As Holston ascended the last few levels, this last climb he would ever take, the sounds of childlike delight rained down even louder from above. What was now used as a thoroughfare for thousands of people, moving up and down in repetitious daily cycles, seemed more apt in Holston’s view to be used only in emergencies and perhaps by mere dozens.Īnother floor went by-a pie-shaped division of dormitories. Like much of their cylindrical home, it seemed to have been made for other purposes, for functions long since forgotten. The tight confines of that long spiral, threading through the buried silo like a straw in a glass, had not been built for such abuse. And he thought, not for the first time, that neither life nor staircase had been meant for such an existence. He lost himself in what the untold years had done, the ablation of molecules and lives, layers and layers ground to fine dust.
Holston lifted an old boot to an old step, pressed down, and did it again. Their absence could only be inferred from the pattern to either side, the small pyramidal bumps rising from the flat steel with their crisp edges and flecks of paint. In the center, there was almost no trace of the small diamonds that once gave the treads their grip. Each life might wear away a single layer, even as the silo wore away that life.Įach step was slightly bowed from generations of traffic, the edge rounded down like a pouting lip. That always amazed him: how centuries of bare palms and shuffling feet could wear down solid steel. Holston could feel the vibrations in the railing, which was worn down to the gleaming metal. Traffic elsewhere on the staircase sent dust shivering off in small clouds. Paint clung to them in feeble chips, mostly in the corners and undersides, where they were safe. The treads, like his father’s boots, showed signs of wear. While they thundered about frantically above, Holston took his time, each step methodical and ponderous, as he wound his way around and around the spiral staircase, old boots ringing out on metal treads. The children were playing while Holston climbed to his death he could hear them squealing as only happy children do. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.Ĭover design and illustration © 2020 by The Heads of State For those who dare to hope. Q&A with the author and essays copyright © 2020 by Hugh Howey
Original essay Slaying Dragons © 2020 by Hugh Howeyįor information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.Ĭover design and illustration © 2020 by The Heads of State Q&A with the author and essay copyright © 2020 by Hugh Howey What-and who-will rise? Read moreĬompilation copyright © 2020 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. What happens when a world built on rules is handed over to someone who sees no need for them? And what happens when a world broken to its core comes up against someone who won’t stop until things are set to right? Juliette, a mechanic from the down deep, who never met a machine she couldn’t fix nor a rule she wouldn’t break. When the sheriff of the silo commits the ultimate sin, the most unlikely of heroes takes his place. And no rule is more strictly enforced than to never speak of going outside. In this subterranean world, rules matter. The remnants of humanity live underground in a vast silo. For the first time ever, The Silo Saga Omnibus brings together all of the work in Hugh Howey's ground-breaking, best-selling, acclaimed series, including the individual novels Wool, Shift, and Dust, as well as original essays by the author, and a bonus chapbook of short fiction, Silo Stories
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