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of running a nuclear plant. The plant might be automated
but it still required a number of skilled technicians to make sure
that the myriad controls and gauges were monitored and adjusted at
the correct time to ensure the safety of the entire area. He had
tried constantly but had been unable to get the thralls to add to
the small group. The thralls were not stupid and knew how many
technicians it took to run the plant. Atkins could not insist too
strongly in case the thralls found out the truth and condemned all
of them to death. Warren suspected that it had been Atkins’ failure
to find his youngest son that had made him so desperate to save any
others he could in the pens.
He had, therefore, begun to
train those around him as best he could but had continued to pester
the guards to allow him to pick more workers from the pens whenever
he got the opportunity, claiming exhaustion and stress for the
small number of technicians for such a large plant. Atkins could
not argue that the plant needed seven people who actually knew what
they were doing and his persistence had eventually been his
downfall; the thralls had grown tired of him and had thrown him
back in the pens.
Warren had pleaded that Atkins
be allowed to come back but they had refused and he had had to
choose someone else or join him in the pens. Again Warren had had
no idea who to choose. He had been reminded of collecting
foil-wrapped cards he had bought as a child. It was a matter of
picking one and hoping the pack contained the card you wanted. He
had chosen a man he thought he had recognised and then waited
anxiously for a week while the serum was flushed from his system
and he could find out what he had. Unfortunately, the man had
turned out to be a country singer, and one of some note, as it
turned out. That was probably why he had looked familiar. But he
would not add to their knowledge base at all, unless you considered
listening to country music worthwhile.
Now he had a major problem. If
they didn’t get some people who knew what they were doing to manage
the core, then there was a real chance that the whole thing would
blow and kill them all. But he couldn’t tell the thralls that they
had made a mistake in picking the man either - he and his son would
be killed instantly for his deception, as would the other six
‘technicians’ and their families. Whether by blind luck or design,
the plant had continued to run smoothly despite Atkins’ removal,
but these temperature spikes were worrying. They hadn’t happened
while Atkins was at the plant so something had definitely
changed.
He had quietly questioned the
rest of the staff over the last few days and had found nothing to
raise his spirits. They, like him, were all technical to some
extent, just not in any way that would help keep the plant running
safely. Atkins had managed to train some of them in the more menial
tasks and they continued to do these constantly, however, none of
them actually understood what their actions actually did, only that
Atkins had told them that they were necessary to the continued
running of the plant. He watched the temperature needle withdrawing
from the red line as it began to slowly return to normal.
“Thank God,” he muttered and
grimaced at Angela Wallace, who worked the consol beside him.
Angela had been an excellent dietician in her previous life but had
not succeeded in taking in all Atkins had told her, so, while she
continued to press buttons and turn dials in the exact sequence she
had been shown, she wasn’t entirely certain whether the sequence
should ever change to take into account any anomalies such as these
temperature spikes. They all knew that they were sitting on a time
bomb but there was no way any of them were going to admit their
lack of knowledge to the thralls. While they were all aware that
there was a chance the plant might explode, it was a certainty that
they would all die if the thralls discovered their deception.
Besides, it may never