by Ann Christy
It was fast getting down that slope. The only trouble was trying to not go faster than her feet could go and tumble all the rest of the way down. It was almost impossible not to take in all that was before her but the burning actually helped her stay focused. The water. Why hadn’t she thought of it and run closer to it? Now she would have to meet it and that was time she didn’t have.
“Lillian, you’re going to need to open your suit as much as possible and fill it with water, all the way to the helmet.” Greg’s voice was so calm she wanted to laugh or slap him, perhaps both.
She couldn’t answer him but she could grunt, so she did. The mouth grip inside her mask was clenched so tightly between her teeth she thought she might bite through it. The keys were what she should use but running while trying to tap a key on a moving leg was ridiculous and ineffective. Now her complaints during training were borne out by the evidence of her run.
The stream had looked so tiny before, just a thin meandering no wider than the tank she had trained in. The stream grew as she came closer. Jumbled rocks littered the bottom and jutted up from random points along its length, creating a white rush of water behind them. It was beautiful. It didn’t look particularly deep and she thanked whatever force of nature had provided all that water from the sky and made so much run off for the lake below. She would work out how such a perfectly round lake was made to sit lower than everything around it some other time. For now she wanted the burning on her skin to stop. And she desperately wanted to live.
Crispy plant life, dead but not eaten by the air, crunched under her feet and the green ground ahead of her was so close she could see individual plants and blades of sharp green leaves. A green vine ran along the ground ahead of her, still the pale color of new growth. When she stepped over the ragged border to the green, she could feel the change even through her suit. The earth was soft and pliable and resilient where her feet hit it, almost like it was springing her back with each step. It was a silent, welcoming ‘Go’ from this new world.
There was no way to run straight to the water. She found that out when her feet sucked into soft mud more than twenty paces out, her feet smashing green into the brown muddy earth. She pulled her foot out, the echo of the sucking sound making it even through her helmet. She had no more time. The burning on her cheek had shifted into a deeper pain, a gnawing pain and the warmth she felt pooling was not sweat or tears.
Lillian sloshed into the water. Though it only came to just above her knees, it was brutally hard to keep her feet beneath her. It pulled with astonishing force so she dropped to her knees behind one of the rocks, using it to brace her stomach while she extracted her knife. There was no careful examination of her suit, no pause to be sure she was doing it right. She couldn’t have said she thought of anything except stopping the burning on her back and her cheek.
Using one hand to pull the suit front forward and bowing her back, she plunged the knife into the front of her suit and made one long ripping cut down the front. She threw the knife as hard as she could, saw it land well back on the muddy shore and let herself fall onto her haunches, wrapping her legs around the rock as best she could.
The mouthpiece, with its precious stream of air, was still stuck firmly in her mouth so she grunted just once and let herself fall into the clean, cold water.
Greg
The grunt was one so full of weariness and pain that he broke a switch on the control console when he tightened his grip. The bit flew off and away without his notice, but Zara’s hand pulling his caught his attention and he let her lift his hand free.
The world skewed and rolled as her helmet went backward, into the water and for a moment, all he saw was blue sky filled with wisps of white. Her reflection came sharply into focus before dimming in the bright light. The bloody streaks of red over the right side of her face were terrible, but the milky white eye was worse. There was no way she could survive such contamination. Her luck had brought her where she was, achieving the unimaginable, but would it serve her further?
Her face pulled away from the mask inside her helmet, her cheeks puffed up with air, and water bubbled and flowed over her inside the helmet. The air trapped inside would continue to provide a haven for the eaters already inside but the moment she filled that helmet, the camera would also stop working.
Realizing he had just a moment of grace, he hit the buzzer meant to grab the attention of a sick or straying runner and saw her eyes pop open under the water. “Turn on the other ball before the key gets wet!”
Her head nodded just the smallest touch in the constricting helmet but a moment later the last ball’s screen lit up with a view of bubbling flowing water and the ground beneath the water. It was still in her rack and fully waterproof, encased as it was in glass. They could only hope she didn’t smash it on the rocks so dangerously close to it under the surface.
“Good. We have a picture. You need to get the helmet off.”
Again the nod, her eyes open and looking skyward in a strange combination of wonder, pain and fear. They could all see that she was moving about, but not what she was doing. It was only the little jerks of her head that gave it away. With a lift of her head, she squeezed the lower part of her face into the mask and he could tell the moment she breathed. Greg had no idea how she had managed to even hold a breath after that run.
She seemed to gather herself for a moment then water rushed in and covered her face. The camera clicked off, submerged at last, but he could have sworn he saw her reflection slide away before it happened. The camera ball jerked and moved, but gave him nothing else. Now he would have to wait.
Lillian
The sliding catches would not come off. The relief she felt when the water washed into her suit and across her body was so delicious and immediate she almost cried. That feeling passed the moment she realized her entire suit was filled with water and billowing around her like the little cloth parachutes children sent sailing down from the stairway with notes for random strangers attached. She tightened her grip on the rocks, her legs around it and her feet locked together to hold her fast.
She couldn’t get the gloves off. Her fingers were too bulky inside the gloves even for that, which was ironic. Given enough time and water, the heat tape might wash off but even then, the locking rings needed two hands to turn, each ring turning a different direction. Lillian’s eyes and face felt good under the water, but she needed air and she needed out of the suit. Or, at least she needed her arms out of the suit. Even one arm would do the trick.
Wriggling as far as she could to tighten one side of the suit and create some room, she began to pull her arm out of the loose sleeve. The water worked with her, expanding the sleeve enough for her arm to slip out with a final frightening twist that made her sure she would pull her shoulder out of its socket. She jammed her face to the mouth piece, exhaled all her air into the mask to clear it of contaminants and then sucked in a breath. She used her one free hand to work the catch while the clumsy gloved one braced her helmet.
The water was bitterly cold, far colder than the tank or any water she had ever put her body in. It felt refrigerated and her teeth began to chatter, making it hard to keep her grip on the mouthpiece. The catch slid free on the outer layer. The second catch just underneath slid with barely any effort. It came free so fast she barely had time to take a decent breath when the helmet filled entirely and her head was carried under the water with it.
She slid free of the helmet, hearing the faint zzzt of electronics frying as she did and barely caught the helmet before it washed away down the stream back the way she had just come. Breaching the surface of the water brought the sting of air against the exposed flesh of her cheek. Her hand was halfway up to it before she stopped and clenched her fist, breathing through pursed lips to calm the pain. The water rushed past her and made it hard to stay upright, even with her legs still securely around the rock. With a suit filled with water, ripped and one arm waving free, plus a water filled helmet, it was hard to stay secure.
She upended the helmet and tossed it toward the bank where it landed with a splatting sound in the mud. That was alright by her so long as it didn’t roll back into the water.
Even with all of this competing for her attention—and the rapidly approaching dilemma of what to do next—it was the world around her that captured her attention. The rock had enough free space left for her to hook an arm around it. Its rough texture felt good and safe against the buffeting effects of the water churning past her. The cold water pressed against her back and brought chills. Eventually, she was going to have to get out of this water. First, she just wanted to lean her head back and see what she had come so far to see.
Above her the sky stretched wide in ways that were almost frightening, the blue of it bright above her and fading to the far horizon till it was almost the color of the water. White puffy things floated past in the sky and Lillian wondered what they were. They looked like batting pulled out of a mattress, or huge feathers floating by. Whatever they were, she wanted to pull them down and see if they were as soft as they looked.
The green field looked nothing like the farms of the silo, with their ordered rows and patches. It was a riot of bright new growth and dotted all over with tiny white blossoms so short and small they were half hidden. The trees were almost an absurdity. Why should a tree grow so tall? Who would ever be able to reach up and harvest it at such a height? And many of the trees were strange, with no branches down low and foliage that looked like clumps of bristles.
It was interesting that no trees were close to that line of half deadness—the dead line. It was a sharp demarcation despite its width. To her it looked like the lines painted around doors to keep people back from places where urgent access might be needed, like medical. A sort of sign that told anyone nearby that this was a place not meant for loitering. Could it really be that simple? Was there some line around the silos beyond which all was this beautiful paradise? Who would do that, and why? She was tired, her face and back stung and her legs felt like wet paper, but it was time she shifted herself and did what she could to find out and tell those back home.
On the shore, her footsteps had churned up the mud and smashed the green blades of the plants. She felt unaccountably guilty about that. Her people had been working for so long to find such a miracle and the first thing she did was mash it to bits. The arm of her suit was flapping in the water, tugging at her with each movement so she grabbed it and flipped it over her other shoulder.
Groaning with the effort and the pain in her knees and thighs, she unwrapped one leg from the rock and wedged herself tightly to it. Her position was lucky, not secure. Crawling with exaggerated care over the rocks and pebbles that rolled under her hands and knees, she dragged her tired body to the shore and let herself fall into the cool mud. It smelled like life and she squeezed it between her fingers, reveling in it. A tiny insect, no bigger than the nail on her pinkie, crawled with sublime disinterest along the shore in front of her face, intent on its errand.
“Hello, bug,” she said in a scratchy voice, then giggled when it stopped on stiffened legs at the touch of her breath. It hurried on and she took care not to breathe its way again.
The cool breeze felt downright cold as the water drained from her suit or pooled in the feet and she shivered so violently the rack on her back rattled and clanked. One deep breath, teeth gritted against the multiplying discomforts of her body and she finished her undignified crawl to dry land. There was no part of her not covered in mud and she looked back at the clear water with longing. It was an irony.
Peeling the suit off was a relief and an agony. The skin suit was soaked but the temperature was far too low outside for her to take that off as well. The camera ball was her first goal and she plucked it from the holder with fingers clumsy from cold. The gimbal inside was spinning the camera and she thought it was probably making everyone inside want to vomit. It took a turn or two to get the gimbal frame level so the camera spun level. It was facing her rather than the scenery. With her back to the brown dusty world she had left behind, she held the ball up before her and waved.
“Hey, I’m here!”
Greg
The bouncing, discordant images of bubbles and water, with occasional glimpses of Lillian’s suit, seemed to last forever. Around him the sounds of people mourning the loss of a runner grew, as if she were already dead. Jeremy, always considering the next year’s race, pulled aside the Mayor and immediately launched into how they would make this less impactful. The decontamination team gathered in tight clusters. Some cried, other hugged but all were mourning in their own way. The historian ordered young eyes to watch the screens should any clue appear in the confusion of water, but then turned away to look at the drawings made during the race, excited about capturing details of the land they had seen so briefly.
Only Zara’s attention never wavered. She moved next to him, her hand on his arm, and they watched together. The movement of the ball, and the body attached to it, might be mistaken for the random motion of the water, but Greg saw purpose there. A jerk in one direction and a relaxation in another all spoke to Lillian working out the problem in her own way. So he waited.
When the view suddenly shifted, lifting free of the water and spinning far too quickly for any sense to be made of it, Greg shouted for silence. The view lumbered to and fro in a motion instantly recognizable.
“She’s crawling out!” he shouted and was rewarded with a single whooping cheer amongst the held breaths in the room.
A puddle of suit covered the ball as it fell. Darkness was broken only by a thin sliver of light for a moment before it bloomed again. He saw Lillian’s fingers as she turned the ball and then there she was. A face five feet tall and more beautiful than anything he had seen in his life filled the screen. She held the ball a bit away from her, sharpening the focus on her features, smiled and waved. There was no sound but there was no mistaking her words.
“Hey. I’m here!” she mouthed and grinned.
Blood diluted by water stained one side of her face and neck before it disappeared at the neckline of her skin suit. She was soaked, that much he could see, and her teeth chattered as she smiled. What he had seen before had been no mistake, though he had wished with all his being it had been. One of her eyes was milky white where it should be amber. The skin of her cheek was gone in a strange blotchy pattern and, he noticed suddenly, her birthmark was gone beneath the angry red flesh. But she was smiling as if nothing were wrong, as if there was no pain.
Behind her the wall of brown that was their world loomed. Without the backdrop of blue to shine through it, it was as grim as ever he had seen it and more like what they saw from their own sensor every day. She spun around, holding the ball steady so that it appeared the world was spinning around her and the scene changed. Her grin grew as she was framed in the new world she had found for them.
She started and her face turned away as if some sound had reached her. She searched and then he saw her break into laughter. She seemed to forget the ball for a moment and they were treated to the jarring images of her jumping up and down, her arms waving. When she remembered herself, she turned the ball to face away from her, careful to keep it level and then raised it up so they could see what had excited her so.
Strange shapes dotted the sky and swooped in various directions in the distance. Up close there was a shrub or small tree that Greg didn’t recognize. Hopping from branch to branch was a bright red animal, a cocky pointed beak and eyes like black beads as it moved closer. Lillian must have been carrying the ball toward it, because it suddenly started and then spread red arms and flew.
Absolute silence reigned in the control room as they watched her track the strange animals as they flew around the bushes, clearly agitated by her presence. They landed on stick like legs and hopped about in a fashion that communicated fury at her interference. To Greg they looked a bit like chickens with red feathers instead of tan, brown or black ones. But they flew.
The historian broke the silen
ce as they watched Lillian, carrying her ball around and showing them the world, “So those did exist. Well, who would’ve thought?”
Part Four
Paradise or Something Like It
The Cat
Excerpt from the book “Silo Ecology for Students”
Cats play a vital role inside the silo. Aside from becoming beloved pets in the pet lottery, many perform pest control in the farms and storage facilities. Mice have always been, and will likely always be, a problem that cats help us with.
The number of cats allowed in the silo is strictly controlled through careful breeding but that number is never static. It waxes and wanes with our need. Some argue that there should be no cats—or dogs for that matter—kept as pets. As carnivores, they consume more meat than allotted for an adult human. Though their diet consists primarily of offal and organs, stewed with vegetables, it isn’t an insignificant amount.
Many things about cats are interesting but there is an added point of interest inside the Legacy Book. Inside the single volume we retain, ‘Sh-St’, there are not one, but two, entries related to the cat. Two kinds of large cats are described, one called the Siberian Tiger and the other Snow Leopard. They are both large cats, possibly as large as a human, and were considered top predators in the world outside before it was destroyed. Perhaps even more amazing than the thought of such a cat is the list of related entries that we have no books for. Exotic names like Lion, Cheetah, Jaguar and Cougar, and many more are listed. We can only wonder what they might have been like and try to accept the magnitude of so much loss outside.