Page 4 (1/2)

He adjusted his handkerchief and thought on this in the di as he didn’t take another’s job

"Ready yourself," carip on his knife and concentrated on the task at hand His eyes strained to see in the wan light The steady breathing of his neighbors was occasionally heard They would be squeezing their own knives or their ery fists

The knives ca as the inverted hearts that grew on practiced calves A porter’s knife for slicing open delivered goods, for cutting fruit to eat on the cli peace as its owner strayed froers two at a time It was said that a porter’s knife shadowed for a thousand jobs, that its caster was its owner, its holea shadow With the flick of a wrist, it would quiet the neck of that singing bird It would part a rope that groaned under a darkened and illicit strain

Up the stairwell two full turns, on a diued in soft voices as they handled the other end of that rope, as they perforht save a hundred chits or two Beyond the rail across from Mission, a black shape slid past The rope was invisible in the inky void He would have to lean out and grope for the chirping bird’s neck He felt a ring of heat by his collar, and the hilt of his blade felt unsure in his sweating palan whispered, and Mission felt his old caster’s hand on his shoulder, holding hi him like a shadow even now Mission cleared histhe strain of a heavy generator, and a dense patch of gray drifted through the black The men above shouted in whispers as they handled the load, as they did in green the work of ray inched past, Mission thought of the night’s danger and marveled at the fear in his heart He possessed a sudden care for a life he had once labored to end, a life that never should’ve been He thought of his mother and wondered what she was like, beyond her disobedience That was all he knew of her He knew the iht And instead of reporting the nancy--she had hid him in loose clothes until it was past the time the Pact allowed a child to be treated as a cyst

"Ready yourself," Morgan hissed

The gray ht Mission clutched his knife and thought of how he should’ve been cut out of her and discarded But past a certain date, and one life was traded for another Such was the Pact Born behind bars, Mission had been allowed free while his ht, sheflesh By the an commanded, and Mission startled Soft and orn boots squeaked on the stairs above, the sounds ofinto action Mission concentrated on his part He pressed hiainst the curved rail and reached out into the space beyond His palreat depths below hiames with paint bombs and paper parachutes as he pressed his blade to the taut line

There was a pop like sinew snapping, the first of the braids parting with just a touch of his sharp blade

Mission had but abelow, the acco two levels down Another pop, and the wounded bird sang at a different pitch Men were stored to join the motions, the rope parted the rest of the way and let out a twangy cry Mission thought he heard the heavy generator whistle as it picked up speed There was a ferocious crash ain alar fro had broken out above

With one hand on the rail and another strangling his knife, Mission took the stairs three at a tiht lesson on breaking the Pact, on doing another’s job

Grunts and groans and slapping thuds spilled fro, and Mission threw hi not where wars coled briefly in forbidden rope, all those shorter strands twisted and woven into sole a thousand souls

Silo 1

A second shift

"The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven"

- John Milton

•6•

The wheelchair squeaked as its wheels went ‘round and ‘round With each revolution there was a sharp peal of complaint followed by a circuit of deathly silence Donald lost hian to anticipate each chirp, like a lonely bird crying for its mate Chirp and silence Chirp and silence As he was pushed along, his breath puffed out into the air, the roo the same deep chill as his bones

There were rows and rows of pods stretched out to either side Nae on tiny screens Made-up naned to sever the past from the now Donald watched them slide by as they pushed him toward the exit His head felt heavy, his neck inadequate for propping up his skull, the weight of re the wisps of dreams that coiled away and vanished like vaporous sh the door and into the hallway, and Donald seehost, like a rave He was steered into a familiar room with a familiar table Boots kicked here--he re the boots still, bones like a bird’s struggling beneath his grip, and he was the ene He could see thes while ice burned in his veins

The wheelchair shimmied as they re it’d been, how long he’d been asleep

"Seventy years," someone said He did the math A hundred and twenty since orientation No wonder the wheelchair felt unsteady--it was older than he was Its screws had worked loose over the long decades that Donald had been asleep

They helped him stand His feet were still nules A noisy curtain was drawn They asked hilorious relief The sample was the color of charcoal, dead h to warh he knew the cold was in his flesh, not in the roo before his head is clear?" someone asked

"A day," the doctor said "Tomorrow at the earliest"

They had him sit while they took his blood A man in white coveralls with hair just as stark stood in the doorway, frowning "Save your strength," the man said He nodded to the doctor to continue his work and disappeared before Donald could place hi memory He felt dizzy and watched as his blood, blue from the cold, was taken from him

They rode a familiar elevator The men around hi fog Donald felt as though he had been drugged, but he re their pills He reached for his botto, and felt for an ulcer, that little pocket where he kept his pills unsed

But the ulcer wasn’t there It would’ve healed in his sleep decades ago The lift dinged, the doors parted, and Donald felt more of that dreamtime fade

They pushed hiht of the wheels, black arcs where rubber had once , the tiles, all bearing centuries of wear Like the wheelchair, these halls never slept Yesterday, they were al eyeblink of decrepitude, a sudden cru halls just like these He rees The truth was there all along The truth was in the design, staring back at him, too insane to be taken seriously

The wheelchair slowed