Silo Novels & Stories

"He’s trying to suck the foundation out from under us." The Penthouse: The Master’s Hand In the heights of the Zeitz MOCAA, Silas stood in the centre of a hurricane of violet static. He wasn't holding a glass anymore. His arms were outstretched, his fingers twitching as if he were playing a massive, invisible pipe organ. "Beautiful," Silas whispered, his voice projected through the building’s own internal speakers. "She found the mountain. She found the original blueprint. I should have known she wouldn't be able to resist the allure of the granite."

Silas claimed to have the key to that lock. "The mountain is a living organism, Elara," Silas continued, his hologram flickering as the Palace’s resonance tried to reject his signal. "But it is a primitive one. It follows the laws of Enzymatic Inhibition. I have developed a localized viral agent, a molecular 'scissors' designed to snip the bond between the quartz and the marrow. One command from the Acheron in the harbor, and your sanctuary becomes a pile of inert gravel. You won't just lose the Palace; you’ll lose the ground beneath your children’s feet."

His eyes were no longer human; they were two pits of the Abyss, staring through me as if I were nothing more than a line item in a failing ledger. "You look shocked, Zora," Silas rasped. His voice wasn't a single tone; it was a chorus of a thousand dead souls, a binary scream slowed down into a human crawl. "Did you think the 'Reverse-Siphon' was an exit? In this family, every exit is just a rotating door back into the vault."

A voice shouted codes while others tallied. Elira typed new entries in, then hesitated. "The cereal grain silos—these were part of last year's last field." Caelan looked over, taken aback. "Still valid?" "Still useful. And their protein levels increased during post-harvest conditioning." "That means next cycle's mix could—" "—be stronger, yes." The future isn't always constructed from the new. Sometimes it's grown on what was once barely sufficient—and deciding to keep carrying it along anyway.

"Where is he, Bear?" "Silas took him to the old lumber mill on the north edge of Oakhaven," Bear replied, pointing to a jagged icon on the map. "It’s a fortress. It’s got high ground for snipers and only one way in through the valley. Silas has at least fifty men there. All Iron Disciples. They’re fanatics, Doc. They think Silas is a god returned from the dead." "Then we’ll show them that even gods can bleed," I said.

“Helling Inc. I heard they own a huge company abroad.” “Helling?” Carla rolled the name around the tip of her tongue confused, “Why haven’t I ever heard of it?” Carla asked even more confused. She had modeled for so many companies in the past and the ones she didn’t model for, she had heard of. What was the deal with this company? If it wasn’t for the fact that they had been around here for a while, she would have said it was a fake company. Steve shrugged and said nothing as he drove past the huge meadow and across a valley of sunflowers, “They planted this too?” Carla asked with a frown.

DARIUS’S POV The stone walls of the Sanctuary throbbed like a living thing. Low hum vibrating up through my boots, into my bones. This place wasn’t built for prayer. It was wired for harvest. Silas lingered back in the shadows under the vaulted ceiling, half his face lit by firelight, watching us the way a trader watches his favorite position finally spike to record highs. Smug. Patient. Already counting the profits.

There is a Zen garden with a little stone shrine like a birdbath and feeder surrounded by large smooth stones and a buddha sat in the middle. The traditional house is beautiful. I remove my shoes, and Keomi opens the sliding door and we all step inside. The first thing I see is the simplicity of the house. There are silk kimonos hanging on wooden poles with the sleeves stretched out. Keomi walks through another door and I follow behind her. The furniture is all traditional. The dark black lacquered boxes with white cranes and tigers on them. I walk past a room and stop in my tracks.