It seemed too easy. Could she really find and then attempt to hide something so contradictory to all that they knew and then just go on vacation? It was absurd. But, then again, what about this entire situation wasn’t completely absurd? Porters were called again for a person transport, much to her chagrin, and she began her long trip back down to the hotel.
It was late, the landing lights dimmed with only the red lights to provide some scant illumination. There was hardly any traffic at all now, third shift being the lightest manned. Every step sounded louder on the metal of the stairs than it did during the bustle of the day.
Marina took the time to think about her situation and how she should best handle it. She was under strict instructions—ones that she had agreed to abide by—to keep all the information she had to herself. She had found it difficult to agree at first, bristling at the thought of so much being hidden from the rest of the silo.
Greta and Piotr had understood her reservations and had patiently explained it all to her. In the end, it made too much sense for her not to agree with them. And they both hinted at more to be revealed. That was the problem with secrets. They were delicious and gave a certain pleasure when one shared in one, but that also encouraged more secrets. That bred dishonesty in its turn.
The Historian had been forthright and Marina sensed nothing at all dishonest in either her intent or her actions, merely caution. The secret rooms, the evidence within clearly pointing toward a deliberate destruction of some vast knowledge, were a source of disorder and insecurity for as long as the reason for the destruction was not known.
History was made of facts and it should remain as objective as possible. In the case of the burned books and maps one was led to two very different possibilities. Either the First Heroes that were the basis of their way of life had destroyed it purposely because it was dangerous to them or it was destroyed by the Others that tried to destroy humanity within the silo during the battle.
One could pick either scenario and make a case for it with a multitude of variations. But one could not be sure either was correct. What might occur if one chose wrongly in the deep future? If people decided that the enemies had destroyed the things and worked to repair them, but the truth was the reverse, what would the people unleash? And to add even more uncertainty, what if one part of this was destroyed by the Heroes and another part destroyed by Others?
These arguments, and others besides, had come from Greta with an earnestness that won Marina over and made it impossible for her to disagree. She evaluated her own motives and found that curiosity, an entirely personal curiosity that thought nothing of the well-being of others, was her true motive. She felt ashamed and had agreed to the condition.
When the porters lowered her chair to the floor of the hotel lobby, she gave them each her gratitude and a generous tip, took her bag and allowed one of them to escort her to her room. She was bone tired as she opened the door quietly. Inside, the room was dark save for the small sleep light that cast more shadows than light. Her husband and daughter were in their respective beds and it felt so good to be in their presence again she wanted to cuddle with them both and sleep for days.
In the dim recesses of the sleeping cubby that cradled her daughter, Marina could just make out the pale gleam of an out flung arm and the dark pool of her hair against the white pillow. On the other side of the partition, Joseph lay only on one side the bed, the side he had always taken in their years together. He, too, was fast asleep and the noise of his breathing, though not quite a snore, came across in the silence.
She stepped into the bathroom and got ready for bed. When she emerged in her undershirt with freshly brushed teeth and another dose of her pills swallowed, she saw that her husband was sitting up in bed, though he hadn’t turned on any lights. She put a finger to her lips, pointed to where Sela slept and crept on tiptoes to slide in next to her husband.
He kissed her quickly on the lips, the kind of kiss that is more a reassurance than a true kiss, and asked, “What was all that? Don’t tell me it was the reclamation either.”
“I’m glad to see you, too,” she whispered back with a bit of sarcasm in her tone.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m very glad to see you, but when I saw you last the mood was so thick you could bottle it for sauce. What happened?”
Marina smiled at him and brushed his cheek with her palm. “It really was about the reclamation and some of the items that are getting sent down. It seems a good many have historical value beyond their metal. But they must be chosen carefully so we don’t wind up saving it all rather than melting it down. It just took a while and not everyone agreed on what to do.” It was a sort of truth. Strangely enough, Marina didn’t feel at all bad about what she said so she knew it must be right.
They were silent for a moment while Marina enjoyed the warmth of the bed and her sleep heated husband. She considered how different her next few days would be from their plan and how best to get that news out of the way. She turned to look at him in the dim light and gave him a kiss just a little better than one he had given her.
She said, “Instead of all the other things, I’m going down to the Memoriam. I’m going to get a quick lesson on what is important and what isn’t so I’ll be able to manage the deliveries. I’ll be able to meet you by the time you get to your mother’s again.”
“Hmph,” came his quiet reply after a few beats. He slid down into the bed and got comfortable. He held out his arm so she might snuggle into him and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. They were quiet for a moment. “Well, if that is what you’re sticking with there must be a reason so I’ll ask you no more about it.”
She kissed his shoulder where her head lay and whispered, “Thank you. I love you.”
Chapter Ten
She woke to Sela shaking her bed with a big smile on her face. “Mom! You’re back! Wakey wakey!”
Marina groaned, turned over and pulled the pillow over her head to drown out the light and noise but it was no use. Joseph wasn’t in bed, his spot cold as she reached for him. She could hear the shower going. That meant he had been up long enough to have already had his morning tea. He was useless without that and wouldn’t have even entertained the notion of a shower before having a cup. Sela was dressed and her hair was neatly braided into two long ropes. It was not yet pinned up around her head in the fashion she favored but she had surely been awake for a while given her general state of near readiness.
In response to more shakes of the bed, Marina tossed the pillow at her daughter and said, “I got in late. Can’t I have more sleep? Just a little while? Have pity on your poor old mother!”
Sela just laughed and said, “Sleep is for after vacation. Today we’re supposed to go Up Top, to see the view!”
“Oh, really. Don’t you mean you and your Dad?”
Her face lost that excited expression and she slumped in the exaggerated fashion only teens seem to be able to pull off, “I forgot. Aww.” She flopped down onto the bed, bouncing her mother in the process.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re still going to do it. I just won’t be going with you. I’ll survive without seeing it. If I really wanted to see a bunch of dirt blowing around I’d go watch when they do fan maintenance,” Marina replied, retrieving her pillow and plumping it up behind her head.
Joseph squeezed his tall frame through the door of the tiny bathroom. He was wearing a pair of shorts and his undershirt. With him he brought a cloud of steam and the delicious smells of good soap and clean man. Marina smiled at him.