Ann Christy - Silo 49 - Deep Dark

The shower was small and had a door that folded rather than slid like those she had in her own residence because of the limited space. The metal sink and toilet were crammed in such close proximity that one might almost wash their hands in the one while still taking care of business on the other. She lifted a small jar of dark soap from the sink and caught the sweet, astringent scent of rosemary.

“Well, they have really nice soap. Mind if I go first?” she asked as she poked her head back out.

Joseph was lining up the vegetables he had taken from Sela’s pack on one of the shelves, carefully inspecting each for damage first. He didn’t turn from his task but said, “Go ahead.”

Sela was deeply involved in smoothing wrinkles from a long tunic and a pair of beige cotton pants. She stroked the fabric, already spread out as flat as possible on the bed, but it didn’t seem to be doing much to fix the problem. It was a rare occasion that brought out anything other than coveralls and Sela appeared both nervous and excited as she examined the wrinkled cotton.

The tunic was colorfully dyed in staggered bands of color from bright yellow at the top down to orange and finally to a deep red at the hem. It had been a gift from her father when she began to shadow for him and in the time since, she had never worn it outside their compartment.

“Sela, you might get those wrinkles out a little easier if you hang it in the bathroom while I shower. Hot showers work wonders for more than just getting clean.”

She stopped smoothing the fabric and looked up uncertainly. “Are you sure I should wear this? In public?”

“Absolutely,” Marina answered with conviction. “Lots of people wear them on special occasions. You just don’t see it that much because you always see people on business or going to work. Even Grandy wore clothes other than coveralls. She wore them almost every day when I was young.”

A skeptical look appeared on Sela’s face and she crossed her arms, a sure sign of disbelief. “Grandy? No way.”

Marina nodded, “Yes, way. She absolutely did. It was only when we traveled the stairs that she wore coveralls. When she got older and us kids grew up and moved out, she went back to work. That is why you saw her in coveralls all the time.”

Grandy was what Marina and the other orphans, and eventually their children, had called the woman who raised them. Sela had especially admired her and spent weeks in her company when she was little, learning how to draw and dance and play all the games that Grandy had taught her mother. If Grandy had worn paper wrappings and liked it, Sela would probably think it must be good to wear them too.

Sela turned away to consider the tunic again, then she snatched it up as if she might change her mind if she didn’t hurry and thrust it at her mother. “Okay. I will, but if anyone laughs at me I’m coming straight back here and changing. Deal?”

Marina took the cloth solemnly and agreed, “Deal.”

By the time Marina left the bathroom wrapped in a soft towel and carrying a much less wrinkled garment, Joseph and Sela were playing cards. It was apparently a fierce competition with much slapping of cards on the table required for participation. Sela hopped up, loudly victorious, and examined the tunic even as her mother laid it out on the bed.

Marina would also be wearing something other than coveralls this evening, the first time she had done so in front of strangers for many a year. She would never have admitted it, but she was quite nervous about it too. It was expected when dining in the Wardroom, though. She figured she would survive the ordeal.

It wasn’t as if wearing clothing other than coveralls weren’t allowed or anything. In many cases, such as this one, it was expected or even required. After all, they had about half an entire level dedicated to the manufacture and sale of fabrics and things made of fabric. Of that, only a portion was related to coveralls or patches for coveralls.

In the case of the Wardroom, very long tradition held that one did not eat there in coveralls unless one was a resident of the Wardroom residences and actually on duty. No one knew why but there it was.

By the time all three of the family members were ready to leave, Marina felt a bit like she was walking out of the door in her underwear. She had to work to restrain herself from crossing her arms in front of her chest. That would have probably sent Sela running back for the door.

Of the three, only Joseph seemed at ease. He wore a pair of blue pants just a few shades darker than the paint used to mark pipes for potable water. His tunic was longer than Marina’s, ending just above the knee and dyed a yellow almost as pale as the spare blanket in their hotel room. It was decorated with a line of spots of many colors, all of them blurred at the edges like someone had shaken wet hands covered in many different dyes at the yellow cloth and then liked the effect. Perhaps that is what happened. Whatever the case, it was a bold pattern and Marina liked it a great deal. It made his brown eyes and the slight curl in his short, dark hair somehow more handsome. The easy expression on his face made her want to reach out and touch him possessively.

What Sela and Marina wore was similar in concept to Joseph’s but Marina marveled at how different the final effect was. Both of their tunics stopped at mid-thigh and were slightly longer in back than in front. The sleeves were long, just as his were, but rather than being straight and ending without flourish, theirs ended wider and again longer in back than in front. They would need to be careful when eating or both would wind up dragging those sleeves through their meals.

In front, the neckline was squared rather than cut into the standard V-neck that Joseph wore. That square also dipped a bit lower than a coverall and Marina felt uncomfortable knowing the ridges of her clavicles were out for all to see. She felt even more uncomfortable knowing Sela’s clavicles were displayed.

The pants were somewhat safe, at least. Cut more trimly than the loose comfort of coveralls, they clung to the leg and ended above the ankle. Rather than boots, they all wore soft slippers most often worn while at home to keep feet off of chilly floor tiles.

Overall, the effect was certainly eye-catching and Joseph’s eyes had widened in pleased surprise and then narrowed suggestively when he saw her. “I like that color green on you. It’s much prettier than gray.”

She gave him a mock glare and he quickly added, “Of course, you’re pretty in any color.”

Sela rolled her eyes at them and then linked her own arm to her father’s on one side while Marina did the same from the other. They set out across the landing, now quieter and with far less traffic, and followed the curved walkway toward the Wardroom. The few people they passed nodded and smiled and pretended not to stare at their outfits but Marina could feel their eyes. A quick glance at Sela told her that she felt them too. Two bright spots of pink stood out high on her cheeks but she didn’t stop or bolt back to the hotel. Marina counted it a victory.

The Wardroom was tucked inside a part of Level 50 where residences that held specific purpose were. Most were tied to some post or another and only inhabited by the holder of that post. Families could and did live with those post holders on occasion, but in general the posts were temporary ones. Most people wouldn’t risk the loss of good quarters more convenient to the rest of their lives in order to move to these awkwardly situated small ones.

In some cases, they were used only as offices for the post holder or left entirely vacant by the person who should live there. Marina had checked the residence location for the Hardi that had sent the watch in for reclamation. It was a part of the residences somewhere inside Wardroom territory not tied to a post.