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Down a short hallway, the tile gave way to metal grating, and a broad cylinder dived straight through the heart of the facility. Anna had been right. It really was worth seeing.

They reached the railing of the central shaft, and Donald paused to peer over. The vast height made him forget for a moment that he was underground. On the other side of the landing, a conveyor lift rattled on its gears while a never-ending series of flat loading trays spun empty over the top. It reminded Donald of the buckets on a waterwheel. The trays flopped over before descending back down through the building.

The men and women from outside deposited each of their containers onto one of the empty trays before turning and heading back out. Donald looked for Mick and saw him disappearing down the staircase.

He hurried after, his fear of being buried alive chasing him.

‘Hey!’

His shoes slapped the freshly painted stairs, the diamond plating keeping him from skidding off in his haste. He caught up with Mick as they made a full circuit of the thick inner post. Tupperware containers full of emergency supplies — supplies Donald figured would rot, unused — drifted eerily downward beyond the rail.

‘I don’t want to go any deeper than this,’ he insisted.

‘Two levels down,’ Mick called back up. ‘C’mon, man, I want you to see.’

Donald numbly obeyed. It would’ve been worse to make his way out alone.

At the first landing they came to, a worker stood by the conveyor with some type of gun. As the next container passed by, he shot its side with a flash of red, the scanner buzzing. The worker leaned on the railing, waiting for the next one while the container continued its ratcheting plummet.

‘Did I miss something?’ Donald asked. ‘Are we still fighting deadlines? What’s with all the supplies?’

Mick shook his head. ‘Deadlines, lifelines,’ he said.

At least, that’s what Donald thought his friend said. Mick seemed lost in thought.

They spiralled down another level to the next landing, ten more metres of reinforced concrete between, thirty-three feet of wasted depth. Donald knew the floor. And not just from the plans he’d drawn. He and Mick had toured a floor like this in the factory where it had been built.

‘I’ve been here before,’ he told Mick.

Mick nodded. He waved Donald down the hallway until it made a turn. Mick picked one of the doors, seemingly at random, and opened it for Donald. Most of the floors had been prefabbed and furnished before being craned into place. If that wasn’t the exact floor the two of them had toured, it had been one of the many just like it.

Once Donald was inside, Mick flicked on the apartment’s overhead lights and closed the door. Donald was surprised to see that the bed was made. Stacks of linen were piled up in a chair. Mick grabbed the linens and moved them to the floor. He sat down and nodded to the foot of the bed.

Donald ignored him and poked his head into the small bathroom. ‘This is actually pretty cool to see,’ he told his friend. He reached out and turned the knob on the sink, expecting nothing. When clear water gurgled out, he found himself laughing.

‘I knew you’d dig it once you saw it,’ Mick said quietly.

Donald caught sight of himself in the mirror, the joy still on his face. He tended to forget how the corners of his eyes wrinkled up when he smiled. He touched his hair, sprinkles of grey even though he had another five years before he was over that proverbial hill. His job was ageing him prematurely. He had feared it might.

‘Amazing that we built this, huh?’ Mick asked. Donald turned and joined his friend in the tight quarters. He wondered if it was the work they’d been elected to perform that had aged them both or if it had been this one project, this all-consuming build.

‘I appreciate you forcing me down here.’ He almost added that he would love to see the rest, but he figured that would be pushing it. Besides, the crews back in the Georgia tents were probably looking for them already.

‘Look,’ Mick said, ‘there’s something I want to tell you.’

Donald looked at his friend, who seemed to be searching for the words. He glanced at the door. Mick was silent. Donald finally relented and sat at the foot of the bed.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

But he thought he knew. The Senator had included Mick in his other project, the one that had driven Donald to seek help from the doctor. Donald thought of the thick book he had largely memorised. Mick had done the same. And he’d brought him there not just to let him see what they’d accomplished, but to find a spot of perfect privacy, a place where secrets could be divulged. He patted his pocket where he kept his pills, the ones that kept his thoughts from running off to dangerous places.

‘Hey,’ Donald said, ‘I don’t want you saying anything you’re not supposed to—’

Mick looked up, eyes wide with surprise.

‘You don’t need to say anything, Mick. Assume I know what you know.’

Mick shook his head sadly. ‘You don’t,’ he said.

‘Well, assume it anyway. I don’t want to know anything.’

‘I need you to know.’

‘I’d rather not—’

‘It’s not a secret, man. It’s just… I want you to know that I love you like a brother. I always have.’

The two of them sat in silence. Donald glanced at the door. The moment was uncomfortable, but it somehow filled his heart to hear Mick say it.

‘Look—’ Donald started.

‘I know I’m always hard on you,’ Mick said. ‘And hell, I’m sorry. I really do look up to you. And Helen.’ Mick turned to the side and scratched at his cheek. ‘I’m happy for the two of you.’

Donald reached across the narrow space and squeezed his friend’s arm.

‘You’re a good friend, Mick. I’m glad we’ve had this time together, the last few years, running for office, building this—’

Mick nodded. ‘Yeah. Me too. But listen, I didn’t bring you down here to get all sappy like this.’ He reached for his cheek again, and Donald saw that he was wiping at his eyes. ‘I had a talk with Thurman last night. He — a few months ago, he offered me a spot on a team, a top team, and I told him last night that I’d rather you take it.’

‘What? A committee?’ Donald couldn’t imagine his friend giving up an appointment, any kind of appointment. ‘Which one?’

Mick shook his head. ‘No, something else.’

‘What?’ Donald asked.

‘Look,’ Mick said, ‘when you find out about it, and you understand what’s going on, I want you to think of me right here.’ Mick glanced around the room. There were a few breaths of complete silence punctuated by drips of water from the bathroom sink. ‘If I could choose to be anywhere, anywhere in the coming years, it would be right down here with the first group.’

‘Okay. Yeah, I’m not sure what you mean—’

‘You will. Just remember this, all right? That I love you like a brother and that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. For you or for Helen.’

‘Okay.’ Donald smiled. He couldn’t tell if Mick was fucking with him or if his friend had consumed a few too many Bloody Marys from the hospitality tent that morning.

‘All right.’ Mick stood abruptly. He certainly moved as though he were sober. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here. This place gives me the creeps.’

Mick threw open the door and flicked off the lights.

‘Wimping out, eh?’ Donald called after his friend.