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The point of the silo was for the people to keep the machines running, when Jahns had always, her entire long life, seen it the other way around.
He was an easy man to figure, one of those who had grown old everywhere but in his heart,
they didn’t want people talking. Thinking was fine; they would bury you with your thoughts. But no collaboration, no groups coordinating together, no exchange of ideas.
Perhaps, with enough time in these walls, one could become resigned to things never getting better, or even changing all that much. Or maybe a person eventually lost hope that there was anything worth preserving at all.
