Charlie brought out a plate of cold meats, a bread roll and some salad in one hand and a large drink in the other.
“Thank you,” she said, picking up a chicken drumstick and biting into it.
He sat down next to her.
The clouds parted and several stars were visible in the sky.
“Beautiful, aren't they?” she said.
“I've been reading about them,” Charlie said. “They look tiny, but they're actually huge, beyond anything we could imagine.”
“You're loving this, aren't you?” she asked.
“Loving what?”
“Loving the fact you've let me in on your little secret.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I guess I am. It's nice to be able to share my excitement with someone else.”
Susan leaned into him as she kept eating. Charlie put his hands around her waist.
“Space is fascinating,” he said, his eyes locked on the wall-screen.
“I saw pictures of stars last night,” Susan said. “And there was a golden planet with a series of beautiful rings stretching around it.”
“That’s Saturn,” Charlie replied. “Apparently, it’s a big ball of gas.”
Between bites, Susan said, “It is astonishing to realize those pinpricks of light out there are bigger than the silo.”
“Oh, so much bigger than the silo,” Charlie replied. “They're bigger than the entire Earth, millions of times bigger. Some of them are planets like Saturn, others are massive furnaces like our Sun, but they make the Sun look small. They're so far away, the sizes and distances are mind-blowing. And there's so many of them, far more than we can see with our eyes.”
“Really?” she said, biting into the bread roll.
“Yes. The numbers are stupidly large. I've never seen so many zeros in all my life. There's millions upon millions upon millions of them and they're millions of times larger than anything we've ever known.”
Susan sighed. There was only one lone star visible now as the clouds closed in, swirling through the dark sky.
“Each star has its own planets, just like Earth,” he continued. “Sometimes, I sit here wondering who's staring back, wondering if someone is out there looking at our sun and seeing just another ordinary, unassuming star floating among billions. I know it sounds silly, but I wonder if they wonder if there's any life down here. Sad thing is, if they could see our dead world, they'd never see us living in a hole in the ground.”
Suddenly, Charlie become animated. He couldn't sit still.
“Oh, I can't believe I forgot! Oh, woe is me, how could I forget?”
“Forget what?” Susan asked, finishing up the food on her plate in a matter of minutes. Her mother would have scolded for inhaling her food, but she was starving. She could have eaten another plate full of meat and barely felt it touch the sides of her throat on the way down.
Charlie jumped to his feet, he was so excited he had to move. Susan smiled, more to herself than for him. This is what she loved about Charlie, his raw love for life was intoxicating.
“You'll never guess what I saw,” he calling out as he ran off between the tables of the cafeteria with his arms outstretched on either side of him. As he turned he banked his arms, raising one arm and lowering the other and swooping to the side.
“What are you doing, you crazy man?”
“I'm flying.”
By now, Charlie was out in the open area, running from one side of the floor to another, gracefully swinging his arms as he leaned into one corner and out again.
“I'm flying, Sue. I'm flying.”
“What is wrong with you?” she asked, laughing, unable to suppress the smile reaching form ear to ear. She walked out from among the tables toward him as he swooped and soared with his arms outstretched.
“I'm flying above the earth. I'm an eagle. I'm a dove.”
She knew an explanation would be forthcoming, for now it was enough to enjoy his contagious enthusiasm.
He ran up to her panting for breath and came to a stop, resting his hands on his knees.
“You may be a bird, but you're not fit.”
He laughed.
“I saw them,” Charlie said.
“What? Birds?”
“No, not a bird, a flying machine.”
Susan was quiet.
“Before dawn,” he said, still struggling to catch his breath. “I should have slept in, but, you know me. I was up here and I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“Some kind of plane, just like in the books.”
“That's impossible,” she replied.
“I thought so too, but I saw it.”
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“I snuck back down into IT earlier this evening and double checked. It's called a drone. It's a fixed wing aircraft with a propeller, and I saw it out there.”
He was pointing high on the wall screen, above the hillside.
“It must have just taken off from below that rise. It was low, gaining height. Heading that way.”
Charlie pointed with reference to the silo not the screen. He was pointing in the direction of the sheriff's office.
“In the early light, it looked magnificent. Within less than a minute, I lost sight of it and it became nothing more than a speck in the sky, but I saw it. You know what this means?”
Susan was silent. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it meant.
“It means we're not alone. That this isn't the only silo.”
“That's blasphemy,” she replied under her breath.
“I know, but it's true. There are others out there. They must be just over that hill, hidden from sight. And they're technically more advanced than us. They have flying machines!”
Susan was stunned. She sat on the edge of one of the tables.
“Why?” was the only word passed from her lips. That one word encompassed so many questions. Why weren't they told about the past? Why weren't they told about the others? Why was someone launching aircraft? Whoever it was, they had to be looking for something. Were they looking for an end to the madness? Looking beyond the poisonous wasteland?
“Don't you see,” Charlie said. “This changes everything. We're no longer alone!”
Susan was shivering, partially because her body had cooled and the sweat that had once regulated her temperature now caused a chill to run through her, and partially because of what she was hearing.
“You can't tell anyone,” she said.
“Me? Who the hell would believe me?” he replied.
“I would.”
Chapter 06: Uplift
Lisa was true to her word. The next day she lobbied for a cushy route between IT and the Mids. There were lots of short hauls of only one or two levels at a time. The pay wasn't good, but a few chits were better than nothing and they'd already turned almost a week's profit on their run Down Deep. Susan was thankful for the easy pace. She didn't want to admit it to Lisa, but she was still sore from the day before.
“How was your date?”
“Oh,” Susan replied, unsure quite how to respond. As far as dates went, the evening wasn't romantic, and yet the glow in her face must have spoke of the excitement she felt at the dawning awareness both her and Charlie had of their world. In just a few days, the silo had gone from being static to something filled with potential, and the realization that there were others out there was intoxicating. Susan almost let that slip, but she knew the concept wouldn't go down well. It raised too many questions, even in her mind, like why would they be kept in the dark by those that know better? Trying to convince others of all she'd seen, well, all Charlie had seen, would have made the two of them appear crazy and she knew it.
She lied, pulling her ‘kerchief out of her pocket and wrapping it around her neck, signaling she was on the job.
“Candles ... flowers ... a foot rub.”
“Oh, he knows how to treat a porter,” Lisa replied. “I bet that felt good after the run Down Deep.”
; “Yep.”
“What's his name? What does he do?” Lisa asked.
Susan couldn't lie.
“His name's Charlie, from the dirt farms on six.”
“Charlie Pritchard!” Lisa cried. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Susan replied, feeling like she was confessing to a murder.
“Didn't his father?”
“Yes.”
Lisa was silent for a second or two. Susan could see she was trying to pick her words with care.
“Well, it's nice to know he has a romantic streak. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats a woman.”
“Yes,” Susan replied, feeling relieved by Lisa's comment. “You certainly can.” Lisa must have been thinking about the fictional foot rub, but Susan was thinking about his care in getting her something to eat and his trust in sharing with her about the hidden room.
“Well, good for you girl.”
Susan appreciated Lisa's discretion. She was old enough to be her mother and could have easily lectured her just as her mother had, but she didn't. She had to have known about both Charlie's father and his grandfather. Like so many others, Lisa had to have preconceived notions about Charlie, but Susan could see Lisa trusted her judgement, and she appreciated that.
“And it's a serious relationship?” Lisa asked. “You think it could go somewhere?”
“I hope so.”
Lisa smiled, rubbing her hand affectionately through Susan's hair. “Well, I hope so too. You're a good kid, Susan. I hope you go far.”
Kid, there it was again. Susan wondered if she'd ever outgrow that label. Truth be told, she figured she'd probably outgrow that term long before she realized she had, and then she'd wish for those younger days of innocence all over again.
The day dragged. Susan thought the day would never end. As much as she enjoyed porting, short runs tended to be over so quickly that they made the day seem longer. She desperately wanted to catch up with Charlie again. Was it love sickness? No, she figured it was just the desire for continuity, to keep talking and exploring this brave, new world of theirs.
No one else knew it, but for them the silo had been transformed. Once, the silo had been all encompassing. The silo was alpha and omega, the start and end of all life, and yet overnight their silo had become one among many. If there was one other silo, why not a third, a forth, a fifth? And whereas their silo suppressed knowledge, these other silos embraced technology. If they used flying machines, what other marvels had they resurrected from the pages of those books? Had they undergone a quiet revolution such as the one Charlie was trying to coax into being within their own silo? Could it work? Could the two of them slowly embrace change and get others to follow along? Susan felt giddy thinking about the possibilities.
She had dinner with her parents, but only because it was her father's birthday. They exchanged pleasantries. Susan kissed her father on the cheek as she gave him a gift, a new toolbox. Nothing was really new within the silo, recycled was probably a better term, but she'd also traded for a pair of tin snips and rivet punch, knowing he'd put them to good use. Their conversation around the dinner table had been trivial, full of pleasantries but no depth. No one dared broach the conversation from a couple of days ago, with both sides hoping enough had been said already.
As dinner came to a close it was clear nothing had changed. Susan excused herself after cleaning up the dishes. She slipped out the door quietly.
“Be careful,” her mother called after her, not daring to ask where she was going.
Susan whispered in reply.
“I will.”
She hurried up to the cafeteria, her feet seemingly carrying her on autonomously, barely touching the stairs as she climbed in the half-light. Somewhere around level three, she passed the Mayor and Hammond on the stairs. They were polite, bidding her a pleasant evening, and she felt rude overtaking them. She was polite in reply, but felt an irrational sense of deference to them, as though she should slow her ascent and follow along patiently behind them. She knew it was silly, but she still found herself slowing as she passed them.
Less than five minutes later, she reached the cafeteria and was surprised to find the lights on. It was just after 9 PM. Normally, the entire floor was deserted by then, but a small crowd had gathered by some scaffolding set up to one side of the sheriff's office, just in front of the mayoral office. Charlie was there, talking to Sheriff Cann. Susan jogged over.
“Hey,” she said somewhat wearily to Charlie. “What's up?”
Charlie excused himself from talking with the sheriff and walked way from the crowd as he spoke with Susan.
“Surprised?” he asked.
“What's going on?” she asked, in no mood for games. She had a fair idea what was going on but she wanted to hear it from his lips.
“I've set up a little demonstration,” he replied, trying to suppress a grin.
Susan pointed to one side, gesturing to somewhere deep below them within the silo, saying, “Of something we saw the other night?”
Charlie just smiled.
“You can't do this,” she pleaded with him. “It's too risky. Please, talk to me before you go doing anything like this.”
“Relax,” Charlie replied, reaching out and taking her hand. “It's OK. They're going to love this.”
Susan spoke under her breath, saying, “If Hammond finds out where your inventions are coming from, he'll skin you alive.”
“He won't find out,” Charlie said. “He won't even know until it's too late.”
“Ah,” Susan replied, raising her eyebrows. “You know he's on his way up here, right?”
Charlie went silent.
“I passed him on the staircase,” Susan continued. “He's with Mayor Johns.”
“Shit.”
“Shit indeed,” Susan replied, shaking her head softly.
“I'd hoped to get everyone on board before he saw this,” Charlie confessed.
Mayor Johns and Hammond walked from the staircase and greeted Sheriff Cann.
“So what's this I hear about some new invention?” Hammond asked, stroking his beard, his bullish voice carrying in the open area.
“Young Charlie's got something he wants to show us,” the sheriff replied, gesturing to Charlie. “Take it away, Charlie.”
The small crowd milled around the scaffolding, looking at the ropes reaching from a steel plate up to a cross-member sitting just below the ceiling.
“Ah,” Charlie began, trying not to look at his feet. “As you know, I like tinkering with things. I know, not really something dirt farmers normally do, but turning soil gives you plenty of time to think, and, ah ... so ... I've been thinking about how we could help each other, how we could help the silo to function better.”
Hammond wasn't going to be a passive spectator, that much was obvious. He growled under his breath, saying, “Silo works pretty darn well if you ask me.” A few others within the crowd mumbled their agreement.
“Well, Susan is here. And she's a porter,” Charlie continued.
Susan was horrified. He was dragging her into this without asking, without her even knowing where he was going with his demonstration. She tried to smile, but felt awkward, wanting to melt into the background.
“And think about porting for a moment,” Charlie continued. “What's the most weight a porter can carry? Fifty pounds? Perhaps sixty or seventy pounds on a short haul?
“What if we could carry a hundred pounds as easily as you'd carry a quarter of that weight?”
The crowd was quiet, even Hammond was listening.
“What if we could reduce weight to a quarter of its normal lifting load? And what if we could take heavy objects between levels in a matter of a minute or two?”
Hammond barked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I'll show you,” Charlie replied. “Here, I've got two fifty pound bags of barely. A hundred pounds of barley all together. Now, once a week, twenty men spend an entire day doing nothing other than runn
ing back and forth up the stairs with fifty pound bags over their shoulders to restock the kitchen. It's exhausting, backbreaking work. What if we could reduce this to just a couple of men working at a steady pace?”
Hammond folded his arms across his chest.
Charlie wasn't going to be deterred. He continued without breaking step.
“The ropes you can see winding back and forth to the frame above are actually just one length of rope wrapping around these wheels several times. The effect of this is that I can pull a hundred pounds of barley with the same amount of effort as it would take to pick up half a bag, a mere twenty five pounds.”
Charlie dragged the two bags of barley onto the plate, positioning them centrally. He then pulled on the loose end of the rope. The ease with which he could raise the barely was obvious. He quickly pulled the steel plate holding the two bags of barley up to the roof and then lowered it down again with little effort.
“Anyone want to give it a try?” he asked.
“It's a trick,” Hammond growled. “Those bags are empty.”
“I assure you,” Charlie said. “This is no magic trick, just a simple example of leverage in action.”
Hammond stormed over and picked up one bag and then another, barely lifting them off the steel plate before dropping them again, apparently satisfied with their weight. Sheriff Cann couldn't resist. He took up Charlie's offer, grabbing the rope and pulling on it, working it through his hands until the platform with the bags of barley was as high as it could reach.
“This is remarkable,” he said, lowering the barley back to the ground. “Think of what we could accomplish.”
Mayor Johns was silent. From her body language and the nervous motion of her eyes, it was clear the mayor wasn't going to wade into the discussion, she was waiting to see which way Hammond would lean.
“You'll put porters out of business,” Hammond cried. “Is that what you're trying to do? Are you trying to wreck an entire class of workers?”
“No,” Charlie replied. “I'm trying to help them carry more with less effort, fewer injuries and strains.”
“What the hell do you take me for, boy?” Hammond snarled. “A fool? I suppose you want to rig this thing over the Great Fall?”
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