Ann Christy - Silo 49 - Deep Dark

The mouthpiece is awkward. The face piece looks a bit like a cone and keeps the lower half of his face out of view even when not engaged, but he can still speak. In order to seal it, he will have to shove his head forward inside the helmet, grab the mouthpiece with his mouth and clamp down on it. If that happens, and they are hoping it won’t, then he will no longer be able to speak and will be forced to use his leg key. The only reason for him to use that face piece would be in the case of a suit breech all the way into the inner layer.

They have found through terrible experience that getting whatever it is out there inside of the body is a sure path to death. Survival after topical exposure, at least for some period of time, is much more likely. Marina knows without looking that somewhere amongst the equipment at the various stations are irons which can be heated quickly and used against skin that is exposed. It is painful and not guaranteed, but it worked the only time they had tried it previous to this.

The last cleaner had worn through one knee of his suit quickly after a fall. It seems that anyplace there is friction, or where the suit faces the wind, the process of disintegration is faster. That cleaner’s breech had been very small, an area no more than a couple of inches across. The idea of using heat had come from a suit designer. His logic was that fire had once been used to cleanse the airlock of toxin so why wouldn’t it do the same when directly applied.

The whole process had been gruesome from what Marina read afterward and she was heartily glad not to have been there. But it had worked. That cleaner, afflicted with what was believed to be cancer of the lungs, lived without effect until it took him three months later. In quarantine for some of that time, he spent a halcyon month as a celebrity before he took to his bed for the last time.

Marina would rather not think about the iron and turns her gaze back to the runner. With his helmet in place, the cone rests in front of his face but she can see the smile in his eyes. He gives another thumbs-up to let them know the air is coming out of it at the rate it should. Marina knows from the briefings that it will be a very slow trickle rather than a stream. It is enough to keep him oxygenated but not enough to require any be vented. The scrubber will do the rest.

The ripping sound of more heat tape breaks the tense quiet and the helmet is finally fully sealed against encroachment. The secondary fitter and the quality checker go around Henry quickly but thoroughly, calling out a continuous stream of “Check” as each checklist item is called out. One hearty slap on the back for Henry, to get through all the layers, and he is ready to go.

The technicians leave the airlock and it is sealed with a clank of metal that many in the room flinch at. Marina notes that as well. From her seat, Marina can see Henry’s helmeted head through the little round window much like the one she looked through countless times during her former life as a Fabber. He turns to face forward with no ceremony and the process begins. It is almost anticlimactic.

Henry operates the second airlock himself and enters the mid-station. The door is actually the original airlock door but it has been extensively reworked. He seals it behind him and at the noise of it, the operator stations blaze to life once more. Henry’s reflected face shows up five feet tall on one of the screens while the door of the final section of airlock spins into view as he turns.

The shiny inside of the helmet is reflective enough that they have been able to have both cameras facing outward, one slightly offset to get more of the view. His ghostly reflection is more than enough to assess Henry’s situation though it is somewhat disconcerting, as if he were already halfway gone.

Marina, along with everyone else, watches as Henry’s view shifts slightly up and then back down. He has taken a deep and fortifying breath. His eyes narrow above the dark swath of the face cone and his hand appears in the view as he opens the door to enter the final bit of the airlock. He points with his head toward the door behind him to show that he has sealed it fully and the light that turned red when he opened it flashes back to green to confirm closure. The operators at the consoles give their confirmations and then the airlock operators start their work.

Through Henry’s helmet Marina sees the patter of droplets that rain down on him from the nozzles inside. The gas that was once used is now more just as the automated door mechanism is defunct. Marina now understands that this happened at the time of the First Heroes, but before her discovery of the Graham and Wallis books, it had been something they knew, but didn’t understand well. These nozzles are their own design and are nothing more than a fancy shower.

The solution the covers Henry is mostly water, but it contains a complex mix of chemicals that create an almost filmy layer on the suit. Marina dipped a finger into the solution before it was ported up to Level 1 and thought it strange. When she rubbed her fingers together they were slick and slippery but at the same time they felt like there was nothing there at all. She could see the glisten of the wetness on her fingertips, but could not feel it. The solution was years in the making.

They test coated several items, including suit fabric, and exposed it in the outer airlock with the door open. Whatever is in the air outside, it doesn’t like the juice at all. The uncoated items were pitted and eroded within moments. The coated ones barely touched. Even raw meat soaked in the fluid appeared less impacted than the uncoated slab.

The only downside is that the fluid is intensely irritating to the skin. When applied to humans —mostly technical personnel who volunteer too easily to test their new toys— it creates a burning rash that is intolerable. That irritation soon turns into watery blisters if the solution remains. And the only really effective way to wash it off is immersion in a tank full of water heavily dosed with laundry soap.

Everyone’s view skews as Henry rotates; lifting his arms and legs in turn to ensure he is as coated as he can possibly get. The hiss of the spray ceases abruptly and Henry faces forward once more. His eyes have gone from narrow to wide and almost surprised. A few calming words come from the operator so others in the room must have also noticed those widened eyes. The camera bobs as he nods and then says, “Let’s do this thing. I’m burning air, here.”

Deep rumbling noises from the airlock doors opening begin almost immediately and the vibration can be felt all the way to Marina’s chair. She grits her teeth and nods to an artist to capture the operators and the screen. The rest of them have their eyes as glued to the screens as everyone else. What she sees almost captures her, too.

The door has begun to open.

Henry’s head bobs up and down as he bounces, anxious for the doors to open completely enough for him to start his run. A few of the heads in the control room bob a little too in unconscious sympathy with what they see.

Marina knows that Henry is fully aware that he mustn’t try to push the envelope and squeeze through the gap in the doors. What he has on his body increases his bulk substantially and he can ill afford to have any of it damaged, least of all his suit.

A puff of dust laden wind pushes its way into the gap and makes the bright light outside hazy and beautiful for a moment. Henry raises a hand to clear his helmet, and a few people in the room gasp, but stops himself just in time. The coating is important for his gloves and brushing it away on his helmet is not a good idea so early in his run.