Marina smiled and patted Greta’s shoulder as she passed her to deliver yet more logs to the shelves. These hadn’t turned out to be very useful, containing only the records of repairs without a consistent date pattern. She opened the first book to look where they wanted it shelved and found no note. She put it aside and shelved the others before returning to it. Marina had been doing a lot of this organizing too so she thought she would see if she could place it herself rather than go ask for help yet again.
Flipping open the cover, she scanned the first pages of work to see the levels. That was easy to figure out. Then she looked at the repair types to see what type of repairs. Also easy, electrical and electrical related. Feeling rather satisfied, she trailed a finger along the spines of the books arrayed before her to find the level and the type. And then it hit her.
Stepping back from the shelves she opened the book again and looked at the locations. They were all strings of numbers with little dashes between them. A junction box on Level 20 read 20-14-37J. An electrical panel on Level one read 1-11-23F. They were all like that. The letters must be the codes for the type of box and the more she looked along the lines the more that seemed likely. Another listed as switchbox had an S. Another with a R was marked relay. It was simple, logical and very mechanical.
She shoved the book in the slim bit of space between the books and the shelf and took the little book from her pocket. Opened to Walls’ letter, she saw how easy it was to read and figure out if only one knew what to look for. She considered this and wondered if Wallis had known that the only time his clues were likely to be deciphered was if there were many someones to do the deciphering, each contributing what they knew from their own lives.
She tucked the book into her pocket again and shelved the log. She bit a ragged bit on her thumbnail as she tried to figure out her next move. It was a long climb to Level 5 and would take a good while for her to make. They were due for a day off but her family would be expecting her. That wouldn’t work.
She felt a sharp pain as the ragged edge let go so she shoved that hand in her pocket and leaned her forehead against the shelves. She had to figure out how to get a day alone. She might be wrong, true, but she could be right. It was worth finding out.
Piotr died that night so making plans were the last thing on Marina’s mind once she finally discovered the fact. No one woke her so she had no idea what had happened when she stumbled out of her room to grab some breakfast before work and found the atmosphere strangely oppressive and still.
In the dining hall there were vague whispers and sidelong looks that first made Marina check to be sure she was buttoned up and then that her coveralls weren’t ripped in the back. None of her compatriots were in the room so she sat by herself to eat, the few others present clustered at the other end of the room.
She had already finished her breakfast grains, a bit of fruit and strong tea before anyone approached her. The historian shadow, Florine, walked over hesitantly. Her hunched walk was out of character, more like a shuffle than her bouncing stride.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” she said in a quiet and serious voice.
Marina didn’t know what to think. Clearly she had missed something vital here. Her thoughts went to her husband and daughter first. “What loss? Who was lost?” she demanded.
“Oh, I thought they must have told you. I’m sorry,” the girl trailed off, uncomfortable now.
“What in silo’s name are you talking about? Did someone die? Who was it?” Marina asked loudly, standing now, breakfast tray forgotten. “Did something happen to my family?”
The girl had been backing up, looking confused and a little frightened at Marina’s response. Though she looked behind her, probably for someone better equipped than she for giving bad news, her head whipped back around at Marina’s final words and she said, “No. No. I’m sorry. No, nothing like that!”
Her body felt like it deflated all at once when she realized it wasn’t her family. She didn’t need the stumbling words, Florine’s expression was enough. She sagged against the table and into her chair again. She put her head in her hands and tried to still her shaking limbs sourcing from her racing heart. She vaguely heard the girl give a little half sob and tell someone else that she was sorry. Marina didn’t raise her head when someone started soothing Florine and the two moved away.
The sound of a clearing throat next to the table finally made Marina open her eyes and raise her head. It was Greta. Someone must have gone to get her. She said, “She didn’t mean to frighten you like that. She’s young and doesn’t know what it’s like to be a mother. She thought you knew.”
“Knew what?” Marina asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Why did bad things always seem to come when they were least looked for.
Greta pulled one of the chairs around next to her and sat down, a bad sign for sure. She took Marina’s hand and said, “Piotr passed last night.”
The words registered but the concept didn’t. Piotr passed last night. What is that? He was here and he ate dinner and he played a game of checkers with Taylor while Greta and she played a game of cards right next to them. Passed?
Marina shook her head and asked, “You’re telling me that Piotr is dead?”
Greta winced at the word but she nodded. Marina could see her throat bobbing as the other woman held her emotions in check. They said nothing for a moment. Greta must have managed to push down her feelings because she said, “It was an accident. On the stairs.”
The stairs? Marina put her free hand to her mouth. That would be a terrible death. How could that careful man have had an accident? What would he have been doing on the stairs anyway?
“I don’t understand, Greta. How did he have an accident on the stairs? When could he have?”
“It was stupid. Just a stupid accident.” Her voice broke then and fat tears rolled down her face.
Marina didn’t know how to ask delicately, so she decided the best approach was just to ask. “Did he fall?”
It was Greta’s turn to put her head in her hands. A muffled sob came from under her hands and she nodded.
She didn’t want to push Greta any farther. Clearly, they were all friends now but Greta and Piotr had a long history of mutual work and that had been taking root as a strong friendship, the kind one didn’t find all that often in life. She suddenly remembered his family and said, “What about his wife? His kids?”
Greta’s sobs intensified then and whatever she said then was entirely unintelligible, but Marina assumed it was just more sad confirmations. She shook her head, thinking of Piotr, thinking of him falling, of what a fall can do to a body. What his family would face when they heard about it over and over as time passed was even worse. The joke all falls became with time would prevent them from ever truly healing.
“You’re sure it was an accident?” Marina asked, though she regretted it the moment Greta raised her head. Her eyes were red and wet and very hurt at the question.
“Never mind. It had to be an accident,” Marina answered herself.
They sat there, Marina’s leftover breakfast congealing on her tray and the tea developing an oily slick on top. After a while, Greta took her kerchief from around her neck, blotted her swollen eyes and blew her equally swollen nose. She hiccupped a few times but the storm had passed and this was all just the aftereffects. Marina waited.
“It was the lights that did it,” Greta said suddenly. It meant nothing to Marina so she raised her eyebrows in question. Greta saw and explained, “The lights didn’t shift right. You know that moment of dark you sometimes get before the red lights come on after the half-dim lights go out?”