Hugh Howey: Dust

Those who arrived early helped prepare the food and push over the last of the servers. The smells of warm vegetables and soup filled the room. Two of the hottest servers, numbers 40 and 38, had been lowered to the ground with their power intact. Open cans were arranged atop their hot sides, the contents of each can simmering. There wasn’t enough silverware, so many stood drinking the soups and vegetable juice straight from warm cans.

Hannah helped Juliette set up for the Town Hall while Rickson tended to the baby. One of the schematics was already pinned to the wall, and Hannah was working on the other. Lines were carefully traced with thread, Hannah double-checking Juliette’s work. A charcoal was used to mark the route. Juliette watched another group file in. It occurred to her that this was her second Town Hall and that the first hadn’t gone so well. It occurred to her that this would most likely be her last.

Most of those gathered were from the farms, but then a few mechanics and miners began to show. Tom Higgins and the Planning Committee arrived from the Mids deputy station. Juliette saw one of them standing on a fallen server with a charcoal and paper, jabbing his finger as he attempted to count heads, cursing the milling crowd for making it difficult. She laughed, and then realized it was important, what he was doing. They would need to know. A cleaning suit lay empty at her feet, one of her props for the Town Hall. They would need to know how many suits and how many people.

Courtnee arrived and squeezed through the crowd, which came as a shock. Juliette beamed and embraced her friend.

“You smell like smoke,” Courtnee said.

Juliette laughed. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“The note said it was life or death.”

“It did?” She looked to Raph.

He shrugged. “Some of them might’ve said that,” he said.

“So what is this?” Courtnee said. “A long climb for some soup? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell everyone at once.” To Raph: “Can you see about getting everyone in here? And maybe send Miles and Shaw or one of the porters to the stairwell to see if any others are on their way.”

While he left, Juliette noticed that everyone was already sitting on the servers, backs to each other, slurping from cans while more were opened and arranged from the great stacks behind Solo. He had taken over popping the cans with some electric contraption that plugged into a floor outlet. Many of those seated were eyeing the pile of food hauled up from the pantry. Many more were eyeing her. The whispers were like an escape of steam.

Juliette fretted and paced as the numbers in the room swelled. Shaw and Miles returned to say the stairway was pretty quiet, maybe a few more heading up. It felt as though an entire day had passed since Juliette and Raph had fought the fire below; she didn’t want to glance at her watch and know the truth of the hour. She felt tired. Especially as everyone sat there, tipping their cans to their lips and tapping the bottoms, wiping their faces with their sleeves, watching her. Waiting.

The food had them quiet and momentarily content. The cans had their hands and mouths busy. It had won her some reprieve. Juliette knew it was now or never.

“I know you’re wondering what this is all about,” she began. “Why we’re here.” She raised her voice, and the conversations across the fallen servers fell quiet. “And I don’t mean here, in this room. I mean this silo. Why did we run? There are a lot of rumors swirling, but I am here to tell you the truth. I have brought you into this most secretive of rooms to tell you the truth. Our silo was destroyed. It was poisoned. Those who did not make it over with us are gone.”

There was a hiss of whispers. “Poisoned by who?” someone shouted.

“The same people who put us underground hundreds of years ago. I need you to listen. Please listen.”

The crowd quietened.

“Our ancestors were put underground so that we might survive while the world got better. As many of you know, I went outside before our home was taken from us. I sampled the air out there, and I think the farther we get from this place, the better the conditions are. Not only do I suspect this from what we measured, I have heard from another silo that there are blue skies beyond the—”

“Ratshit!” someone yelled. “I heard that was a lie, something they did to your brain before you went to clean.”

Juliette found the person who’d said that. It was an older porter, one whose profession was the locus not just of rumors but also of secrets too dangerous to sell. While people whispered again, she saw a new arrival shuffle through the thick metal door at the far end of the room. It was Father Wendel, his arms crossed over his chest, hands stuffed into his sleeves. Bobby bellowed for everyone to shut up, and they gradually did. Juliette waved a greeting to Father Wendel, and heads turned.

“I need you to take some of what I’m about to say on faith,” Juliette said. “Some of what I say I know for certain. I know this: We could stay here and make a life, but I don’t know for how long. And we would live in fear. Not just fear of each other, but fear that disaster can visit us at any time. They can open our doors without asking, can poison our air without telling, and they can take our lives without warning. And I don’t know what kind of life that would be.”

The room was as still as death.

“The alternative is to go. But if we do, there’s no coming back—”

“Go where?” someone yelled. “Another silo? What if it’s worse than this one?”

“Not another silo,” Juliette said. She moved to the side so they could see the schematic on the wall. “Here they are. The fifty silos. This one was our home.” She pointed, and there was a rustle as everyone strained to see. Juliette felt her throat tighten with emotion at the overwhelming joy and sadness of telling the truth to her people. She slid her finger to the adjacent silo. “This is where we are now.”

“So many,” she heard someone whisper.

“How far are they?” another asked.

“I drew a line to show how we got here.” She pointed. “It may be hard to see from the back. And this line here, this is where our digging machine was pointing.” She traced it with her finger so they could see where it led. Her finger went sideways off the map and to the wall. Waving to Elise, Juliette had her come up and press her finger to a spot she’d already marked.

“This schematic is for the silo we’re currently in.” She moved to the next sheet of paper. “It shows another digging machine at the base—”

“We don’t want your digging—”

Juliette turned to the audience. “I don’t want to dig either. Honestly, I don’t think we have enough fuel left, because we’ve been burning it since we got here and because we worked the machine hard to get her to turn. And I don’t think we have food for more than a week or two, not for everyone. We’re not digging. But our schematic matched the size and location of the machine we found back home. It matched it perfectly to scale and even the direction it was pointing. I have a schematic here of this silo and this digger.” She ran her hand over the other sheet of paper, then went back to the large map. “When I plot this, look how the line goes between all the other silos, not touching any of them.” She walked and slid her finger across the line until she touched Elise’s finger. Elise beamed up at her.

“We have a good guess of the fuel we used to get to this silo, and how much remains. We know how much fuel we started with and how fast it burns. And what we determined is that the digger was loaded up with just enough fuel — with maybe ten percent extra — to have taken us directly to this spot.” She again touched Elise’s finger. “And the diggers are aimed slightly up. We think they were placed here to take us to this point — to get us out of here.” She paused. “I don’t know when they were going to tell us — if they were ever going to tell us — but I say we don’t wait to be asked. I say we go.”