Too many teenagers, and not enough work. No military, no sports teams, no school past sixteen. Instead, they fight each other.
3
Ruth sets out the chairs in the small classroom. I put chalk on the tables in front of the slates. We still draw while we talk, giving cover for our cell meetings.
“How’s Abe?” I ask her quietly.
My daughter-in-law nods at me as she continues to arrange the seating. “Banged up, but okay. He felt terrible. He didn’t get there fast enough, he says. Someone could have died, he told me.”
“Ruth, there’s only so much he could do. It’s out of hand. Thank god he didn’t try to take on all those kids by himself.”
She stops and looks at me. “I know. I know.”
She shivers visibly and then sits beside me. “It’s worse in the Mids. There were two murders last week.”
“Oh my god. How…?”
“A Gearhead from down in Mechanical stabbed someone, and then the Dirt gang members threw him over the railing in retaliation.”
I shake my head. “Can’t the Sheriff do anything?”
Ruth runs her fingers through her dark hair, sprinkled with gray. “She’s trying. She’s added another deputy for each section, and there are the level guards… but it’s out of control.”
“Why haven’t there been any Cleanings?”
As soon as the question is out of my mouth, I am astonished. To think that Cleanings would be a good solution for anything is out of character for me. I give my daughter-in-law a rueful glance. “I can’t believe I said that.”
“I can’t believe you did either.” Ruth almost smiles, then shakes her head and goes back to arranging chairs. “We’ve got to come up with a way to channel all that frustration—all that anger.”
I nod, as the rest of the cell members begin to come into our makeshift meeting hall. “Instead of fighting each other, we need to fight against control from the top. Get them to help us with the resistance work.”
I see Ruth’s eyes cut to the door and stop talking as Celeste comes in. My lovely young granddaughter, walking the tightrope between cell membership and shadowing her father, Mars, to be the next Head of IT… a girl with great balance and a shaky future.
“Hi Mom,” she says, giving Ruth a hug as she passes by. She leans over me, taller than I ever was, and certainly much taller than I am now. “Hi Grandma.” She gives me a kiss on the forehead and plops down into one of the schoolroom chairs.
“I can’t believe how tiny these are. This whole room used to seem huge to me.”
“That’s because you were tiny when you went here, sweetheart,” I say, and squeeze her hand.
“How’s Grandpa?” she asks. Ruth looks up, awaiting my answer.
“He’s doing better,” I say. “His arm has bothered him for years, so that’s not going to change, but the headaches he was complaining about have disappeared.”
“So the doctor doesn’t think it’s… anything serious?” Ruth asks.
“Actually, the doctor says his cognitive function is good for a man of eighty-five. He says that it’s hard to believe Rick went through all that… trouble, years ago.”
“What trouble?” Celeste asks.
“Before you were born, honey,” Ruth says, before I can answer.
“Oh yes… the uprising. Dad’s told me about it.”
I raise my eyebrows at Ruth and let the conversation end as others begin to enter. But I do wonder what Mars has told his daughter about the uprising that took place before she was born. In fact, I wonder what he’s told her about everything.
4
I walk back to seventeen slowly. There is no trouble on this return trip, but I am relieved when I reach my floor. My knees are old, and even a trip of two levels makes me tired.
I’m happy to see that Rick is home. He’s standing at the stove making something that smells of onions and garlic.
“What’s that honey?” I ask, giving him a gentle hug from behind.
“Oh, you’re home.” His hearing isn’t what it used to be, and he’s often taken by surprise now. He shuffles back slowly from the stove and wraps his arms around me. One arm has limited range of motion, but there’s lots of affection in his grasp. “How was your meeting?”
We don’t keep secrets from each other any more. What a relief it was, after the uprising, to be able to let down my guard. Once Rick was no longer Head of IT, he didn’t have to lie about anything to Silo 1—or to me. For years thereafter, as he regained his ability to think clearly, I was the one helping him navigate life. The balance shifted, and it never went back.
I step over to the pot and lift the lid to take a whiff of supper. “Smells great. The meeting was good. We have increasing support—all over the Silo. The problem is the fighting.”
“Abe stopped by today and told me about it,” he says. “It was a problem with the birth rate. It’s in the book—you have to carefully balance the population. Too many young people and they get restless.”
I sit down at the table in our kitchen and take off my shoes. My feet ache all the time now.
“So what does the book say you should do if there are too many young people?”
He looks over at me grimly. “It says to find something to occupy them before the fighting between them leads to fighting between everyone.”
5
It’s a game Rick and I have played for years.
“What do you miss most?” he asks me when we are alone.
“Cars,” I say, this time. “Riding in an open car with the breeze blowing my hair.”
“Ah,” he says. “I remember seeing you that way, once, when I visited you and Donald in Savannah. Racing up in a red convertible. You were so sexy.” Rick looks at me with the hungry eyes of memory. Of youth. “Donny and I had grabbed a rental at the airport, because I had to take another meeting the next day. You rushed home from somewhere in that red car—”
“I was probably late to walk the dog. I was feeling guilty.”
“Yeah,” Rick nods. “I remember you had a beautiful dog. What was his name… her name?”
“Karma,” I say.
“Karma was the name of your dog?”
We look at each other and howl with laughter, and my laughter turns to gentle weeping.
6
I hear a knock at my door and use my arms to help lift myself out of the chair. “Coming,” I say, and then pause for a moment. “Who is it?”
“It’s Abe, Grandma. I brought you some stuff from the farms.”
I swing the door open to see my grandson standing there with a backpack full of greens and carrots.
“Thank you so much, honey. Your grandfather will have a fine time cooking with this.” He walks in and gives me a big hug, and reveals a carbon copy standing behind him.
“Oh, and I brought this guy back up with me, too,” he says, jerking his head toward his twin.
“Ben!” I say, and hug his brother as he shuffles in smiling. I can’t believe how tall and strong they are—men now, at eighteen. “Both of you at once! How wonderful.”
Abe puts the produce into the keeper while I start to boil water. “Some tea, boys?”
“Sure, Grandma,” Ben says, as Abe rolls his eyes. “Thank you.”
“What’s the matter, Abe, you don’t like tea?” I ask.
“Abe prefers the hard stuff now,” Ben says, chucking his brother in the side with his elbow. “Since I left, he’s a little lonely.”
“Lonely, hell! I’m thrilled to finally have enough room in the bedroom to stretch my arms out. Not to mention that it doesn’t stink as much now that you’re gone.”
The two of them start playfully cuffing each other, looking like stretched-out versions of their toddler selves. “No roughhousing in here, please. Save it for the hallway, or your mother’s place. My bones are too delicate.” I reach for an open canister of tea that is just about to be swiped off the table by Ben’s long arm. “And so are my things. Sit down and settle down, ple
ase.”
They do, reluctantly. Nodding at his brother, Ben laughs and says, “Looks like you got knocked around recently. Can’t handle the heat without me in your corner?”
I see Abe bristle at the comment. “It wasn’t much of a fight. More of an ambush.”
Ben’s demeanor changes instantly. “What happened? Was it a gang thing? I didn’t think that had gotten up this far.”
“Well, they have the face tats,” Abe says. “But so far they’re only threatening. Not killing.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ben says as I pass him a mug of tea and sit down beside them.
“I heard there’ve been deaths in the Mids,” Abe says, turning his chair around and straddling the back. “And that things are bad in the Down Deep.”
Ben nods, putting the tea down on the table between us. “No jobs to shadow for—more kids than work. That’s why I’m down digging in the dirt.”
“Farmer Ben,” Abe says as he reaches over and gives his brother a thump on the back. “You’re gonna keep us all in tomatoes.”
“We’re going to need a lot of tomatoes—and everything else—when people your age start having babies,” I say.
This actually makes Ben blush a bit. “Yeah, like anyone would ever marry an ugly runt like Abe,” he says, to cover up his reaction.
“Hey, who you callin’ a runt? Everyone knows I’m the good looking twin.” With that, Abe is up and rubbing his knuckles across Ben’s head.
“Boys!” I shout, but it’s too late. The tea is all over the table, and Ben is leaping out of his chair to avoid a sudden bath.
“You idiot,” Ben grins at his brother while he backs away from the steaming mess. “No matter what you do, the girls will still like me better.”
“In your dreams, bro,” Abe shouts, and they begin to tussle again, as young men will, working off that excess testosterone.
7
I haven’t seen the first level cafeteria in nearly a year. It takes me a slow, careful several hours to walk up here now. But I’m glad that I did.
The whole family is together, and that doesn’t happen often.
Anita and Dylan have come up from seventeen, and my granddaughter Erica and her husband Lloyd walked all the way up from the thirties, with little Jamie on Lloyd’s back.
Ruth, Mars, Celeste, Abe, and Ben are all there. The rest of them them could have walked up and down twice—at least—in the time it took me and Rick to make the trip.
We sit at two tables pulled together, and I am happy they gave me a view of the Outside, even with the ever-present dusty mess of a sky that is our legacy.
It’s wonderful to have everyone gathered. This is the first time the whole family has been together since my great-grandson was born. My heart is full as I gaze around the table.
Mars pours wine for all, the boys now being eighteen. “To Mom and Dad,” he says, raising his cup.
“Up Tops!” everyone says, using the traditional Silo toast. I feel the rice wine slide down my throat and cough a little bit at the unexpected taste. I have never gotten used to the foul beverages in the Silo. But I live with them. The wine is sour and the tea is bitter. I wonder sometimes what it’s like for someone who never tasted the fruits of an abundant Earth.
Rick must have read my mind. He turns to me and smacks his lips. “Very… unusual,” he says, and only his comical expression gives him away.
“Isn’t there some of the good stuff still, down in IT’s secret lair?” I whisper, leaning over toward him.
But it’s no use—he can’t hear me. “What?” he says with his brows furrowed.
“No whispering down there, you two,” Erica says from the other side of the table. She turns to my daughter Athena. “Isn’t it cute, Mom, how the two of them are still in love after all these years? Like me and Lloyd, only about… fifty years from now.” Erica rocks the baby and looks like the picture of happy young motherhood. Lloyd puts his arm around her back.
“You’ll still be beautiful, hon.” His voice startles Jamie, who snuffles and then cries. The two of them stand up to walk the infant around the cafeteria, where others coo and admire the baby, a sight that has once again become rare and precious.
Ruth looks down the table at us and smiles. “Must be nice,” she says, “to be so well loved.” I am startled by her words. And then I see Mars look toward his wife with annoyance. Celeste, in turn, draws her brows together while watching her parents.
The seeds of disagreement have been brewing for years.
8
I can remember the first time Ruth walked into a meeting of the resistance cell with Celeste and the twins. They were very young, and we didn’t often have children that age attend. Celeste was probably thirteen and the twins about seven.
Ruth caught my eye as she sat down in front of the classroom board that we still used to draw pictures and tell stories on. There was a rebellious air about her, and the boys seemed bouncy and excited.
“Ruth,” I whispered. “Does Mars know you brought the kids?”
She shook her head and turned her face away from her children. “No. But it’s time for them to learn the truth about the Silo and the world that once was.”
I can’t remember what we talked about at that meeting, years ago. I do remember being afraid that a rift was forming between my son and his wife. Ruth was always a strong woman, but until that day I thought she would use all of that strength in support of her husband.
9
“Celeste is not going to shadow you in IT,” Ruth said. “I told you. That’s not the kind of life for her.”
Mars stood by the door of our apartment, his brows lowered and his arms crossed as he stared at his much-smaller wife. “She’s sixteen. She wants to shadow me. And aren’t you the one always telling me that women have the right to make their own choices?”
I looked over at Rick, who was sitting at the table with me. He seemed surprised at both the news and the anger between Mars and Ruth. But he didn’t seem inclined to interfere.
I was just glad that Celeste wasn’t here to watch the argument. Of course, it was probably being fought at home, too.
“At sixteen, she doesn’t yet know what’s best for herself,” Ruth said, pushing back her chair and raising herself to her full height. She faced her husband squarely. “I’m still her mother, and I’m going to help guide Celeste until she’s mature enough to make such a decision.”
“And I’m her father. Do I get to ‘guide her,’ too? Or is that only for the women?”
“We both get to guide her. But I don’t think she’s ready to shadow you in IT. Not yet,” Ruth said. “Not now.” She walked closer to Mars, and there was concern in her voice. “Please. Wait until she’s seventeen.”
Mars inhaled slowly. “I don’t know what difference that will make. Do you think you’ll persuade her not to come over to the dark side if you have another year to work on her?” He gave a sort of snort that may have been an attempt at a laugh.
Ruth didn’t answer him directly. “One more year,” she said, and held up her index finger.
10
“Mars is angry all the time, Karma.”
Ruth sits in front of me now, at my little kitchen table. She has her chin in her hands and is staring at the tea I just poured for her, steam forming a fragrant cloud above the cup. Her eyes rise to meet mine. “I don’t know what I can do. Celeste is loyal to her dad now. She barely speaks to me, though she still comes to some of the resistance meetings. And that’s probably just to keep track of what we’re up to. I don’t know exactly where she stands. I know she’d move out of the family home if she could. If there were enough apartments.”
“What’s he angry about?” I ask. But I know. We all know.
“Everything. He knows that I’m active with the resistance. He knows that the boys are on my side. And that they’re doing what they can to forward our cause. He just… he hates all of it.”
I sigh. Mars would dearly love to stop all this agitation and simply l
ive a life that complied with the rules from up above.
“He wants to keep us all safe, Ruth. He’s afraid of what could happen if we attract attention.”
“I know that,” she says, and stands up, pushing her chair back roughly from the table. “I know that, of course. I know he’s a good man, and he’s done everything in his power to keep this Silo humming for… hell, almost… well, twenty-five years now, right?” She sits down again, and smiles ruefully as she picks up her tea. “We had our anniversary last month. There was no celebration.”
I reach out and pat her hand. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure it will get better. Marriages go through their ups and downs—”
“This one has been going down for a decade, Karma. I’m afraid there’s no way to change directions now.”
She takes a sip of tea and shakes her head as if to clear it. “But we have to talk strategy while I have you. The twins want to recruit some of the gang kids into helping us—we could use the manpower, and they could use some constructive work.”
“They would help us?”
“Well, they might if two guys their age ask. It’s a long shot, but….”
I nod. “It certainly would be good if they had something to do. Other than fighting each other. Killing each other.” I pick up my mug and sip at the bitter tea. “So… when does this start?”
“Today.”
11
I walk into the little classroom for our meeting. A dozen young men with piercings and Dagger tats on their faces are leaning against the far wall, eyes wary and arms crossed. There is a palpable energy in the room that I have never felt before.
Energy. And danger.
I’m relieved to see that Abe and Ben are both here, along with Ruth and regular members Rose, Mercedes, Steph, and a dozen others, mostly women in their forties and fifties.
Karma of the Silo: The Collection Page 19