the drugs—you didn’t really know what you were doing, I told them. Because you don’t remember basic things like reproduction and birth control.”
“I do, though.”
“They don’t know that.” Her voice is quiet, but clear. “I told them that your young friends Delta and Jared killed themselves because of me. That they jumped after I gave them birth control and told them it was all right to have sex without marriage…”
“But you didn’t even know Delta… why would you say such a thing?”
“Karma, it’s better that I put that suit on than you do. You have a life ahead of you. A daughter to raise… and perhaps another child. These young girls depend on you. They need someone like you.” Her voice rises and I can hear the pride. The stubbornness. “You’ll preserve the truth for the next generations… long after anyone who can remember is alive. It’s important that you do this. Important for humanity… what’s left of it.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Certainly more important than a few more unwanted years for me.”
“But I can’t let you do this.” I pull myself up on the bars and strain my eyes to see her in the dark cell.
“It is done.”
A rumbling comes from the Sheriff’s office down the hall. One of the suit technicians is trundling down the hall with his equipment, ready to put Grace into the ungainly apparatus that surrounded Andy when he died.
“Go now,” she says. “You don’t have to watch this.”
I stand up, angry in every fiber of my being, but at whom?
“Grace… this is crazy. You don’t have to do this. You can’t do this. Not for me. I don’t deserve it.”
The tech approaches, carefully ignoring my now whispered pleas.
“I can ask Rick to talk to the Sheriff… this is nonsense, Grace! I can tell them the truth… it can still be me instead of you….”
“Shh,” she says. “It wouldn’t be instead of. It would be both of us. Now is not your time, Karma. Go.”
I turn away, tears blinding me. As I leave, I hear one final message in a still, small voice.
“Your time may yet come.”
31
I stand in the cafeteria once again, watching a friend appear on the wallscreen. Grace turns in a circle, taking it all in. She looks almost jubilant. It must be something, to be out there, even with the terrible dust clouds and the death in the air.
She takes out the wool pads and cleans the lenses that we can see. As she does so I hear others entering the cafeteria behind me. Smaller bodies, with a lighter step.
Beside me, they walk up one by one. Rose, Willow, Mercedes, Steph, and Rachel.
I wish I could see Grace’s face, but the helmet has a reflective view panel, and I don’t see anything but dark shine. When she’s finished scrubbing and spraying, she raises one arm. The gloves are bulky, but I can see that she’s trying to do something with her hand.
And then I see it. She’s giving us the sign. The crossed fingers that show she remembers.
The girls and I raise our hands and make the R for Remember with our fingers.
“We taught Grace,” Rose says. “We taught her our pledge.”
“When?” I ask.
“When you were in jail. We came down to talk to her about you. And she said she would fix it.”
My eyes are moist. The girls start to chant together.
Whether down below
Or up above
We know the only truth is love
Secret memories
We will not tell
We’ll stick together in heaven or hell
Grace disappears from our view as she cleans the other lenses. There is silence for a long time. When she reappears, she gives a weak wave back toward us. She moves as though her body is already faltering.
Instead of heading off in the direction of the towers of Atlanta, she stumbles out of our view again, deliberately avoiding the wallscreen.
For a moment I am puzzled. And then I recognize that this is her final gift.
Grace will die out of sight. Her body will not lie desiccated and tragic, a memorial for her and a warning for us.
And I will carry on here in the Silo, knowing that she made that possible.
Until someday, perhaps, it is my time to go Outside.
DEEP JUSTICE
Karma # 3
“…most men and women will grow up to love their servitude and will never dream of revolution.”
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World
1
I can’t remember a more beautiful day in the Silo.
Erica holds my hand as her short legs tackle the last round of stairs before we reach Level One.
“Come on, Erica, you can do it,” Athena says to her daughter from behind me. I hear her add to her husband, under her breath, “Maybe you should have carried her a little longer.”
“Mommy.” Erica stops about ten steps before the landing, her hand leaving mine so that she can turn and face her mother, “I can do it myself. I’m six years old!”
The entire marriage procession, which is forced to stop as my granddaughter halts our progress, laughs at her defiant stance. I shake my head and smile as I look at the dark-haired child in her golden coveralls and the flower wreath Athena wove for the occasion. Another powerful Brewer woman in the making.
And then I correct myself. Not really a Brewer woman at all. She is Donald’s granddaughter, not Rick’s.
It’s been so long, sometimes I forget.
We resume our progress, and as we reach the top I can smell the banquet the cafeteria crew is preparing for our celebration. Savory chicken, sweet cakes, rice wine. Rick and I have spared no expense to make this a memorable day for Mars and his fiancée Ruth.
We assemble in front of the wallscreen, Mars and Rick beside me at the front, Athena and Ruth’s brother Moab to my right, and guests in chairs set out in rows before me. I think of Andy, as I always do when entering the cafeteria. His tattered suit and decomposing body have been a fixture in our view of the Outside for more than twenty years now. But today, instead of ancient pain, I get comfort from imagining my old friend looking on for this happy occasion. Would that he were standing beside me, wrinkled around the eyes and gray, an older Andy—I do the math—almost sixty, since I am fifty-seven, or about that. I would have loved to see him age as I have, perhaps happily remarried, with children and now grandchildren.
The assembled guests are looking at me attentively, and I give the signal to the wedding player to begin plucking his handmade instrument. We have gotten permission; music will be allowed today.
Little Erica walks up between the rows, smiling and throwing her flower petals with great gusto. She seems to think that the objective is to hit the guests. Fortunately, the blossoms make for pretty gentle projectiles.
Ruth appears at the end of the makeshift aisle, her brown hair glistening in long braids with flowers woven through the plaits. She wears a diaphanous dress of palest gold, and I gasp at her beauty. Tiny and delicate, with arresting green eyes, Ruth makes her way through the chairs with a natural grace. In another era, she would have been a dancer.
I’m not the only one gasping. Mars is nearly trembling with pride and joy beside me. I am so happy to see my son beginning married life with a young woman who is smart, strong, and deeply in love with him. His father, Rick, looks as content as I ever see him. It is indeed a grand day.
The guests have stood up for the entrance of the bride, and the wedding singer intones a familiar melody with strangely changed lyrics. Somewhere in time, between the days we lived above and the years we have live
d below, the words were rewritten.
Here comes the bride
To the top of the stair,
Soon to be half of a newlywed pair.
Lovely is she,
Tender and mild,
May they be chosen to have their own child.
Gathered today we will witness their vow
The Silo has sanctioned a new marriage now.
Here comes the bride
To the top of the stair,
They’ll follow the Pact through the new life they share.
“Dearly beloved,” I begin. I have officiated at dozens of weddings in my capacity as a Silo judge. But never before have I been both the one doing the marrying and the mother of the groom. I blink, once, to make sure the moisture in my eyes will not betray me and slide down my cheeks.
Concentrate, Karma. You don’t want to cry. This is a happy occasion.
I teared up when Athena got married, too. I wasn’t conducting the ceremony, so it was easier to have a discreet cry as my baby girl married the man she loved, Dylan. That wedding reminded me of my own even more than this one. My wedding to her father… the real one. The only one.
I don’t know how I became married to Rick. Or if I will ever know. It seems unlikely we had any kind of ceremony. Probably it was simply a matter of putting it in the records that way. Karma—original name Helen, but who would know?—wife of Rick Brewer… formerly Mick Webb.
A few keystrokes into the master server, and voila. A new life. A new wife. A past erased.
I bring my concentration back to the ceremony. I have said the abbreviated words that create a marriage in this world, and Mars has put a simple metal band on Ruth’s delicate finger.
Hurray. We are almost there and I’ve made it through—so far—without crying. Mars will be pleased. He didn’t want me to get all mushy.
“It’s just a wedding, Mom,” he told me when he was getting ready this morning. “Not a big deal,” he said as I helped him pin on the flower he was struggling with. Mars is so much like Rick. Close-mouthed, mostly, and determined to keep his emotions in check. Especially since he started shadowing his father down in IT.
Karma of the Silo: The Collection Page 9