Shadows (11 page)

Read Shadows Online

Authors: Peter Cawdron

Tags: #wool, #silo, #dystopian adventure, #silo saga

BOOK: Shadows
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Less than five minutes
later, she reached the cafeteria and was surprised to find the
lights on. It was just after 9 PM. Normally, the entire floor was
deserted by then, but a small crowd had gathered by some
scaffolding set up to one side of the sheriff's office, just in
front of the mayoral office. Charlie was there, talking to Sheriff
Cann. Susan jogged over.


Hey,

she said somewhat wearily to
Charlie.

What's up?

Charlie excused himself
from talking with the sheriff and walked way from the crowd as he
spoke with Susan.


Surprised?

he asked.


What's going
on?

she asked, in no mood for games. She had a fair idea
what was going on but she wanted to hear it from his
lips.


I've set up
a little demonstration,

he replied, trying
to suppress a grin.

Susan pointed
to one side, gesturing to somewhere deep below them within the
silo, saying,

Of something we saw
the other night?

Charlie just
smiled.


You can't do
this,

she pleaded with him.

It's too risky.
Please, talk to me before you go doing anything like
this.


Relax,

Charlie replied, reaching out and
taking her hand.

It's OK. They're
going to love this.

Susan spoke
under her breath, saying,

If Hammond finds out
where your inventions are coming from, he'll skin you
alive.


He won't
find out,

Charlie said.

He won't even know
until it's too late.


Ah,

Susan replied, raising her
eyebrows.

You know he's on his way up here,
right?

Charlie went
silent.


I passed him
on the staircase,

Susan continued.

He's with
Mayor Johns.


Shit.


Shit
indeed,

Susan replied, shaking her head
softly.


I'd hoped to
get everyone on board before he saw this,

Charlie
confessed.

Mayor Johns and Hammond
walked from the staircase and greeted Sheriff Cann.


So what's
this I hear about some new invention?

Hammond asked,
stroking his beard, his bullish voice carrying in the open
area.


Young
Charlie's got something he wants to show us,

the sheriff
replied, gesturing to Charlie.

Take it away,
Charlie.

The small crowd milled
around the scaffolding, looking at the ropes reaching from a steel
plate up to a cross-member sitting just below the
ceiling.


Ah,

Charlie began, trying not to look at
his feet.

As you know, I like tinkering with things. I
know, not really something dirt farmers normally do, but turning
soil gives you plenty of time to think, and, ah ... so ... I've
been thinking about how we could help each other, how we could help
the silo to function better.

Hammond
wasn't going to be a passive spectator, that much was obvious. He
growled under his breath, saying,

Silo works pretty
darn well if you ask me.

A few others within
the crowd mumbled their agreement.


Well, Susan
is here. And she's a porter,

Charlie
continued.

Susan was horrified. He was
dragging her into this without asking, without her even knowing
where he was going with his demonstration. She tried to smile, but
felt awkward, wanting to melt into the background.


And think
about porting for a moment,

Charlie
continued.

What's the most
weight a porter can carry? Fifty pounds? Perhaps sixty or seventy
pounds on a short haul?


What if we
could carry a hundred pounds as easily as you'd carry a quarter of
that weight?

The crowd was quiet, even
Hammond was listening.


What if we
could reduce weight to a quarter of its normal lifting load? And
what if we could take heavy objects between levels in a matter of a
minute or two?

Hammond
barked.

What the hell are you talking
about?


I'll show
you,

Charlie replied.

Here, I've got two
fifty pound bags of barely. A hundred pounds of barley all
together. Now, once a week, twenty men spend an entire day doing
nothing other than running back and forth up the stairs with fifty
pound bags over their shoulders to restock the kitchen. It's
exhausting, backbreaking work. What if we could reduce this to just
a couple of men working at a steady pace?

Hammond folded his arms
across his chest.

Charlie wasn't going to be
deterred. He continued without breaking step.


The ropes
you can see winding back and forth to the frame above are actually
just one length of rope wrapping around these wheels several times.
The effect of this is that I can pull a hundred pounds of barley
with the same amount of effort as it would take to pick up half a
bag, a mere twenty five pounds.

Charlie dragged the two
bags of barley onto the plate, positioning them centrally. He then
pulled on the loose end of the rope. The ease with which he could
raise the barely was obvious. He quickly pulled the steel plate
holding the two bags of barley up to the roof and then lowered it
down again with little effort.


Anyone want
to give it a try?

he asked.


It's a
trick,

Hammond growled.

Those bags are
empty.


I assure
you,

Charlie said.

This is no magic
trick, just a simple example of leverage in
action.

Hammond stormed over and
picked up one bag and then another, barely lifting them off the
steel plate before dropping them again, apparently satisfied with
their weight. Sheriff Cann couldn't resist. He took up Charlie's
offer, grabbing the rope and pulling on it, working it through his
hands until the platform with the bags of barley was as high as it
could reach.


This is
remarkable,

he said, lowering the barley back to
the ground.

Think of what we
could accomplish.

Mayor Johns was silent.
From her body language and the nervous motion of her eyes, it was
clear the mayor wasn't going to wade into the discussion, she was
waiting to see which way Hammond would lean.


You'll put
porters out of business,

Hammond
cried.

Is that what you're trying to do? Are you trying
to wreck an entire class of workers?


No,

Charlie replied.

I'm trying
to help them carry more with less effort, fewer injuries and
strains.


What the
hell do you take me for, boy?

Hammond
snarled.

A fool? I suppose you want to rig this thing
over the Great Fall?


Yes,

Charlie replied.

We could
rig a swinging arm on each
—”


Am I the
only one that sees this as madness?

Hammond asked,
looking at those around him.

The first time one
of these loads comes loose and falls it'll kill someone. If a heavy
enough load hits the stairs it could rip them out of the wall.
There's a reason we do things the same way over and over again.
Ours is a simple life, but a life of calculated efficiency and
balance. There's nothing wrong with hard work. Sweat is a friend,
keeps us fit and healthy.


I
—”
Charlie began, but Hammond wasn't
finished.


Hold your
tongue before your elders! You're a goddamn shadow! You don't tell
me what to do. You don't cast a shadow, you are the shadow! You
listen. You learn. You copy. Know your place, young
man.


But
—”
Charlie tried.


I will not
have you interrupt me, an elder of the silo! You have to earn the
right to speak up through years of toil. One day you'll have that
right, but not now. For now, you listen. Are we
clear?

Susan swallowed the lump in
her throat. Charlie looked down at his feet. Neither of them nodded
or indicated any kind of acceptance of Hammond's fiery rant, and
that must have enraged him even more as his voice grew in
intensity.


You think
you know all this stuff,

Hammond
cried.

You don't know shit. This isn

t about
lifting bags of barley between floors, this is about how the silo
functions like a well-oiled machine. You can't just go changing one
part without affecting another. And you don't think about that. You
don't see the consequence of your actions.


Think of the
lost wages for the porters carrying that barley. Think of the
impact on their families and their standard of living. Think about
the delays that will occur on the staircase because your damn
machine is blocking two landings at once. If we start using some
fancy contraption like this our society will shift and change in
ways you can't predict.


And what are
you going to say to the wife of the first man that dies in an
accident involving this piece of junk? Are you going to stand there
and tell her that change is good? What will you tell her children?
That everything's OK because we've made life easy for a couple of
dumb porters?


There's a
reason we follow the Order. There's a reason we keep things the
same, because that's what it takes to survive within the silo. Mark
my words, no good will come from fancy tricks.


But,

Charlie interjected, determined to
have his say.

But we use
technology in other ways to help us. We use computers in IT. We use
pumps and generators in the Down Deep. How is this any
different?

Hammond stepped in front of
Charlie and raised his fist. For a split second, Susan thought he
was going to hit him, but he stuck a finger barely an inch from his
nose, pointing it at Charlie like a dagger. Specks of spittle
caught in Hammond's beard.


I will not
be lectured by a shadow,

he bellowed.

Do you hear me?

Gesturing
toward the airlock, he added,

You will learn your
place or you will leave this place, is that clear?
Don

t ask. Don

t think.
Don

t question. Just stay in the
shadows!

Susan was
shaking.

Hammond
turned to those around him, saying,

Dismantle this
contraption and bring it down to IT, I want every goddamn nut and
bolt in my office by dawn. This demonstration is finished, the
discussion is over.

Hammond stormed off with
Mayor Johns by his side.

Sheriff Cann rested his
hand on Charlie's shoulder, patting it gently before he turned and
walked away into his office. He said something to Charlie, but
Susan didn't catch the words. Several of the men in the crowd began
dismantling the scaffolding. Charlie just stood there
stunned.

Susan took his hand,
leading him over to one of the tables by the wall-screen. Charlie
had tears running down his face, leaving wet tracks on his cheeks.
Someone dimmed the lights. Susan sat there silently beside Charlie
as he watched his pulley system being dismantled.

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