At the next landing, she again touched her hip where her birth control rode under her skin. Such things made more sense in light of silo seventeen. So much about her previous life made sense. Things that had once seemed twisted now had a sort of pattern, a logic about them. The expense of sending a wire, the spacing of the levels, the single and cramped stairway, the bright colors for particular jobs, dividing the silo into sections, breeding mistrust . . . it was all designed. She’d seen hints of this before but never knew why. Now this empty silo told her, the presence of these kids told
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