Silo 42 deception, p.1
Silo 42: Deception, page 1
Silo 42: Deception
Copyright © 2023 Zev Paiss
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher.
Acknowledgments
Ideeply acknowledge the encouragement of the World of Wool creator Hugh Howey as I crafted this protopian fan fiction novella. I am touched by Hugh’s openness to allow fellow writers to expand his world of the Silos and let us provide new possibilities of life in a mile deep underground structure.
Silo 42: Deception is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and the product of this author’s overactive imagination.
Spoiler Alert: For those readers who are new to the Wool Universe, I offer a heads up. This story assumes the reader is already familiar with the world of Wool. A critical fact: more than one Silo exists in this world, and a central Silo – Silo 1 -- makes life and death decisions over the other Silos to help maintain control over their operations and prevent dissent. If you have not read Wool, the first book on the trilogy, you may want to put this story aside until you have read the original series. Otherwise, may you enjoy Silo 42: Deception.
Table of contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Thank You
Chapter 1
Silo 42, Level 34, Server Room
The most challenging part of his job as the Head of IT has always been the deception. Ahotay remembered his initial resistance to accept the schizophrenic reality when his father first disclosed it to him at the age of 15. As a Shadow training under his father, it was clear that continuing the deception would eventually be his responsibility. But he had no idea what would be required to hide the truth. Looking back, it was obvious there was nothing that could have properly prepared him for the role other than trial by fire.
Ahotay remembered his father sharing with him about his introduction to the role of Head of IT when he was a Shadow under his father. Keeping a lie of this magnitude going for generations, was only part of the challenge. The task of offering guidance to the Silo population in how best to follow the ancestral goals to follow the Seventh Generation Philosophy was just as demanding.
Ahotay’s grandfather who was 100 percent Iroquois, and the very first Head of IT when the Silo was new, had taught him at an early age that telling the truth and acting with future generations in mind was always the best course of action. However, it was important to remember that selecting which truths to share was much more an art than a science. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that this was not the way humans were supposed to live – enclosed in a massive underground building -- rather than on the surface with access to sunshine and fresh air. Yet their Silo valued the individual and strived to make life as harmonious and sustainable as possible for the almost 10,000 souls who call Silo 42 home.
His native ancestors told him his people had lived on this land for a thousand years before the arrival of the white man. He knew that someday he would return to the surface. is grandfather, a direct descendent of the Six Nations known as the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois Confederacy, always emphasized the importance of respect for the land and making decisions via consensus, the model they follow in Silo meetings.
It was difficult to believe that other Silo residents were not allowed to know the truth. To hold back knowledge made no sense. How can they be expected to provide leadership and guidance if the first thing the Founders do is lie to the Silo residents about their history and why they were living in this huge concrete structure in the first place? Even given that, it felt gratifying to share at least some of the truth with the residents of Silo 42.
Ahotay sat on the chair behind the server tower as it hummed along with his long silver braid draped over his shoulder. The rows of blinking lights caught his attention as he waited for the call. This section of the large room had been maintained as expected by Silo 1 with lights at 70 percent to match the illumination on the security camera. The paint on the wall behind him had been worn off years ago from thousands of hours of his ancestors’ backs had sat against this very wall. Directly behind the stool, the dull grey cement of the Silo wall had been exposed. Unlike other places in the Silo which residents continued to improve, here they maintained the deception of wear and tear.
He checked his watch as the secondhand swept past the 11 on its enviable march to 12. The predictability of the hands on the ancient watch was a relief compared to the surprises he faced when talking with the machine-like voices from Silo 1. These regular calls were like waiting for a train one knew was coming, but never knowing what it would deliver. The light began to flash just as the beeping started. He took a deep breath and exhaled completely readying himself for another “performance.” He took the aged plug and kissed the end as his ancestors had instructed. Showing the proper respect to the ones with ultimate control was one of the tenants from the original Pact. The logic was obvious when you thought about it. Respect leads to compliance which leads to stability.
He inserted the plug into its mate beneath the label marked number 1 and waited for the connection to be made. Several clicks were followed by the familiar synthesized voice on the other end. “Ahotay?”
“Yes, this is Ahotay.” He breathed slowly to keep his heart rate steady as he had been trained. He knew they were monitoring his vital signs through the headset sensors. Besides the monitoring sensors, the communication was primarily auditory. There was no video feed in this location.
“What is the status of selecting your shadow?” asked the voice.
“I have whittled down the qualified pool of candidates to two. I am passing along their histories now.”
He withdrew a small computer drive from his pocket and inserted it into the slot under the row of plugs. A yellow light blinked rapidly as the files were passed through the intra-Silo network to the main servers in Silo 1. He knew Silo 1 sat at the center of the huge Silo field and had life and death control over all the other Silos. His mind wandered as he awaited confirmation.
It was hard for him to imagine he had lived here for all of his 55 years. But watching the children of friends grow old before his eyes was irrefutable evidence that time was passing. Since he and his wife Meredith had chosen to not have children of their own, the time had come to select a shadow to follow in his footsteps. In most instances, selecting a Shadow was typically a straightforward proposition. Young folks tended to show their aptitudes early, and it was easy enough to test them out as interns before deciding who should be seriously considered a Shadow candidate. Other professionals in agriculture, manufacturing, education, electronics, and the hundreds of other occupations required to run the Silo were much less demanding compared to what was required by his position.
As the defacto head of the Silo, his role was much more extensive. His responsibility included that their Silo survived so the occupants could eventually return to the outside when the air once again became safe for humans. Unlike other Silos, he also had a deception to maintain, to ensure that Silo 1 never suspected they had taken a path different than that prescribed in the founding documents. Their discovery could mean the end of the Silo and their way of life.
“We have received the files. Keep us informed of your decision as soon as it has been made.”
“Of course,” he responded.
Without ceremony the voice moved on to other topics. “How are you dealing with the energy depletion issue?”
He had anticipated this topic and was prepared. “I have put the best people in mechanical on it.” He hesitated a moment before asking. “Have any of the other Silos had this issue?” The silence on the other end of the line told him all he needed to know. Their Silo was definitely not the only one. After almost a century of pumping oil and natural gas from beneath the Silos, it was of little surprise that the rate of energy production was eventually going to peak and then start declining.
The computer-disguised voice came back onto the line. “We will take your question under consideration and get back to you.”
Just as he suspected. But it really didn’t matter what they said. Fortunately, Silo 42 had solved this energy problem. The challenge was keeping that information from their overlords in Silo 1. He considered it just another part of the deception.
Ahotay checked his watch and hoped the call would be over soon. The voice returned in its flat and lifeless tone. “We see that you have scheduled another cleaning.”
“Yes, it was most unfortunate as this person was once a very respected member of our community.”
“We understand, but even the most patriotic among us sometimes go astray. We are sorry for your loss and respect your commitment to maintaining Silo stability.”
The irony was almost too much. Ah
“Have you been able to repair the external airlock video camera?” the voice asked.
“I am sorry sir — assuming it was a male voice despite the computer-generated masking — we have not due to a part shortage we previously mentioned. However, the internal airlock view should be working perfectly.”
He hoped that answer would suffice as they had no intention to show any more camera views to Silo 1 than they needed to. Unlike other Silo cleanings, Silo 42 no longer used the deadly gas that killed the cleaner before they could see the truth.
These Silo 1 calls were getting more and more stressful. He kept his breaths deep so his nervous system remained calm and any changes would not be detectable. Like all the Heads of IT, he had always known of the termination option. The bright red “X” drawn through Silo 12, and the older X’s over Silo 40, 49 and 17, were a constant reminder. He prayed to the Great Spirit that they would never have to be concerned about such a fate.
The Pact or set of rules and regulations which every Silo agreed to abide by, contained many taboos. At the top of its exhaustive list was to never speak about the “outside.” Even thinking about life outside the Silo was considered a grave sin and cause for immediate “cleaning.” He knew their alternative course of action contained risk, but it had proved a solid solution since his grandfather established the practice almost a century ago. Regular cleanings allowed them to monitor the outside conditions without ever raising questions from their overseers. His ancestors were convinced it was critical to know when they could safely leave the Silo and were committed to help future generations plan for that moment. If they could not accurately monitor the exterior atmosphere, they would never know what was truly happening outside. Using the cleanings was the easiest way to secretly gather this information.
It had been almost six months since their last cleaning and the Silo was in full preparation. He was anxious to finish the call and get on with his other responsibilities. “Will there be anything more?” Ahotay asked to get off the line as quickly as possible.
“No, that is all for now. We will review your file and let you know if we have any concerns.”
“Thank you for your eternal guidance and patience. Goodbye.”
He pulled the plug out and released a sigh he was sure could be heard all the way up to Level 1 where the preparations for the cleaning were being made. Another call, another month of relative peace. He seriously needed to shift his attention to picking a Shadow, a challenging process that needed to be done soon. But, for now, it was time to travel to the Up Top and meet with the other residents preparing for the upcoming cleaning celebration.
Chapter 2
Silo 42, Level 1, Welcome Plaza
When he arrived at the Level 30 landing, a basket was already waiting. The lift operator smiled as he approached and directed him to the scale.
“Hugo, you weighted me like two days ago. You think it has changed?”
“I understand sir. It is mostly a formality, but I need to record it anyway,” said the young lift operator.
After Ahotay stepped on the metal square, he was glad to see his weight was holding steady at just under 200 pounds. With his 6-foot 2-inch frame it was still 10 pounds more than he wished.
After the operator noted the number, he opened the basket door and motioned Ahotay inside. Two residents were already seated with small bundles on their laps. “Ladies,” he nodded to them, as he took a seat on the woven bench across from them and draped his long grey braid over his ancestorial vest. The women were dressed in colorful outfits obviously headed for the cleaning celebration as he was. The operator closed the door and spoke into the handset attached to his lapel. “I have 415 going up.”
“Roger. 415. One sec.” The vibration in the large hemp cables could be felt as the load 10 levels above them was adjusted. “Okay. We’re set to go with 435 coming down.”
The operator tapped the edge of the basket and spoke. “May it be a good cleaning.” The basket and the three passengers slowly began to rise as the descending counter balancing basket 10 floors above began its descent, filled with goods and passengers headed to the lower levels. As they ascended, he saw several children racing up the stairs including a porter whose back was piled high with items doing an admirable job keep up with them. Many found it funny there were still Silo residents who preferred the old fashion ways of hauling objects.
This process of loading and unloading was repeated two more times before he stepped off the lift at the top landing where he was greeted by Phyllis, the Silo’s Sheriff. She had held the position for the past decade and was well respected for how she administered justice. As the Silo’s chief law enforcer, she was considered firm but fair. At 5 foot 10 inches she was taller than most residents and her angular features could be either fierce or friendly depending on what the circumstances required.
Cleaning Day was one of her favorite events. Knowing that the view screens were going to be cleaned and the mood in the Silo would be buoyed by the ceremony was something she wished would happen more regularly.
As Phyllis and Ahotay walked up the last spiral to the “Tip Top Cafe,” the energy felt like it had been turned up several notches. The large cafeteria had been re-arranged to accommodate the overflow crowd with a head table moved to the opposite side of the room from the airlock door. The tables were set with the fancy dishes, and the delicious smell of homemade foods and fresh baked fruit pies wafted out of the kitchen and into the large space.
The person of honor, Rosemarie Matters, was in the “holding cell.” The name of the small space had been handed down from the early days, when offenders were confined before being sent out to clean, yet it seemed to still fit. The elderly sprite woman was attended to by several women, who combed her thinning hair, applied makeup to help smooth her age-worn skin, and massaged her delicate hands and feet for the task ahead. The Cleaning Ritual required a fair amount of walking and the use of both hands. It reminded him of the stories from the legacy books of princesses being readied for their wedding day long before the time of the Silos.
Rosemarie’s silver white hair blended nicely with the traditional white outfit she wore for the occasion. The soft material provided an under layer of protection and extra comfort beneath the heavy suit necessary for the Cleaning.
“You look beautiful my dear,” Ahotay said as he bent down and gently kissed the back of her hand. Do you have any questions?”
She smiled brightly before she said, “No, Ahotay, I have practiced all the steps involved.”
“Very well, Rosemarie. Your service to the Silo is greatly appreciated.”
He exited the holding cell and walked to the large screen on the wall that looked like a huge television display from ages past. Regardless of what was happening within these walls, the view outside never changed. The dead brown earth, the grey sky, and the dark swirling clouds illuminated by jagged lightening, offered a dismal vision of the world beyond the Silo. Some days when the wind was calmer, the Silo residents could see the hazy view of the ancient city in the distance. The broken skeletons of skyscrapers offered a constant reminder to Silo residents of the horrors from their distant past. The thick layer of grime on the screens reinforced the importance of the cleaning ritual.
As the ritual began, he took his seat at the head table just as Rosemarie was escorted out and guided to a seat at the center of the long table. The wreath of flowers in her hair was reminiscent of a bride on her wedding day. He looked out at the packed room, at the hundreds of residents who had made it all the way to the Up Top for this special event. He suspected thousands more were watching on the Silo’s video feed. Rosemarie, a former Mayor and teacher, had touched generations of Silo residents during her long life and many throughout the Silo loved her dearly.
The team of waiters dressed in neatly-pressed uniforms gracefully passed around plates of fresh steaming food while others poured glasses of red wine. Rosemarie had selected an excellent barrel of Merlot as her departing drink. The headwaiter with gold braids decorating his sleeves filled her special glass which had been made by the Silo metal crafters and had been used in this celebration for as long as he could remember. As the server finished pouring her drink, he bent down and kissed her rouge-covered cheek. His eyes were moist as he stood back up. “Thank you, Jerald,” she whispered. “There is no need for sadness. I have been blessed with a wonderful life.”
