40

　　For you and I are past our dancing days.

　　Knox saw the uproar¹ in Mechanical as just another emergency to overcome. Like the time thebasement subwall had sprung a leak, or when the oil rig had hit that pocket of methane² and they hadto evacuate³ eight levels until the air handlers made it safe to return. Against the inevitable⁴ flow ofcommotion, what he needed to do was push for order. To assign tasks. He had to break a hugeundertaking down to discrete⁵ bits and make sure they fell to the right hands. Only this time, he andhis people wouldn’t be setting out to repair something. There were things the good people ofMechanical meant to break.

　　“Supply is the key,” he told his foremen, pointing to the large-scale blueprint⁶ hanging on the wall.

　　He traced the stairwell up the thirty flights to Supply’s main manufacturing floor. “Our greatestadvantage is that IT doesn’t know we’re coming.” He turned to his shift leaders. “Shirly, Marck, andCourtnee, you’ll come with me. We’ll load up with supplies and take your shadows with us. Walker,you can wire ahead to let ’em know we’re coming. Be careful, though. Assume IT has ears. Say wehave a load of your repairs to deliver.”

　　He turned to Jenkins, who had shadowed under Knox for six years before he grew his own beardand moved to third shift. The assumption everywhere was that Knox’s job was his in waiting. “Jenks,I want you to take over down here. There are no days off for a while. Keep the place running, but getready for the worst. I want as much food stockpiled as possible. And water. Make sure the cistern⁷ istopped up. Divert from the hydroponics feed if you have to, but be discreet⁸. Think of an excuse, likea leak or something, in case they notice. Meanwhile, have someone make the rounds and check everylock and hinge, just in case the fighting comes to us. And stockpile whatever weapons you can makeup⁹. Pipes, hammers, whatever.”

　　Some eyebrows¹⁰ were lifted at this, but Jenkins nodded at the list as if it all made sense and wasdoable. Knox turned to his foremen. “What? You know where this is heading, right?”

　　“But what’s the larger picture?” Courtnee asked, glancing at the tall blueprint of their buriedhome. “Storm IT, and then what? Take over running this place?”

　　“We already run this place,” Knox growled¹¹. He slapped his hand across the floors of themidthirties. “We just do it in the dark. Like these levels here are dark to us. But now I mean to shinea light in their rat hole and scare them out, see what else they’re hiding.”

　　“You understand what they’ve been doing, right?” Marck turned to Courtnee. “They’ve beensending people out to die. On purpose. Not because it had to happen, but because they wanted it to!”

　　Courtnee bit her lip and didn’t say anything, just stared at the blueprint.

　　“We need to get going,” Knox said. “Walker, get that wire out. Let’s load up. And think ofsomething pleasant to chat about while we’re on the move. No grumbling¹² about this where someporter can hear and make a chit or two ratting us out.”

　　They nodded. Knox slapped Jenkins on the back and dipped his chin at the younger man. “I’llsend word when we need everyone. Keep the bare bones you think you’ve gotta have down here andsend the rest. Timing¹³ is everything, okay?”

　　“I know what to do,” Jenkins said. He wasn’t trying to be uppity, just reassuring¹⁴ his elder.

　　“All right,” Knox said. “Then let’s get to it.”

　　????

　　They made it up ten flights with little complaint, but Knox could begin to feel the burn in his legsfrom the heavy load. He had a canvas sack stuffed full of welding smocks on his wide shoulders, plusa bundle of helmets. A rope had been strung through their chin straps¹⁵, and they clattered¹⁶ down hiswide back. Marck struggled with his load of pipe stock as they kept trying to slide against oneanother and slip out of his arms. The shadows brought up the rear, behind the women, with heavysacks of blasting powder tied together so they hung around their necks. Professional porters withsimilarly full loads breezed past them in both directions, their glances signaling a mix of curiosityand competitive anger. When one porter—a woman Knox recognized from deliveries to the downdeep—stopped and offered to help, he gruffly sent her on her way. She hurried up the steps, lookingback over her shoulder before spiraling out of view, and Knox regretted taking his exhaustion¹⁷ out onher.

　　“Keep it up,” he told the others. Even with the small group, they were making a spectacle. And itwas growing ever more tiresome¹⁸ to hold their tongues as news of Juliette’s amazing disappearancegyred all around them. At almost every landing, a group of people, often younger people, stoodaround and gossiped about what it all meant. The taboo¹⁹ had moved from thought to whisper.

　　Forbidden notions were birthed on tongues and swam through the air. Knox ignored the pain in hisback and lumbered²⁰ up and up, each step driving them closer to Supply, feeling more and more likethey needed to get there in a hurry.

　　As they left the one—thirties, the grumblings were fully²¹ in the air. They were nearing the upperhalf of the down deep, where people who worked, shopped, and ate in the mids mingled²² with thosewho would rather they didn’t. Deputy Hank was on the stairwell of one-twenty-eight, trying tomediate between two arguing crowds. Knox squeezed past, hoping the officer wouldn’t turn and seehis heavily loaded train and ask them what they were doing up this far. As he ascended²³ past theruckus, Knox glanced back to watch the shadows slink past, hugging the inner rail. Deputy Hank wasstill asking a woman to please calm down as the landing sank out of sight.

　　They passed the dirt farm on one-twenty-six, and Knox figured this to be a key asset. The thirtiesof IT were a long hike up, but if they had to fall back, they would need to hold at Supply. Betweentheir manufacturing, the food on this level, and the machinery²⁴ of Mechanical, they might be self-sufficient. He could think of a few weak links, but many more for IT. They could always shut offtheir power or stop treating their water—but he really hoped, as they approached Supply on wearylegs, that it wouldn’t come to any of that.

　　They were greeted on the landing of one-ten by frowns. McLain, the elder woman and head ofSupply, stood with her arms crossed over her yellow overalls²⁵, her stance screaming unwelcome.

　　“Hello, Jove.” Knox fixed²⁶ her with a wide smile.

　　“Don’t Jove me,” McLain said. “What’s this nonsense you’re after?”

　　Knox glanced up and down the stairwell, shrugged²⁷ his heavy load higher up his shoulder. “Mindif we step in and talk about it?”

　　“I don’t want any trouble here,” she said, her eyes blazing beneath her lowered brow.

　　“Let’s go inside,” Knox said. “We haven’t stopped once on the way up. Unless you want uscollapsing out here.”

　　McLain seemed to consider this. Her arms loosened across her chest. She turned to three of herworkers, who formed an imposing²⁸ wall behind her, and nodded. While they pulled open the gleamingdoors of Supply, she turned and grabbed Knox’s arm. “Don’t get comfortable,” she told him.

　　Inside the front room of Supply, Knox found a small army of men and women in their yellowoveralls, waiting. Most of them stood behind the low, long counter where the people of the silonormally waited for whatever parts they needed, whether newly fabricated or recently repaired. Theparallel and deep aisles²⁹ of shelves beyond ran into the gloomy distance, boxes and bins³⁰ bulging³¹ off ofthem. The room was noticeably quiet. Usually, the mechanical thrumming and clanking sounds offabrication could be heard worming their way through the space, or one might hear workers chattingunseen back in the stacks while they sorted newly fashioned bolts and nuts into hungry bins.

　　Now it was just silence and distrustful glares. Knox stood with his people, their sacks and loadsslumping exhaustedly³² to the floor, sweat on their brows, while the men and women of Supplywatched, unmoving.

　　He had expected a more amicable³⁴ welcome. Mechanical and Supply had a long history together.

　　They jointly³⁵ ran the small mine beneath the lowest levels of Mechanical that supplemented the silo’sstockpile of ores.

　　But now, as McLain followed her boys back inside, she graced Knox with a look of scorn hehadn’t seen since his mother passed away.

　　“What in the hell is the meaning of this?” she hissed³⁶ at Knox.

　　He was taken aback by the language, especially in front of his people. He thought of himself andMcLain as equals, but now he was being snapped at as if by one of Supply’s dogs. Made to feel smalland worthless.

　　McLain’s gaze ranged down the exhausted³³ line of mechanics and their shadows before turningback to him.

　　“Before we discuss how we’re cleaning up this problem, I want to hear how you’re handling youremployees, whoever was responsible.” Her eyes bored through him. “I am correct in assuming youhad nothing to do with this, right? That you’ve come to apologize and shower me with bribes³⁷?”

　　Shirly started to say something, but Knox waved her off. There were a lot of people in the roomjust waiting for this to go undiplomatically.

　　“Yes, I do apologize,” Knox said, grinding his teeth together and bowing his head. “And no, I justlearned of this earlier today. After I found out about the cleaning, in fact.”

　　“So it was all your electrician,” McLain said, her thin arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Oneman.”

　　“That’s right. But—”

　　“I’ve meted³⁸ out punishment to those involved here, let me tell you. And I suppose you’ll have todo more than banish³⁹ that old fart to his room.”

　　There was laughter behind the counter. Knox put a hand on Shirly’s shoulder to keep her in place.

　　He looked past McLain to the men and women arranged behind her.

　　“They came and took one of our workers,” he said. His chest may have been heavy, but his voicestill boomed. “You know how it happens. When they want a body for cleaning, they take it.” Hethumped his chest. “And I let them. I stood there because I trust this system. I fear it, just as any ofyou.”

　　“Well—” McLain began, but Knox cut her short, continuing in that voice that routinely gave calmcommands over the racket of machines run amok.

　　“One of my people was taken, and it was the oldest of us, the wisest of us, who intervened on herbehalf. It was the weakest and most scared who braved his neck. And whoever of you he turned to forhelp, and who gave it, I owe you my life.” Knox blinked away the blur⁴⁰ and continued. “You gave hermore than a chance to walk over that hill, to die in peace and out of sight. You gave me the courageto open my eyes. To see this veil of lies we live behind—”

　　“That’s quite enough,” McLain barked. “Someone could be sent to cleaning for even listening tosuch nonsense, to such drivel.”

　　“It’s not nonsense,” Marck cried down the line. “Juliette is dead because of—”

　　“She’s dead because she broke these very laws!” McLain snapped, her voice high and shrill⁴¹. “Andnow you march up here to break even more? On my level?”

　　“We aim to break heads!” Shirly said.

　　“Leave it!” Knox told them both. He saw the anger in McLain’s eyes, but he also saw somethingelse: the sporadic⁴² nods and raised brows among the rank and file behind her.

　　A porter entered the room with empty sacks in each hand and looked around at the tense silence.

　　One of the large Supply workers by the door ushered⁴³ him back onto the landing with apologies,telling him to return later. Knox composed his words carefully during the interruption.

　　“No person has ever been sent to cleaning for listening, however great the taboo.” He allowed thatto sink in. He glared at McLain as she moved to interrupt, but she seemed to decide against it. “So letme be sent to cleaning by any of you for what I’m about to say. I will welcome it if these facts do notmove you to instead push forward with me and my men. For this is what Walker and a few of youbrave souls have shown us this morning. We have cause for more hope than they dare give us.

　　There’s more at our disposal to broaden our horizons than they’ll allow. We have been raised on apack of lies, made to fear by the sight of our kinsmen⁴⁴ rotting on the hills, but now one of us hascrossed over that! They have seen new horizons! We have been given seals and washers and told thatthey should suffice, but what are they?”

　　He stared down the men and women behind the counter. McLain’s arms seemed to loosen acrossher chest.

　　“Designed to fail, that’s what! Fake. And who knows what other lies there are. What if we’d takenany cleaner back and done our best by them? Cleaned and disinfected them? Tried whatever wecould? Would they survive? We can no longer trust IT to tell us they wouldn’t!”

　　Knox saw chins rise and fall. He knew his own people were ready to storm the room if need be;they were as amped up and driven mad by all this as he was.

　　“We are not here to cause trouble,” he said, “we are here to bring order! The uprising has alreadyhappened.” He turned to McLain. “Don’t you see? We’ve been living the uprising. Our parents werethe children of it, and now we feed our own children to the same machine. This will not be the startof something new, but the end of something old. And if Supply is with us, we stand a chance. If not,then may our bodies haunt your view of the outside, which I now see as far less rotten than thisblasted silo!”

　　Knox bellowed⁴⁵ this last in open defiance⁴⁶ of all taboo. He threw it out and savored⁴⁷ the taste of it,the admission that anything beyond those curved walls might be better than what was inside them.

　　The whisper that had killed so many became a throaty roar shouted from his broad chest.

　　And it felt good.

　　McLain cringed. She took a step away, something like fear in her eyes. She turned her back onKnox and made to return to her people, and he knew he had failed. There had been a chance,however slim, in this silent and still crowd to inspire action, but the moment had slipped him by or hehad scared it off.

　　And then McLain did something. Knox could see the tendons in her slender neck bulge⁴⁸. She liftedher chin to her people, her white hair in its tight knot high on her head, and she said, quietly, “Whatsay you, Supply?”

　　It was a question, not a command. Knox would later wonder if it had been asked in sadness; hewould wonder if she had taken poor stock of her people, who had listened patiently during hismadness. He would also wonder if she was just curious, or if she was challenging them to cast himand his mechanics out.

　　But now he wondered, tears streaming down his face, thoughts of Juliette swelling⁴⁹ inside hisheart, if he could even hear his handful of compatriots shouting, so drowned out were they by theangry war cries of the good men and women of Supply.

 

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