The operator put her name beside the new interval and did not let go of the pencil. Around her, the repaired anchor room smelled of damp stone and hot insulation. Beyond its barrier the storage wall still bore the marks of the pressure breach. The larger part of the settlement’s boundary assembly stood at an angle no one would have chosen in a workshop.
“If I stop early,” she asked, “what happens to the people still in the reservoir?”
Her shift leader pulled a stool closer rather than answering across the room.
“We use the cutoff and ask the backup. If the backup cannot accept, Juno holds the release.”
“And while she holds it?”
“The consumption continues.”
The operator pressed the pencil point into the sheet. “Then it would be because I stopped.”
“No. The reservoir is consuming them now. You didn’t make it, and you aren’t accepting responsibility for every part we can’t replace.”
