his ears as the tech made the connection. He heard a few beeps before the line clicked over. Someone was breathing heavily on the other end. Troy reminded himself that this young man would be far more nervous than he was. After all, he had to answer the questions – Troy simply had to ask them.
He glanced down at the card in his hand, his mind suddenly blank, thankful that he’d been given the thing.
‘Name?’ he asked the young man.
‘Marcus Dent, sir.’
There was a quiet confidence in his young voice, the sound of a chest thrust out with pride. Troy remembered feeling that once, a long time ago. And then he thought of the world Marcus Dent had been born into, a legacy he would only ever know from books.
‘Tell me about your training,’ Troy said, reading the lines. He tried to keep his voice even, deep, full of command, although the computers were designed to do that for him. Saul made a hoop with his finger and thumb, letting him know he was getting good data from the boy’s headset. Troy wondered if his was similarly equipped. Could anyone in that room – or any other room – tell how nervous he was?
‘Well, sir, I shadowed under Deputy Willis before transferring to IT Security. That was a year ago. I’ve been studying the Order for six weeks. I feel ready, sir.’
Shadowing . Troy forgot it was called that. He had meant to bring the latest vocabulary card with him.
‘What is your primary duty to the … silo?’ He had nearly said facility .
‘To maintain the Order, sir.’
‘And what do you protect above all?’
He kept his voice flat. The best readings would come from not imparting too much emotion into the man being measured.
‘Life and Legacy,’ Marcus recited.
Troy had a difficult time seeing the next question. It was obscured by an unexpected blur of tears. His hand trembled. He lowered the shaking card to his side before anyone noticed.
‘And what does it take to protect the things we hold dear?’ he asked. His voice sounded like someone else’s. He ground his teeth together to keep them from chattering. Something was wrong with him. Powerfully wrong.
‘Sacrifice,’ Marcus said, steady as a rock.
Troy blinked rapidly to clear his vision, and Saul held up his hand to let him know he could continue, that the measures were coming through. Now they needed baselines so the biometrics could tease out the boy’s sincerity toward the first questions.
‘Tell me, Marcus, do you have a girlfriend?’
He didn’t know why that was the first thing that came to mind. Maybe it was the envy that other silos didn’t freeze their women, didn’t freeze anyone at all. Nobody in the comm room seemed to react or care. The formal portion of the test was over.
‘Oh, yessir,’ Marcus said, and Troy heard the boy’s breathing change, could imagine his body relaxing. ‘We’ve applied to be married, sir. Just waiting to hear back.’
‘Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait too much longer. What’s her name?’
‘Melanie, sir. She works here in IT.’
‘That’s great.’ Troy wiped at his eyes. The shivers passed. Saul waved his finger in a circle over his head, letting him know he could wrap it up. They had enough.
‘Marcus Dent,’ he said, ‘welcome to Operation Fifty of the World Order.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ The young man’s voice lifted an octave.
There was a pause, then the sound of a deep breath being taken and held.
‘Sir? Is it okay if I ask a question?’
Troy looked to the others. There were shrugs and not much else. He considered the role this young man had just assumed, knew well the sensation of being promoted to new responsibilities, that mix of fear, eagerness and confusion.
‘Sure, son. One question.’ He figured he was in charge. He could make a few rules of his own.
Marcus cleared his throat, and Troy pictured this shadow and his silo head sitting in a distant room together, the master studying his student.
‘I lost my great-grandmother a few
He glanced down at the card in his hand, his mind suddenly blank, thankful that he’d been given the thing.
‘Name?’ he asked the young man.
‘Marcus Dent, sir.’
There was a quiet confidence in his young voice, the sound of a chest thrust out with pride. Troy remembered feeling that once, a long time ago. And then he thought of the world Marcus Dent had been born into, a legacy he would only ever know from books.
‘Tell me about your training,’ Troy said, reading the lines. He tried to keep his voice even, deep, full of command, although the computers were designed to do that for him. Saul made a hoop with his finger and thumb, letting him know he was getting good data from the boy’s headset. Troy wondered if his was similarly equipped. Could anyone in that room – or any other room – tell how nervous he was?
‘Well, sir, I shadowed under Deputy Willis before transferring to IT Security. That was a year ago. I’ve been studying the Order for six weeks. I feel ready, sir.’
Shadowing . Troy forgot it was called that. He had meant to bring the latest vocabulary card with him.
‘What is your primary duty to the … silo?’ He had nearly said facility .
‘To maintain the Order, sir.’
‘And what do you protect above all?’
He kept his voice flat. The best readings would come from not imparting too much emotion into the man being measured.
‘Life and Legacy,’ Marcus recited.
Troy had a difficult time seeing the next question. It was obscured by an unexpected blur of tears. His hand trembled. He lowered the shaking card to his side before anyone noticed.
‘And what does it take to protect the things we hold dear?’ he asked. His voice sounded like someone else’s. He ground his teeth together to keep them from chattering. Something was wrong with him. Powerfully wrong.
‘Sacrifice,’ Marcus said, steady as a rock.
Troy blinked rapidly to clear his vision, and Saul held up his hand to let him know he could continue, that the measures were coming through. Now they needed baselines so the biometrics could tease out the boy’s sincerity toward the first questions.
‘Tell me, Marcus, do you have a girlfriend?’
He didn’t know why that was the first thing that came to mind. Maybe it was the envy that other silos didn’t freeze their women, didn’t freeze anyone at all. Nobody in the comm room seemed to react or care. The formal portion of the test was over.
‘Oh, yessir,’ Marcus said, and Troy heard the boy’s breathing change, could imagine his body relaxing. ‘We’ve applied to be married, sir. Just waiting to hear back.’
‘Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait too much longer. What’s her name?’
‘Melanie, sir. She works here in IT.’
‘That’s great.’ Troy wiped at his eyes. The shivers passed. Saul waved his finger in a circle over his head, letting him know he could wrap it up. They had enough.
‘Marcus Dent,’ he said, ‘welcome to Operation Fifty of the World Order.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ The young man’s voice lifted an octave.
There was a pause, then the sound of a deep breath being taken and held.
‘Sir? Is it okay if I ask a question?’
Troy looked to the others. There were shrugs and not much else. He considered the role this young man had just assumed, knew well the sensation of being promoted to new responsibilities, that mix of fear, eagerness and confusion.
‘Sure, son. One question.’ He figured he was in charge. He could make a few rules of his own.
Marcus cleared his throat, and Troy pictured this shadow and his silo head sitting in a distant room together, the master studying his student.
‘I lost my great-grandmother a few
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