Wool by Hugh Howey

just to leave the wing and exit toward the stairs. A man with a wand—a member of IT’s own internal security detail—seemed to have the job of checking everyone who passed through the metal gates. The receptionist on the outside of the gates was deferent enough, however, and seemed pleased to have the mayor for a visit. She expressed her condolences for the recent cleaning, an odd thing to say but something Jahns wished she heard more often. They were shown to a small conference room attached to the main foyer, a place, she supposed, for meeting with various departments without putting them through the hassle of passing through security.
    “Look at all this space,” Marnes whispered once they were alone in the room together. “Did you see the size of that entrance hall?”
    Jahns nodded. She looked around the ceiling and walls for some peephole, something to confirm the creepy sensation that she was being watched. She set her bag and walking stick down and collapsed wearily into one of the plush chairs. When it moved, she realized the thing was on wheels. Nicely oiled wheels.
    “Always wanted to check this place out,” Marnes said. He peered through the glass window that looked back into the wide foyer. “Every time I’ve passed this place—and it’s only been a dozen times or so—I’ve been curious to see what’s inside.”
    Jahns nearly asked him to stop talking but worried that it would hurt his feelings.
    “Boy, he’s coming in a hurry. Must be because of you.”
    Jahns turned and looked out the window to see Bernard Holland heading their way. He disappeared from view as he approached the door, the handle flicked down, and the small man whose job it was to keep IT running smoothly strode into the room.
    “Mayor.”
    Bernard was all teeth, the front ones crooked. He had a wispy mustache that hung down in a weak attempt to hide this flaw. Short, portly, and with a pair of glasses perched on his small nose, he looked every bit the technical expert. Above all, to Jahns at least, he looked smart .
    He reached for Jahns’s hand as she rose from the chair, the blasted thing nearly scooting out from underneath her as she pressed down on the armrests.
    “Careful,” Bernard said, grabbing her elbow to steady her. “Deputy.” He nodded toward Marnes while Jahns regained her balance. “It’s an honor to have you down. I know you don’t take these trips often.”
    “Thanks for seeing us on short notice,” Jahns said.
    “Of course. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He swept his hand over the lacquered conference table. It was nicer than the one in the mayor’s office, though Jahns assuaged herself by assuming it was shiny from being less frequently employed. She sat in the chair warily, then reached into her bag and produced the set of files.
    “Straight to business, as always,” Bernard said, sitting beside her. He pushed his small round spectacles up his nose and glided forward on the chair until his plump belly met the desk. “Always appreciated that about you. We are, as you can imagine with yesterday’s unfortunate events, as busy as ever. Lots of data to go through.”
    “How’s that going?” Jahns asked while she arranged the material in front of her.
    “Some positives and negatives, as always. Readouts from some of the seal sensors showed improvement. Atmospheric levels of eight of the known toxins have declined, though not by much. Two have risen. Most have remained unchanged.” He waved his hand. “It’s a lot of boring technical stuff, but it’ll all be in my report. I should have it ported up before you get back to your office.”
    “That’ll be fine,” Jahns said. She wanted to say something else, to acknowledge his department’s hard work, to let him know that another cleaning had been successful, God knew why. But it was Holston out there, the closest thing she’d ever had to a shadow, the only man she’d ever seen running for her office when she was dead and feeding