The boy licked his lips and smiled his wide, young smile, “That would be good. Porting is thirsty work.”
Marina led the way to the buffer door that brought them to the main hallway in this part of Level 99. She held the first door open for the young man, whose name still had not appeared in her mind, before she entered the buffer chamber herself and yanked down the lever that sealed them in. By habit she looked out the thick window, scratched and cloudy from countless years of use. The way was clear so she lifted the opposing lever and opened the second door. Her ears popped and she saw the porter work his jaw as his did the same.
Marina felt that pop as a relief, an indicator of the end of a work day and a signal to go home. It was much the same as the stretch of stiff muscles at her bench. The boy didn’t seem to enjoy it as much given the way he screwed up his face.
Again, she held the door for him and closed it behind them, slamming the lever home. The clank of metal on metal echoed along the deserted hallway, featureless save for more closed doors, worn tile and scuffed walls.
Marina walked briskly down the hall till she reached the Reclamation Room hastily converted for this project. Her project. It was one she didn’t relish doing but it was necessary. She was glad that she had brought the problem Up-Silo but that didn’t change the fact that this was a burden she’d rather not have now that the doing was required.
There was no need for caution against the ever present hallway breezes here so she opened the door without hesitation. She motioned for the porter to enter and gave a general wave toward the workbench so he would know where to put his load. He grunted a little as he eased the burden from his back and onto the cleared workbench. He withdrew some papers from the front pocket of his coveralls and smoothed the folds before handing them to her.
She glanced at the sheets, a little limp from the heat and sweat of the porter’s body, and set them aside to take two cups from a deep shelf. She poured him a cup and said, “Tea, fresh from this morning. Drink up. Have a seat.”
The boy took the cup eagerly and plopped into the only available chair. Marina suddenly remembered his name was Jason. She also remembered he was twenty or somewhere thereabouts and in love with a girl in Mechanical, which was why he always wanted to take loads to the Down Deep.
She did try to remember these details about people. Her husband had an uncanny knack for it but she found that it just wasn’t natural to her. She was more of a machine person, if she was honest about it, but she’d seen the reactions he got when he addressed people in personal ways. So she tried.
She sipped her tea as he gulped his down. He smacked his lips and accepted a refill, this time matching her sip with one of his own.
“That’s good. Nice and sweet. Thank you,” Jason said.
Marina could see he meant it sincerely. She wondered, not for the first time, if the porters liked her because of these little niceties. Not everyone showed the same courtesy. She knew some of her co-workers grumbled over the need to pay chits for far too little news or the way the porters always seemed to have more to tell than they did. Marina liked things to be regular and predictable so she never indulged in the news-for-money game. All news came around eventually. So, she always gave a modest tip, a cup of tea and a few moments rest whether they had news to share or not.
“You’re very welcome,” she said and returned his smile. She pulled the lens contraption from her head and laid it on the workbench with a relieved sigh. Her curly hair, once dark and now beginning to show a bit of gray, held a pronounced dent all the way around her head that she knew looked rather comical. When Jason looked up and made a face very close to a laugh, she patted it down and tucked the strays into the band of her ponytail.
The big pack full of boxes on her workbench kept luring her gaze away from the business at hand. She rubbed at the two irritated spots on either side of her forehead before she asked, “How did the collection go?”
He looked confused for a moment until Marina’s eye flicked toward the bundle. Then he shrugged. “I wasn’t there for that. It’s not my floor, but one of the porter shadows I know lives there. He said his mom cried when she gave up her ring.” He shrugged again. “I think that’s about it, though. It will make people sad but what can you do?”
Marina nodded, relieved that the only obvious impact was a few tears. She had feared worse. What might be included in this ‘worse’ option had even been discussed during the planning stages of the reclamation. A recurring discussion surrounding the possible consequences had almost toppled the effort. In the end, the council had decided the risk was worth it and passed the Reclamation Resolution. The alternative had been unacceptable and therefore, almost any risk was worth it.
“That’s good. I mean, it’s not good to make anyone cry, of course,” she clarified as she picked up her tea again and sipped. “But it’s good that people understand and are going along with it.”
Jason studied his cup and replied, “What else can they do? It’s not like we don’t all know the reason and the need.”
Marina reached over the workbench and patted the side of the bulky package, “And this will go a long way to filling that need, I hope.”
“Thank you again for the tea. I’ve got two more small deliveries to 120 and 135, so I’ve got to hit the treads,” Jason said, patting a bulging pocket on his thigh. “I like picking up and delivering to this level, though. The air, you know.” He said this as if Marina would understand his reference.
Marina’s brow crinkled and she sniffed without thinking about it. “The air? What about it?”
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out as he considered his response. “It’s very still. It smells of very few things and the air is quiet, like it can’t carry sounds very well or something.” He spread his hands in surrender, apparently giving up on the description.
“Huh,” she grunted and then leaned back a little on her stool to listen and test the air. She thought she felt what he was describing. “I think I know what you mean. It is sort of like that. But it’s not hard to figure out why.”
“Then why is it like that?” he asked, genuinely interested. Many porters went into that line of work because it was physical. It was a job full of motion and not a lot of thought. Others went into it because their curiosity spanned the silo and the idea of settling on one profession was simply too much to commit to. Jason seemed like one of the latter sort to Marina.
She thought he was a rather bright young man. The image of her daughter flashed through her mind and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was still in love. He was quite good looking. Tall, too. She brushed the thought away and answered him. “The buffer doors are probably the main reason. It keeps the breeze that flows throughout the silo at bay and the way the air is passed through means there is different pressure on each side of the buffer doors. That’s because of fire and gasses. Safety, you know. We use a lot of heat and chemicals on this level.”
She paused and tasted the air, recognizing for the first time in a long time the peculiar absence of life in it. “Also, there’s not much evidence of people in the air here. It is very clean.”
Jason nodded. “It’s a nice change once in a while for me. I get to smell everything.” His nose wrinkled at some remembered smell she guessed was not at all to his liking.
Marina laughed and tried to remember what it was like to be so young and full of life.
Adjusting his kerchief, Jason rose and handed Marina his cup. “One more for the stairs?”
Chapter Two
After the business was done and Jason had drunk his fill of tea, Marina bid him goodbye. His bulky pack had been replaced with just the wrapping and cords and he seemed far less burdened as he hurried down the hall. No doubt he was hurrying to catch some time with his girl while he could.