Dust (Silo, #3)

by Hugh Howey

Heroes didn’t win. The heroes were whoever happened to win. History told their story – the dead didn’t say a word. All of it was bullshit.

“Maybe the kinds of people who try to shape the world feel like they’re smarter than chaos itself.”

The guard there watched him approach, eyebrows up with mild curiosity. Here was everything wrong with everything, Donald thought. Here was a guard not recognizing a murderer because he toted a bomb. Here was a man swiping an ID with Darcy’s name on it, a green light, and the ennui of an interminable job as he was waved through the gates. Here was everyone seeing what was coming and ushering hell right along anyway.