The whole process had been gruesome from what Marina read afterward and she was heartily glad not to have been there. But it had worked. That cleaner, afflicted with what was believed to be cancer of the lungs, lived without effect until it took him three months later. In quarantine for some of that time, he spent a halcyon month as a celebrity before he took to his bed for the last time.
Marina would rather not think about the iron and turns her gaze back to the runner. With his helmet in place, the cone rests in front of his face but she can see the smile in his eyes. He gives another thumbs-up to let them know the air is coming out of it at the rate it should. Marina knows from the briefings that it will be a very slow trickle rather than a stream. It is enough to keep him oxygenated but not enough to require any be vented. The scrubber will do the rest.
The ripping sound of more heat tape breaks the tense quiet and the helmet is finally fully sealed against encroachment. The secondary fitter and the quality checker go around Henry quickly but thoroughly, calling out a continuous stream of “Check” as each checklist item is called out. One hearty slap on the back for Henry, to get through all the layers, and he is ready to go.
The technicians leave the airlock and it is sealed with a clank of metal that many in the room flinch at. Marina notes that as well. From her seat, Marina can see Henry’s helmeted head through the little round window much like the one she looked through countless times during her former life as a Fabber. He turns to face forward with no ceremony and the process begins. It is almost anticlimactic.
Chapter Three
Henry operates the second airlock himself and enters the mid-station. The door is actually the original airlock door but it has been extensively reworked. He seals it behind him and at the noise of it, the operator stations blaze to life once more. Henry’s reflected face shows up five feet tall on one of the screens while the door of the final section of airlock spins into view as he turns.
The shiny inside of the helmet is reflective enough that they have been able to have both cameras facing outward, one slightly offset to get more of the view. His ghostly reflection is more than enough to assess Henry’s situation though it is somewhat disconcerting, as if he were already halfway gone.
Marina, along with everyone else, watches as Henry’s view shifts slightly up and then back down. He has taken a deep and fortifying breath. His eyes narrow above the dark swath of the face cone and his hand appears in the view as he opens the door to enter the final bit of the airlock. He points with his head toward the door behind him to show that he has sealed it fully and the light that turned red when he opened it flashes back to green to confirm closure. The operators at the consoles give their confirmations and then the airlock operators start their work.
Through Henry’s helmet Marina sees the patter of droplets that rain down on him from the nozzles inside. The gas that was once used is now more just as the automated door mechanism is defunct. Marina now understands that this happened at the time of the First Heroes, but before her discovery of the Graham and Wallis books, it had been something they knew, but didn’t understand well. These nozzles are their own design and are nothing more than a fancy shower.
The solution the covers Henry is mostly water, but it contains a complex mix of chemicals that create an almost filmy layer on the suit. Marina dipped a finger into the solution before it was ported up to Level 1 and thought it strange. When she rubbed her fingers together they were slick and slippery but at the same time they felt like there was nothing there at all. She could see the glisten of the wetness on her fingertips, but could not feel it. The solution was years in the making.
They test coated several items, including suit fabric, and exposed it in the outer airlock with the door open. Whatever is in the air outside, it doesn’t like the juice at all. The uncoated items were pitted and eroded within moments. The coated ones barely touched. Even raw meat soaked in the fluid appeared less impacted than the uncoated slab.
The only downside is that the fluid is intensely irritating to the skin. When applied to humans —mostly technical personnel who volunteer too easily to test their new toys— it creates a burning rash that is intolerable. That irritation soon turns into watery blisters if the solution remains. And the only really effective way to wash it off is immersion in a tank full of water heavily dosed with laundry soap.
Everyone’s view skews as Henry rotates; lifting his arms and legs in turn to ensure he is as coated as he can possibly get. The hiss of the spray ceases abruptly and Henry faces forward once more. His eyes have gone from narrow to wide and almost surprised. A few calming words come from the operator so others in the room must have also noticed those widened eyes. The camera bobs as he nods and then says, “Let’s do this thing. I’m burning air, here.”
Deep rumbling noises from the airlock doors opening begin almost immediately and the vibration can be felt all the way to Marina’s chair. She grits her teeth and nods to an artist to capture the operators and the screen. The rest of them have their eyes as glued to the screens as everyone else. What she sees almost captures her, too.
The door has begun to open.
Chapter Four
Henry’s head bobs up and down as he bounces, anxious for the doors to open completely enough for him to start his run. A few of the heads in the control room bob a little too in unconscious sympathy with what they see.
Marina knows that Henry is fully aware that he mustn’t try to push the envelope and squeeze through the gap in the doors. What he has on his body increases his bulk substantially and he can ill afford to have any of it damaged, least of all his suit.
A puff of dust laden wind pushes its way into the gap and makes the bright light outside hazy and beautiful for a moment. Henry raises a hand to clear his helmet, and a few people in the room gasp, but stops himself just in time. The coating is important for his gloves and brushing it away on his helmet is not a good idea so early in his run.
When the opening is wide enough, the operator calls out a sharp, “Go!”, and Henry doesn’t pause for even a moment. He grabs the tank with the power wand that is waiting for him and bursts forward with long, confident strides. The tilt of the ramp looks so strange from her position in a chair that Marina feels a touch of vertigo. It lasts for only a moment and she regains the presence of mind to call out a sharp, “Draw”.
One of the artists calls back, “Got it!”, and starts without taking his eyes from the moving image.
Henry breeches the level ground beyond the ramp and it is a very strange thing to see. Perhaps it is the human element of his reflected face, but the world seems much larger through that helmet than in the view screen they see in the cafeteria. Or perhaps it is that the view is moving rapidly as he turns and scans the area while the one in the cafeteria is static and eternally still.
What he is doing is all a part of his script. Stop, turn a full 360 and show the view, turn back to the silo itself and stop again. He is doing it so perfectly it is like he is reciting it in his head. Perhaps he is. The operator who is in charge of speaking with Henry throughout his run gives him a confirming check for the next stage.
Henry brings up the wand and a blast of their solution comes screaming out of the tank at the flick of his finger. It is under pressure and meant to work quickly and completely. If there is time, Henry will put on the ablative film during his return run, but that is not their priority. The view is still in pretty good shape for now and the blast from their washing tank should be enough to clean it.