Third Shift: Pact (Silo #2C)(44)

Eren covered his mic for a second as if he was about to argue, but shrugged. “How much time have you had in the Suit Labs?” he asked the shadow, studying the monitor in front of him.

“Not much, sir. Bernar— Uh, my boss, he’s wanting me to schedule time in the labs after, you know …”

“Yes. I do know.” Eren nodded. “How’s that problem in your lower levels going?”

“Um, well, I’m only kept apprised of the overall progress, and it sounds good.” Donald heard the shadow clear his throat. “That is, it sounds like progress is being made, that it won’t be much longer.”

A long pause. A deep breath. Waveforms relaxed. Eren glanced at Donald. The operator waved his finger for them to keep going.

Donald had a question, one that touched on his own regrets. “Would you have done anything differently, Lukas?” he asked. “From the beginning?”

There were red spikes on the monitors, and Donald felt his own temperature go up. Maybe he was asking something too close to home. He realized suddenly that these people they watched over were aliens, a different race, hundreds of years removed from his own kind. His pity for them grew. Such was how gods began doting on mortals, with pity.

“Nossir,” the young shadow said. “It was all by the Order, sir. Everything’s under control.”

The comm head reached to his controls and muted all of their headsets. “We’re getting borderline readings,” he told them. “His nerves are spiking. Can you push him a little more?”

Eren nodded. The operator on the other side of him shrugged and took a sip from his #1 mug.

“Settle him down first, though,” the comm head said.

Eren turned to Donald. “Congratulate him and then see if you can get him emotional,” he suggested. “Level him out and tweak him.”

Donald hesitated. It was all so artificial and manipulative. He forced himself to swallow. The mics were unmuted.

“You are next in line for the control and operation of Silo eighteen,” he said stiffly, sad for what he was dooming this poor soul to.

“Thank you, sir.” The shadow sounded relieved. Waveforms collapsed as if they’d struck a pier.

Now Donald fought for some way to push the young man. The comm head waving at him didn’t help. Donald glanced up at the map of the silos on the wall. He stood, the headphone cord stretching, and studied the several silos marked out, the one there with the number ’12.’ Donald considered the seriousness of what this young man had just taken on, what his job entailed, how many had died elsewhere because their leaders had let them down.

“Do you know the worst part of my job?” Donald asked. He could feel those in the comm room watching him. Donald was back on his first shift, initiating that other young man. He was back on his first shift, shutting a silo down. There was silence, and he worried that the shadow on the other end had removed his headset.

“What’s that, sir?” the voice asked.

“Standing here, looking at a silo on this map, and drawing a red cross through it. Can you imagine what that feels like?”

“I can’t, sir.”

Donald nodded. He appreciated the honest answer. He remembered what it felt like to watch those people spill out of 12 and perish on the landscape. He blinked his vision clear. “It feels like a parent losing thousands of children all at once,” he said.

The world stood still for a heartbeat or two. The operator and the comm head were both fixated on their monitors, looking for a crack. Eren watched Donald.

“You will have to be cruel to your children so as not to lose them,” Donald said.

“Yessir.”

Waveforms began to pulse like gentle surf. The comm head gave Donald the thumbs-up. He had seen enough. The boy had passed, and now the Rite was truly over.

“Welcome to Operation Fifty of the World Order, Lukas Kyle,” Eren said, reading from the script and taking over for Donald. “Now, if you have a question or two, I have the time to answer, but briefly.”

Donald remembered this part. He had a hand in this. He settled back into his chair, suddenly exhausted.

“Just one, sir. And I’ve been told it isn’t important, and I understand why that’s true, but I believe it will make my job here easier if I know.” The young man paused. “Is there … ?” A new red spike on his graph. “How did this all begin?”

Donald held his breath. He glanced around the room, but everyone else was watching their monitors as if any question was as good as another.

Donald responded before Eren could. “How badly do you wish to know?” he asked.

The shadow took in a breath. “It isn’t crucial,” he said, “but I would appreciate a sense of what we’re accomplishing, what we survived. It feels like it gives me—gives us a purpose, you know?”

“The reason is the purpose,” Donald told him. This was what he was beginning to learn from his studies. “Before I tell you, I’d like to hear what you think.”

He thought he could hear the shadow gulp. “What I think?” Lukas asked.

“Everyone has ideas,” Donald said. “Are you suggesting you don’t?”

“I think it was something we saw coming.”

Donald was impressed. He had a feeling this young man knew the answer and simply wanted confirmation. “That’s one possibility,” he agreed. “Consider this—” He thought how best to phrase it. “What if I told you that there were only fifty silos in all the world, and that we are in this infinitely small corner of that world?”