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　　• Silo 18 •

　　A group of kids thundered down the staircase as Lukas was escorted to his death. One of themsquealed in delighted horror as if being chased. They spiraled closer, coming into view, and Lukasand Peter had to squeeze to one side to let them pass.

　　Peter played the sheriff role and yelled at the kids to slow down, to be careful. They giggled¹ andcontinued their mad descent. School was out for the day; no more listening to adults.

　　While Lukas was pressed against the outer railing, he took a moment to consider the temptation.

　　Freedom was just a jump away. A death of his own choosing, one he had considered in the past whenmoods turned dark.

　　Peter pulled him along, hand on his elbow, before Lukas could act. He was left admiring thatgraceful bar of steel, watching the way it curved and curved, always spinning the same amount, neverending. He pictured it corkscrewing through the earth, could sense its vibrations² like some cosmicstring, like a single strand³ of DNA⁴ at the silo’s core with all of life clinging to it.

　　Thoughts like these swirled⁵ as they gained another level on his death. He watched the welds goby, some of them neater than others. A few were puckered⁶ up like scars; several had been polished sosmoothly he almost missed them. Each was a signature by its creator: a work of pride here, a rushedjob at the end of a long day there, a shadow learning for the first time, a seasoned pro⁷ with decades ofpractice making it look all too easy.

　　He brushed his shackled⁸ hands over the rough paint, the bumps and wrinkles, the missing chipsthat revealed centuries of layers, of colors that changed with the times or with the supply of dyes orcost of paint. The layers reminded him of the wooden desk he’d stared down at for almost a month.

　　Each little groove⁹ marked the passage of time, just as each name scratched into its surface marked aman’s mad desire to have more of it, to not let that time whisk his poor soul away.

　　For a long while they marched in silence, a porter passing with a bulky load, a young couplelooking guilty. Exiting the server vault¹⁰ had not been the stroll to freedom Lukas had longed for thepast weeks. It had been an ambush¹¹, a march of shame, faces in doorways¹², faces on landings, faces onthe stairway. Blank, unblinking faces. Faces of friends wondering if he was their enemy.

　　And maybe he was.

　　They would say he had broken down and uttered the fateful taboo¹³, but Lukas now knew whypeople were put out. He was the virus. If he sneezed the wrong words, it would kill everyone heknew. This was the path Juliette had walked, and for the same absence of reason. He believed her,always had, always knew she’d done nothing wrong, but now he really understood. She was like himin so many ways. Except he would not survive; he knew that. Bernard had told him so.

　　They were ten levels up from IT when Peter’s radio buzzed with chatter¹⁴. He took his hand offLukas’s elbow to turn up the volume, see if it was for him.

　　“This is Juliette. Who is this?”

　　That voice.

　　Lukas’s heart leapt up a little before plummeting¹⁵ a very long way. He fixed¹⁶ his gaze on the railingand listened.

　　Bernard responded, asked for silence. Peter reached for his radio, turned it down but not off. Thevoices climbed with them, back and forth¹⁷. Each step and each word ground down on Lukas, chippedaway at him. He studied the railing and again considered true freedom.

　　A grab and a short leap up; a long flight.

　　He could feel himself going through the motions, bending his knees, throwing his feet over.

　　The voices in the radio argued. They said forbidden things. They were sloppy¹⁸ with secrets,thinking other ears couldn’t hear.

　　Lukas watched his death play out over and over. His fate awaited him over that rail. The visualwas so powerful, it wrecked¹⁹ his climbing pace, it affected²⁰ his legs.

　　He slowed, Peter slowing with him. Each of them began to falter²¹, to waver in the conviction oftheir climb as they listened to Juliette and Bernard argue. The strength in Lukas drained away, and hedecided not to jump.

　　Both men were having second thoughts.

 

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