10

　　It was lunchtime, but neither of them was powerfully hungry. Jahns nibbled on a cornbar while shewalked, priding herself on “eating on the climb” like a porter. They continued to pass thesetradesmen, and Jahns’s esteem of their profession grew and grew. She had a strange pang of guiltfrom heading down under such a light load while these men and women trudged up carrying somuch. And they moved so fast. She and Marnes pressed themselves against the rail as a downwardporter apologetically stomped past. His shadow, a girl of fifteen or sixteen, was right behind him,loaded down with what looked to be sacks of garbage for the recycling center. Jahns watched theyoung girl spiral out of sight, her sinewy and smooth legs hanging miles out of her shorts, andsuddenly felt very old and very tired.

　　The two of them fell into a rhythmic pace, the reach of each foot hovering over the next tread, asort of collapsing of the bones, a resignation to gravity, falling to that foot, sliding the hand,extending the walking stick forward, repeat. Doubt crept into Jahns around the thirtieth floor. Whathad seemed a fine adventure at sunrise now seemed a mighty undertaking. Each step was performedreluctantly, with the knowledge of how grueling it would be to win that elevation back.

　　They passed the upper water treatment plant on thirty-two, and Jahns realized she was seeingportions of the silo that were practically new to her. It had been a lifetime ago that she’d been thisdeep, a shameful thing to admit. And in that time, changes had been made. Construction and repairswere ongoing. Walls were a different color than she remembered. But then, it was hard to trust one’smemory.

　　The traffic on the stairs lightened as they neared the IT floors. Here were the most sparselypopulated levels of the silo, where less than two dozen men and women—but mostly men—operatedwithin their own little kingdom. The silo servers took up almost an entire floor, the machines slowlyreloading with recent history, having been wiped completely during the uprising. Access to them wasnow severely restricted, and as Jahns passed the landing on the thirty-third, she swore she could hearthe mighty thrumming of all the electricity they consumed. Whatever the silo had been, or had beenoriginally designed for, she knew without asking or being told that these strange machines were someorgan of primacy. Their power draw was a constant source of contention during budget meetings. Butthe necessity of the cleaning, the fear of even talking about the outside and all the dangerous taboosthat went with it, gave IT incredible leeway. They housed the labs that made the suits, each onetailored to the person waiting in the holding cell, and this alone set them apart from all else.

　　No, Jahns told herself, it wasn’t simply the taboo of the cleaning, the fear of the outside. It was thehope. There was this unspoken, deadly hope in every member of the silo. A ridiculous, fantasticalhope. That maybe not for them, but perhaps for their children, or their children’s children, life on theoutside would be possible once again, and that it would be the work of IT and the bulky suits thatemerged from their labs that would make it all possible.

　　Jahns felt a shiver even to think it. Living outside. The childhood conditioning was that strong.

　　Maybe God would hear her thoughts and rat her out. She imagined herself in a cleaning suit, a far toocommon thought, placing herself into the flexible coffin to which she had condemned so many.

　　On the thirty-fourth, she slipped off onto the landing. Marnes joined her, his canteen in hand.

　　Jahns realized she’d been drinking out of his all day while hers had stayed strapped to her back.

　　There was something childlike and romantic about this, but also something practical. It was moredifficult to reach one’s own water than it was to grab that of the other from their pack.

　　“You need a break?” He passed the canteen, which had two swallows left in it. Jahns took one ofthem.

　　“This is our next stop,” she said.

　　Marnes looked up at the faded number stenciled over the doorway. He had to know what floorthey were on, but it was as if he needed to double-check.

　　Jahns returned his canteen. “In the past, I’ve always wired them to get the okay on mynominations. It was something Mayor Humphries did before me, and Mayor Jeffers before him.” Sheshrugged. “Way of the world.”

　　“I didn’t know they had to approve.” He took the last swallow and patted Jahns on the back,twirled his finger for her to turn around.

　　“Well, they’ve never rejected any of my nominations.” Jahns felt her canteen tugged out of herpouch, Marnes’s canteen shoved in its place. Her pack felt a smidgen lighter. She realized Marneswanted to carry her water and share it until it too was empty. “I think the unwritten rule is there justso we’ll carefully consider every judge and lawman, knowing there’s some informal oversight.”

　　“So this time you’re doing it in person.”

　　She turned back around to face her deputy. “I figured we were passing this way …” She pausedwhile a young couple hurried up the stairs behind Marnes, holding hands and taking the treads two ata time. “And that it might feel even more conspicuous not to stop and check in.”

　　“Check in,” Marnes said. Jahns half expected him to spit over the railing; the tone seemed torequire such punctuation. She suddenly felt another of her weaknesses exposed.

　　“Think of it as a goodwill mission,” she said, turning toward the door.

　　“I’m gonna think of it as a fact-finding raid,” Marnes muttered, following her.

　　????

　　Jahns could tell that, unlike at the nursery, they would not be buzzed through and sent back intothe mysterious depths of IT. While they waited to be seen, she watched as even a member of the staff,identifiable from their silver overalls, was patted down and searched just to leave the wing and exittoward the stairs. A man with a wand—a member of IT’s own internal security detail—seemed tohave the job of checking everyone who passed through the metal gates. The receptionist on theoutside of the gates was deferent enough, however, and seemed pleased to have the mayor for a visit.

　　She expressed her condolences for the recent cleaning, an odd thing to say but something Jahnswished she heard more often. They were shown to a small conference room attached to the mainfoyer, a place, she supposed, for meeting with various departments without putting them through thehassle of passing through security.

　　“Look at all this space,” Marnes whispered once they were alone in the room together. “Did yousee the size of that entrance hall?”

　　Jahns nodded. She looked around the ceiling and walls for some peephole, something to confirmthe creepy sensation that she was being watched. She set her bag and walking stick down andcollapsed wearily into one of the plush chairs. When it moved, she realized the thing was on wheels.

　　Nicely oiled wheels.

　　“Always wanted to check this place out,” Marnes said. He peered through the glass window thatlooked back into the wide foyer. “Every time I’ve passed this place—and it’s only been a dozen timesor so—I’ve been curious to see what’s inside.”

　　Jahns nearly asked him to stop talking but worried that it would hurt his feelings.

　　“Boy, he’s coming in a hurry. Must be because of you.”

　　Jahns turned and looked out the window to see Bernard Holland heading their way. Hedisappeared from view as he approached the door, the handle flicked down, and the small man whosejob it was to keep IT running smoothly strode into the room.

　　“Mayor.”

　　Bernard was all teeth, the front ones crooked. He had a wispy mustache that hung down in a weakattempt to hide this flaw. Short, portly, and with a pair of glasses perched on his small nose, helooked every bit the technical expert. Above all, to Jahns at least, he looked smart.

　　He reached for Jahns’s hand as she rose from the chair, the blasted thing nearly scooting out fromunderneath her as she pressed down on the armrests.

　　“Careful,” Bernard said, grabbing her elbow to steady her. “Deputy.” He nodded toward Marneswhile Jahns regained her balance. “It’s an honor to have you down. I know you don’t take these tripsoften.”

　　“Thanks for seeing us on short notice,” Jahns said.

　　“Of course. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He swept his hand over the lacqueredconference table. It was nicer than the one in the mayor’s office, though Jahns assuaged herself byassuming it was shiny from being less frequently employed. She sat in the chair warily, then reachedinto her bag and produced the set of files.

　　“Straight to business, as always,” Bernard said, sitting beside her. He pushed his small roundspectacles up his nose and glided forward on the chair until his plump belly met the desk. “Alwaysappreciated that about you. We are, as you can imagine with yesterday’s unfortunate events, as busyas ever. Lots of data to go through.”

　　“How’s that going?” Jahns asked while she arranged the material in front of her.

　　“Some positives and negatives, as always. Readouts from some of the seal sensors showedimprovement. Atmospheric levels of eight of the known toxins have declined, though not by much.

　　Two have risen. Most have remained unchanged.” He waved his hand. “It’s a lot of boring technicalstuff, but it’ll all be in my report. I should have it ported up before you get back to your office.”

　　“That’ll be fine,” Jahns said. She wanted to say something else, to acknowledge his department’shard work, to let him know that another cleaning had been successful, God knew why. But it wasHolston out there, the closest thing she’d ever had to a shadow, the only man she’d ever seen runningfor her office when she was dead and feeding the roots of the fruit trees. It was too soon to mention it,much less applaud it.

　　“I normally wire this sort of thing to you,” she said, “but since we were passing by, and you won’tbe up for the next committee meeting for, what, another three months … ?”

　　“The years go fast,” Bernard said.

　　“I just figured we could informally agree to this now, so I could offer our best candidate the job.”

　　She glanced up at Marnes. “Once she accepts, we can finish the paperwork on our way back up, ifyou don’t mind.” She slid the folder toward Bernard and was surprised when he produced one of hisown, rather than accept hers.

　　“Well, let’s go over this,” Bernard said. He opened his folder, licked his thumb, and flippedthrough a few pieces of high- quality paper. “We were wired about your visit, but your list ofcandidates didn’t hit my desk until this morning. Otherwise, I would have tried to save you the tripdown and back up.” He pulled out a piece of paper devoid of creases. It didn’t even look bleached.

　　Jahns wondered where IT got such things while her office was held together with cornflour paste.

　　“I’m thinking, of the three names listed here, that Billings is our man.”

　　“We may consider him next—” Deputy Marnes started to say.

　　“I think we should consider him now.” He slid the paper toward Jahns. It was an acceptancecontract. There were signatures at the bottom. One line was left blank, the mayor’s name neatlyprinted underneath.

　　She had to catch her breath.

　　“You’ve already contacted Peter Billings about this?”

　　“He accepted. The judge’s robe was going to be a little stifling for him, being so young and full ofenergy. I thought he was a fine choice for that role, but I think he’s an even better one now for the jobof sheriff.”

　　Jahns remembered Peter’s judicial nomination process. It had been one of the times she’d gonealong with Bernard’s suggestion, seeing it as a trade for a future pick of her own. She studied thesignature, Peter’s hand familiar from his various notes sent up on behalf of Judge Wilson, underwhom he currently shadowed. She imagined one of the porters who had flown past them on the stepsthat day, apologizing as they went, rushing this very piece of paper down.

　　“I’m afraid Peter is currently third on our list,” Mayor Jahns finally said. Her voice suddenly felttired. It sounded frail and weak in the cavernous and wasteful space of that underused and outsizedconference room. She looked up at Marnes, who was glaring at the contract, his jaw clenching andunclenching.

　　“Well, I think we both know Murphy’s name is on this list for flattery. He’s too old for the job—”

　　“Younger than me,” Marnes interrupted. “I hold up just fine.”

　　Bernard tilted his head. “Yes, well, your first choice simply won’t do, I’m afraid.”

　　“And why is that?” Jahns asked.

　　“I’m not sure how … thorough your background check has been, but we’ve had enough problemswith this candidate that I recognized her name. Even though she’s from Maintenance.”

　　Bernard said this last word like it was full of nails and might gut him to spit it out.

　　“What kinda problems?” Marnes demanded.

　　Jahns shot the deputy a look of warning.

　　“Nothing we would have wanted to report, mind you.” Bernard turned to Marnes. There wasvenom in the small man’s eyes, a raw hatred for the deputy, or perhaps for the star on his chest.

　　“Nothing worth involving the law. But there have been some … creative requisitions from her office,items rerouted from our use, improper claims of priority and the like.” Bernard took a deep breathand folded his hands together on top of the folder in front of him. “I wouldn’t go as far as calling itstealing, per se, but we have filed complaints with Deagan Knox as head of Mechanical to informhim of these … irregularities.”

　　“That’s it?” Marnes growled. “Requisitions?”

　　Bernard frowned. He spread his hands on the folder. “That’s it? Have you been listening? Thewoman has practically stolen goods, has had items rerouted from my department. It’s not clear ifthese are even for silo use. They could be for personal gain. God knows, the woman uses more thanher allowance of electricity. Maybe she trades for chits—”

　　“Is this a formal accusation?” Marnes asked. He made a show of pulling his pad from his pocketand clicking his mechanical pen.

　　“Ah, no. As I said, we would not want to trouble your office. But, as you can see, this is not thesort of person to enter a career in high law. It’s what I expect of a mechanic, to be honest, which iswhere, I’m afraid, this candidate should stay.” He patted the folder as if putting the issue to rest.

　　“That’s your suggestion,” Mayor Jahns said.

　　“Why, yes. And I think since we have such a fine candidate ready and willing to serve and alreadyliving in the up top—”

　　“I’ll take your suggestion into account.” Jahns took the crisp contract from the table anddeliberately folded it in half, pinching the crease with her fingernails as she slid them down its length.

　　She stuck the piece of paper in one of her folders while Bernard watched, horrified.

　　“And since you have no formal complaints about our first candidate, I will take this as tacitapproval to speak with her about the job.” Jahns stood and grabbed her bag. She slid the folders intothe outside pouch and secured the flap, then grabbed her walking stick from where it leaned againstthe conference table. “Thank you for seeing us.”

　　“Yes, but—” Bernard scooted away from the table and hurried after her as Jahns made for thedoor. Marnes got up and followed, smiling.

　　“What should I tell Peter? He’s of the assumption that he starts anytime!”

　　“You should never have told him anything,” Jahns said. She stopped in the foyer and glared atBernard. “I gave you my list in confidence. You betrayed that. Now, I appreciate all you do for thesilo. You and I have a long and peaceable history working together, overseeing what might be themost prosperous age our people have known—”

　　“Which is why—” Bernard began.

　　“Which is why I’m forgiving this trespass,” Mayor Jahns said. “This is my job. My people. Theyelected me to make these kinds of decisions. So my deputy and I will be on our way. We will giveour top choice a fair interview. And I will be sure to stop by on my way up in case there is anythingto sign.”

　　Bernard spread his hands in defeat. “Very well,” he said. “I apologize. I only hoped to expeditethe process. Now, please, rest a little, you are our guests. Let me get you some food, maybe somefruit?”

　　“We’ll be on our way,” Jahns said.

　　“Fine.” He nodded. “But at least some water? Top up your canteens?”

　　Jahns remembered one of them was already empty, and they had a few more flights to go.

　　“That would be a kind gesture,” she said. She signaled to Marnes, who turned so she could grabhis canteen from his pack. Then she turned her back so he could grab hers as well. Bernard waved toone of his workers to come fetch them and fill them up, but the entire time he kept his eyes on thiscurious and intimate exchange.