First Shift - Legacy (Part 6 of the Silo Series) (Wool) Read Online Free
Author: Hugh Howey
event of an attack or a leak—where facility employees can go. You know, like a shelter. And it needs to be perfect or this project’ll be shut down faster than a tick’s wink. Just because our bill passed and got signed doesn’t mean we’re home-free, Donny. There was that project out west that got okayed decades ago, scored funding. Eventually, it fell through.”
Donald knew the one he was talking about. A containment facility buried under a mountain. The buzz on the Hill was that the Georgia project had the same chances of success. The folder suddenly tripled in weight as he considered this. He was being asked to be a part of this future failure. He would be staking his newly won office on it.
“I’ve got Mick Webb working on something related. Logistics and planning, really. You two will need to collaborate on a few things. And Anna is taking leave from her post at MIT to lend a hand.”
“ Anna ? ” Donald fumbled for his water, his hand shaking.
“Of course. She’ll be your lead engineer on this project. There are details in there on what she’ll need, space-wise.”
Donald took a gulp of water and forced himself to swallow.
“There’s a lot of other people I could call in, sure, but this project can’t fail, you understand? It needs to be like family . People I can trust.” Senator Thurman interlocked his fingers. “If this is the only thing you were elected to do, I want you to do it right. It’s why I stumped for you in the first place.”
“Of course.” Donald bobbed his head to hide his confusion. He had worried during the election that the Senator’s endorsement stemmed from old family ties. This was somehow worse. Donald hadn’t been using the Senator at all; it was the other way around . Studying the drawing in his lap, the newly elected congressman felt one job he was inadequately trained for melt away—only to be replaced by a different job that seemed equally daunting.
“Wait,” he said. “I still don’t get it.” He studied the old drawing. “Why the grow lights?”
Senator Thurman reached for his bottle and polished off his water, the empty plastic crinkling in his fist. He smacked his lips and turned to toss the bottle into a blue recycling bin. His profile, Donald saw, was every bit as chiseled and handsome as the face he presented to the cameras. He had barely changed in all the years Donald had known him.
“Because, Donny—” He turned and smiled. “This building I want you to design for me—it’s going to go below ground.”
2
2110 • Silo 1
Troy held his breath and tried to remain calm while the doctor pumped the rubber bulb. The inflatable band swelled around his bicep until it pinched his skin. He wasn’t sure if slowing his breathing and steadying his pulse affected his blood pressure, but he had a strong urge to impress the man in the white coveralls. He wanted his numbers to come back normal .
His arm throbbed a few beats while the needle bounced and the air hissed out.
“Eighty over fifty.” The band made a ripping sound as it was torn loose. Troy rubbed the spot where his skin had been pinched.
“Is that okay?”
The doctor made a note on his clipboard. “It’s low, but not outside the norm.” Behind him, his assistant labeled a cup of dark gray urine before placing it inside a small fridge. Troy caught sight of a half-eaten sandwich among the samples, not even wrapped.
He looked down at his bare knees sticking out of the blue paper gown. His legs were pale and seemed smaller than he remembered. Bony. He felt the urge to pee but had already gone as much as he could.
“I still can’t make a fist,” he told the doctor, working his fingers in and out.
“That’s perfectly normal. Your strength will return. Look into the light, please.”
Troy followed the bright beam and tried not to blink.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked the
Donald knew the one he was talking about. A containment facility buried under a mountain. The buzz on the Hill was that the Georgia project had the same chances of success. The folder suddenly tripled in weight as he considered this. He was being asked to be a part of this future failure. He would be staking his newly won office on it.
“I’ve got Mick Webb working on something related. Logistics and planning, really. You two will need to collaborate on a few things. And Anna is taking leave from her post at MIT to lend a hand.”
“ Anna ? ” Donald fumbled for his water, his hand shaking.
“Of course. She’ll be your lead engineer on this project. There are details in there on what she’ll need, space-wise.”
Donald took a gulp of water and forced himself to swallow.
“There’s a lot of other people I could call in, sure, but this project can’t fail, you understand? It needs to be like family . People I can trust.” Senator Thurman interlocked his fingers. “If this is the only thing you were elected to do, I want you to do it right. It’s why I stumped for you in the first place.”
“Of course.” Donald bobbed his head to hide his confusion. He had worried during the election that the Senator’s endorsement stemmed from old family ties. This was somehow worse. Donald hadn’t been using the Senator at all; it was the other way around . Studying the drawing in his lap, the newly elected congressman felt one job he was inadequately trained for melt away—only to be replaced by a different job that seemed equally daunting.
“Wait,” he said. “I still don’t get it.” He studied the old drawing. “Why the grow lights?”
Senator Thurman reached for his bottle and polished off his water, the empty plastic crinkling in his fist. He smacked his lips and turned to toss the bottle into a blue recycling bin. His profile, Donald saw, was every bit as chiseled and handsome as the face he presented to the cameras. He had barely changed in all the years Donald had known him.
“Because, Donny—” He turned and smiled. “This building I want you to design for me—it’s going to go below ground.”
2
2110 • Silo 1
Troy held his breath and tried to remain calm while the doctor pumped the rubber bulb. The inflatable band swelled around his bicep until it pinched his skin. He wasn’t sure if slowing his breathing and steadying his pulse affected his blood pressure, but he had a strong urge to impress the man in the white coveralls. He wanted his numbers to come back normal .
His arm throbbed a few beats while the needle bounced and the air hissed out.
“Eighty over fifty.” The band made a ripping sound as it was torn loose. Troy rubbed the spot where his skin had been pinched.
“Is that okay?”
The doctor made a note on his clipboard. “It’s low, but not outside the norm.” Behind him, his assistant labeled a cup of dark gray urine before placing it inside a small fridge. Troy caught sight of a half-eaten sandwich among the samples, not even wrapped.
He looked down at his bare knees sticking out of the blue paper gown. His legs were pale and seemed smaller than he remembered. Bony. He felt the urge to pee but had already gone as much as he could.
“I still can’t make a fist,” he told the doctor, working his fingers in and out.
“That’s perfectly normal. Your strength will return. Look into the light, please.”
Troy followed the bright beam and tried not to blink.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked the
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