To Graham it seemed as if Wallis had been more himself than since his wife died as the night wore on and Graham was able to uncover the truth of this world for him. At first Wallis had thought Graham was joking. Then he had thought he was ill, going so far as to get up from his seat and lay a hand on Graham’s forehead to check for fever.
After that he got angry, but it was a brief anger borne of having disbelief turn into truth. His natural curiosity displaced the anger quickly enough and eventually transformed into interest and engagement. It went better than Graham could have hoped.
Graham had tried to be systematic and avoid confusion, just as his caster had done for him during those first critical revelations decades before. Revealing each new truth one layer at a time made the process less painful and more easily accepted. Just as one prepared a surface so that it would last with time by priming it and letting it cure in the air before adding a first coat of paint, Graham tried to expose all the realities of this world to Wallis in good order and with careful attention to detail.
That tactic might have worked for a young shadow, but Wallis was no young man like he had been, and his friend had the experiences of a lifetime to relate to. He made leaps and connections between the words Graham said and his own experiences. The more they talked, the more Graham found himself hurrying to catch up and stay ahead of his friend.
By the time their eyes had gone sandpaper dry and the need for sleep had become urgent, Graham felt he had done a respectable job of laying out facts it had taken him a decade or more to truly accept. Just as his own caster had done with him, and as he had done with his long-dead shadow, he watched Wallis for signs of breaking. That was tricky though. The entire thing was distressing. It was the level of distress and reaction to it that needed to be carefully measured and prepared for.
As Graham tried to find a comfortable position on the sagging couch with springs that twanged at random moments, he realized he had never once considered what he would do had Wallis been unable to accept the information. He had no weapon and it never occurred to him, not even in passing, that he would have harmed the man. It seemed to Graham that he was either very desperate or very confident in his friend’s mental stability. He was consciously aware of neither thing. To the accompaniment of Wallis’ snores nearby and the twang of yet another spring, Graham finally slept.
It seemed as if only a moment had passed when he woke, so he must have slept soundly and well despite the couch and its unruly springs. He was stiff and sore and his left leg was deeply asleep. Wallis sat watching him from a chair just a few feet away wearing nothing but an undershirt and his shorts. It was an unnerving sight to wake up to.
Wallis looked almost excited, leaning forward as he was, his eyes alight with all that he had learned. Graham wondered if his friend had slept much at all. Even the sharp bristles of beard on his unshaven face, more gray than brown now, seemed to be standing straight up and ready to hear more.
“What? You okay?” Graham asked, his voice croaking and his mouth dry as old bones. He smacked his lips a few times and tried to work up some moisture. Based on the drool spot on the pillow, he had been sleeping with his mouth open again. No wonder his mouth was dry.
Wallis had apparently been waiting for him to wake up. Graham had no idea how long that wait might have been, but it was clearly long enough for Wallis to be wide awake and filled with questions. It was a bit weird to think of Wallis sitting there watching him drool and sleep.
Before Graham could think any further on that possibility, Wallis waved his hands dismissively and answered his question, “Fine, fine, I’m fine. So, these guys over in the other silo, they don’t know you’ve been talking to other silos? How can you get away with that? When did that start? How come you didn’t cut their controls on 72 if it was done at the Up-Top? And how did…”
Graham stopped him with a grunt and an outstretched hand then swung his unresponsive, sleeping leg over the side of the couch. It felt strange hitting the floor, almost like it wasn’t really his leg. “Hold on a second, for deep’s sake, and let me wake up. Got any tea made?”
Wallis called him a big baby and shuffled over to heat a pot of water. He wiped a metal teapot down with a dubious looking rag he dug from a pile of stuff on the counter then tossed in some tea that he sniffed first, also not an encouraging sign. He ran some water from the sink over two dirty cups on the counter, but Graham noted that he rinsed them from the non-dosed water he had been provided. Graham yawned hugely and shook his leg, grimacing as the first of the pins and needles started and let him know he still had a working leg after all.
Wallis came back and plopped down in his chair again. He reached out to slap Graham’s knee and asked, “You awake now?”
Graham shivered from the deep yawn but nodded. “What were you asking again? One question at a time, please, unless you want to wait till I get some tea down.”
Wallis scoffed at the idea of waiting, apparently, and gave him a look that clearly conveyed he had no intention of waiting for tea or anything else. He asked, “Okay. So how are you talking with those other silos? How many of the other silos are in on it? Are there really 50 silos? Like, 50 silos all filled with people?”
Graham tried to follow all the questions but they came rapidly and were punctuated with the jerky emphasis created by Wallis’ hands. He always had been a hand talker. Now he was an impatient, curious and possibly over-caffeinated hand talker and it was making Graham dizzy.
“Yes, there are 50 but one of those is Silo One and I don’t think they count. I’ve spoken to several silos over the years, but some of the others are able to communicate with yet others that I can’t talk to and vice versa. I’m not sure why but I don’t think any of them can talk to all the others. At least not in secret, they can’t. I suppose I could talk to any silo I wanted just by ringing them up, but that’s not what you’re talking about, I don’t think. It’s not like I planned any of this secret stuff at all, I just happened to be there to answer when a call came one day.”
Graham shrugged because he really wasn’t at all sure how any of that had happened or who started it. He only knew that one day he had heard the buzz and seen the blinking light that meant Silo 40 was calling him. He had put the jack in, wondering what it might be about, and found himself talking on an altered line so filled with high squeals it had pained him to listen.
“And you never asked how many others are in on this? Are you an idiot?”
Graham bristled at the idea. “Of course, I asked! And we all agreed that we would only know the ones we already knew of or might connect with later. Safer, you know?” Graham stopped talking and pointed at the steam rising from the pot of water behind Wallis.
Wallis hopped up, more energetic than Graham had seen him in a long time, and began to prepare the tea. Seeing Wallis’ thin old man legs, mussed grey hair and bony feet made Graham wonder where the years had gone to. He wondered if he appeared that old when Wallis looked back at him so he looked down at his own legs and feet. Sure enough, they were bony, old man feet too. It was rather disappointing.
Wallis came back, carefully balancing the two cups on a battered metal plate. He stopped and started a few times, causing more to slop out of the cups each time he started walking because he kept looking at the cups. Graham wondered if Wallis had ever been told that you can only carry a full cup without slopping by not looking at it. Finally, he lowered the tray and offered a cup to Graham.