By Jenny S.
Life was bored, life was conditioned, life was prearranged and meaningless for the commoners. That was what Shon had come to believe. No matter how much he excelled in the first half of his life, life had laid a splendid bomb on his head.
During January, he checked his mailbox for the letter almost every morning, and once more during dusk. It was his only sparkle of hope, an account for the years he’d wasted on education while others of his age had long moved on. He had done it at last. He had risked everything he’d got. His savings for the past four years, running between different jobs around the rural, being shunned and ridiculed by uneducated workers because his skinny arms simply can’t lift more than a bag of flours that weighed like a ton. Apparently, four years of labor still proved to be a far cry from the entrance fee for the test. That damned research license in Uranus where he could get his hands on a beaker without a chipped edge or a substance that was older than his great grandfather. He could get a lab of his own, he could change his life, he could become an Uranian. He didn’t quite agree to the saying around town that he had been a hobo for one year. No, not at all. He had simply spent the year at home to prepare. That was his metamorphosis. The one test that decides whether his life could be altered once and for all. It for the better, and it definitely was forever.
In the medical books he learned, they said humans are forgetful creatures who decided to exterminate traumatic moments that are unacceptable by their mind. That explained why Shon couldn’t remember whether he received the envelop during morning or dusk, but it didn’t contemplate why the dreadful moment when he saw what was inside of the envelop had become so vivid that it had engraved itself into nightmares during his unrestful sleeps.
To Mister Shon Brimmer,
We are terribly sorry to inform you that you have not meet the requirements of the Uranus Researcher’s License. Please understand that the amount of this license is extremely limited and opens only to the best minds. Despite your excelling performance during our examination, it is noted that the best equipment of our nation opens only to the best of men. It is not your fault that resources are extremely limited.
Sincerely,
Uranus Competent Science Department
Just like that, and his dream of Uranus is over.
Shon’s legs wobbled before he fell against the pavement. He wished that was the end of it. His world had crumbled. Any fantasy of a utopia as a member of the urban was gone with the wind. Like the death of his metamorphosis, he had made a fool of himself. The lapse of one workless year became the source of cruel remarks, it was a stain in his life, a part of him he’d gladly gave back to God.
When the numbness of the shock subsided eventually, Shon curled on the scratchy cement and sobbed, clutching the letter that was now a shriveled piece of junk.
Seventy thousand.
Seventy-fucking-thousand simply for the entrance fee? He must be out of his god damned mind to think he could ever compete with those rich bastards at the Uranus.
“GOD DAMN IT!” He cried out in agony, “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” his breath hitched and his words came out as an incoherent whimper.
It was the biggest mistake he made. He had put too much into the game and now he is getting nothing out again. Seventy thousand. He thought, if only I can make that much shit out in four fucking years.
The suicidal days and nights running between labors had earned him exactly twenty-four thousand. That was the first mistake he made: he had lost patience. But perhaps it was also inevitable. The average of four hours of sleep per day would most likely kill him first before he ever made the sum. Not to mention, the entrance limits only to members under age thirty, eliminating any possible path for him to make the sum. According to his average income, Shon would be a solid thirty-one-year old if he hadn’t died of a heart attack already.
He balled his fists, his nails cutting into his palms and for once Shon did not care about the pain, and he screamed—with the twenty-four thousand in hand, he had borrowed the remaining fifty.
He should blame his pride. He wanted to blame the mock tests too. He had surpassed every one of them with so much ease that they boosted his confidence, to the point in which he was blinded by his success. As he had realized, the first half of his life was indeed excelling. But ‘excelling’ had dropped dead right there.
He did not get the license.
Against his initial denial, he wasn’t expecting that.
No proper banks would lend money to a young fool with no guaranteed fortune except his headful of empty dreams and promises for the future. Every place he had went, every association in Uranus and beyond he had sought, he was turned down by every one of them. Now he wasn’t even sure if it was luck or a mere pile of shit, but fortune would not turn away its pursuers, it merely costs a higher price that comes with a greater risk—and Shon let it drag him into the pit.
His creditor was a queer man. Strange in a way that Shon had never gotten to know who he was, for he never showed up in person and had chosen to communicate through letters instead.
The more he thought about it, the more desperate Shon grew. It was simply too strange. It wasn’t even him who went for the loan—It was the man himself that reached out to him.
-*-
The first letter arrived in his mailbox the night after Shon received his final refusal from a commoner bank. He was humiliated, his pride thrown against the dirt as people began to see him as the freak who had gone out of his mind just because he was someone who did not wish to live his whole life as a second-rate citizen. Anyone but his parents perhaps.
Well screw them, he thought, fuck those bastards. At least I tried. At least twenty-four thousand is enough to thrive for a while.
He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter, blue eyes scanning through the lines, and his heart almost stopped.
“Fifty thousand.” He read out loud. “Fifty thousand…” words faltered as his mind contemplated the sentence. The rows of shack apartments seemed to have molten away, along with them the dark sky and the stars.
It was just Shon and his letter in their rectangular world.
To Mister Shon Brimmer:
It has been noticed that you are in dire need of financial support. I hereby offer you fifty thousand in loan for your entrance fee. I do not expect a debt in the form of money. If your goal is achieved, I will not ask much of a penny from you in return, consider this my investment on a talented scholar. However, if you have unfortunately flunked the examination, I do seek a mandatory task from you in return for the loan I offered.
When you decide to take my money, go to the Uranian bank before it closes at seven p.m. tomorrow and tell them my alias (that is below ‘Sincerely’).
Sincerely,
Mr. Valdane
-*-
Now only the stars could remember the carefree Shon Brimmer.
He pinched his nose and looked up at the sky. The stars blinked and twinkled in boisterous amusement back at him. Shon squinted his eyes beneath the sand goggles, and he thought he could barely make out little Shon anymore, only a year younger than he was, singing and swaying next to Orion while draining away the sweetest essence of Aquarius, and maybe (just maybe) holding Vigo in his arm as he dreamed of his grand palace at the center of Uranus.
The sky, he thought, I’d always wanted to see it someday.
Space…Just Empty Space
Of course, that was impossible. The past legacy of spacemen, astronauts were well behind the New Testament. It was a pain no one, Uranians nor Commoners, wish to bring up.
He glanced behind and saw the shack where his parents lived. The dull yellow light still shining weakly through the windows, he could still make out his father’s silhouette moving in the kitchen, and somewhere outside right now, his mother was knocking the front door of the Elshers, trading his father’s collections with the finest tapestries in the world and a good fine cabbage that could made up for several days of their meals. He snapped away and forced himself to detach, walking along the road that would lead him to his creditor (doom) at last.
For the past two months he dreadfully expected letters from the mysterious Mr. Valdane. He had been checking the mailbox more often than he liked, and each time he opened the lid to find advertisements or nothing at all, he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or devastated.
One last turn around the corner, the familiar scene of his apartment slid into view. Shon shivered despite the heat, and as he walked closer to the cement apartment, he saw that someone was already waiting.
The man was standing in the shadows; his face masked in deep shades of black. His ears picked up the soft thuds of Shon’s footsteps, and he opened his mouth to speak.
“Shon Brimmer?”
The hair on his neck stood up. In a split moment Shon had the faintest impression to simply turn away saying: Nope, not me. Don’t know a thing you’re talkin ‘bout.
He did none of that.
He took a long breath and approached the man, “You are Mr. Valdane?”
“No,” he said, “He’s not coming tonight, and I assume you read the letter already?”
“I-I did.” Shon bit his lip. The embarrassment began to bubble up again, this time mixed with the silent fear that lingered in the air.
Despite the matching white robes they wore, Shon could not recognize the man from anywhere. His bronze hair upon close distance resembled the diminished moon hanging among the stars. Though his eyes were hidden behind the khaki sand goggle, it wasn’t not hard to tell that the stranger was young and quite a looker.
“Talk all you want when we start walking. There is something planned for us tonight. Mr. Valdane had heard all about your misfortune, and sadly, you still owe him a favor.
A tremor shot through Shon like he was struck by a viper, and the blood withered away from his face. His voice came out cracked and tremorous. He cleared his voice and felt desperate like a cornered hen, “I will, just give me some time, I-I swear I can-”
“Oh God. What is it with the face?” the man startled Shon with a clap on the back. He might be smiling, but the sand goggles that shaded his eyes made it impossible to tell. “Come on, he merely wishes you to attend a meeting. A simple demonstration to our group and it’s all done.”
Shon scowled, “A demonstration?” he began to draw distance, but the man caught his shoulder and swiftly pulled him back.
“Yes, a demonstration.” The man nodded, “Lecture, curriculum…class. It’s just what it is.” He paused a while.
Shon was shaking. He had never believed the term ‘shaking like a leaf’ was so real until then. They were talking about fifty thousand, weren’t they? FIFTY THOUSAND in loan and all they want him to do is just attending a ‘class’? Surely there had to be a catch! No man in their right mind would loan fifty thousand with the sole expectance for him to attend one single demonstration.
“What kind of class costs fifty thousand?” Shon shook off the hand on his shoulder wearily. “Don’t you dare play tricks on me!” he felt his muscles tighten, and he sized up the man, now as a possible opponent, and speculated the possibility of an escape if he could get pass.
“Doesn’t change a thing if you know. It’s not like you’ve got a choice.” The man shrugged half-heartedly, seemingly unaware or unbothered by Shon’s tense posture, “Come on, it’s not a far walk. There’s no danger, I promise you that.”
“Will the Mr. Valdane be there?” the demand came out in a lash in order to wrap the fear within. Shon wouldn’t submit so far, at least he thought he hadn’t submitted.
“No.” the voice answered.
Shon shivered, the hot air suddenly felt cooler, and the wind started blowing from all the wrong directions. He found his heart beating loudly against his ribcage, his mind swirling. He considered the possibility of running away or attack the messenger when he is not looking. Screw it! He is a head taller and with a much better built.
Shon balled his fists and tried to still his thoughts. If it’s just one demonstration, what harm does it make?
But what if it’s a trick? What if he never comes out of that demonstration again? Despite the man’s reassurance that there would no harm, Shon doubted him.
_*_
As the first crunch of sand bellowed against the torrent around them, the wind died down. Shon was forced to decide in that split second, and he quickly picked up behind the man. He had taken a risk. Again.
“You are a lucky man, Shon. Most of his debts don’t get off this easy.”
Shon was silent. The man was slightly ahead while he walked behind. The rows of empty shacks were still and unmoving within the gaunt night. Streetlights buzzed and shimmered in the background as their footsteps echoed through the empty aisles. A crow chirped overhead and flapped its wings loudly before soaring off, dropping the nightmare upon children asleep under the horde of roofs.
They made some turns and occasionally entering aisles only the locals would use. The man never hesitated between the perplexed crossroads, they kept walking, Shon trailing behind the man, until they were in front of a red bricked building. At this point, the aisles had all been left behind with the shacks. Layers upon layers of abandoned wilderness stretched beyond the plain.
The man approached the fence and began unfastening the wires around the gates, “I heard this used to be a flourmill, any idea?” he asked nonchalantly, not even bothered to look up, as if they were just two workers on a day job.
Shon shook his head.
The man tossed aside the strip of wire and opened the rusted fence. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he continued “OH, well…I thought this isn’t a far walk from where you live.”
Shon gritted his teeth, the shame of his failure flooding back again. He did grow up there, alright, except he had been so engrossed with the redundant studies when he’s older and had never bothered to explore the rural shithole like other kids as a boy. He had to suppress the urge to scream. By squeezing his way among the noble Uranians, he had successfully isolated himself from his hometown and had made a complete joke out of his life. So yes, in that way the location of an abandoned flourmill might actually become the least important thing in his life.
The man looked up at Shon, his head crooked in quiet observation.
“Sorry.”
For the second time that night, Shon was startled. “About what?”
“I didn’t mean to bring that up.” The man smiled apologetically, “You know what I mean.”
Shon didn’t have a clue what he meant. Yet his palm wetted. It doesn’t feel right that the stranger before him is simply a messenger. But if there were more involved other than the Mr. Valdane alone, could it be that he had been pulled into a deeper torrent than he had known?
The man looked down at his watch and muttered a curse, “We need to hurry. It’s almost time.”
He broke into a run, leaving Shon stunned before following suit. The man darting ahead while Shon struggled to keep up. Their silhouettes flipping through dried bushes, white robes snagging on the broken branches as they ran to the backside of the mill.
A wooden door that almost resembled a pub with the small piece of sliding metal at eye level was the only entrance at the back. The man knocked in a rhythmed string, and the small metal slipped open, revealing a pair of translucent eyes staring back at them.
Shon strained a yelp and stumbled back, but the man caught his wrist and steadied him.
The eyes behind the door scanned over the two men. Quickly, the metal slid close. A rattle of locks clicked inside, then the door swung open. The man stepped in with big strides. Shon who was still standing frozen, was yanked into the mill a split second later, and the door slammed shut behind him.
_*_
The interior of the mill was rearranged into a base. The stacks of maps laying scattered on the tables displayed a variety of landmarks. Shon was able to recognize some that showed the Uranian rural, but most of them displayed the urban itself, and that reached the end of his understanding. At the corners of the mill, Newspapers were bundled into neat squares and fastened by twines. There were many news titles that were underlined or bolded, but it was impossible to comprehend them while walking
“Welcome to the meeting of Wings. Everything is going to change, Shon, the world you are living, the lives you know, everything.”
Shon nodded despite knowing nothing.
The man snorted a laugh, “Just have patience.”
They stopped before one of the long tables people might expect from an assembly line, possibly left behind when the mill workers moved out.
“It’s all we’ve got these days, but this is only temporary. A public factory is the least place we wanted.” The man sighed. He reached up to strip off his sand goggles, and Shon followed suit. Then the man said something else, but all the while Shon’s ears had been ringing that he completely missed out until the man was already finished.
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t following the last part. What was that again?”
The lashes twitched around the man’s grey eyes, they were almost mismatching to his pleasant aura, a minor flaw to his perfection.
“That’s alright.” The skin around his eyes wrinkled, and the man extended a hand. “Was nothing important.”
Shon shook it.
“Lawrence, they call me Law.”
“Shon Brimmer.”
Law chuckled, “Never knew before.”
-*-
It wasn’t long before people started to take seats around the table.
Standing at the far end was Law, behind him was a blackboard looking like it was dragged from one of the old commoner classrooms.
“Thank you very much,” Law said, taking a slight bow, his voice carried easily across the entire hall. “As you have been informed, today is all about our new friend, Shon Brimmer, who, unfortunately, was mandatory to attend this meeting. Or to him, I would call this an enlightment. Perhaps by the end of this meeting we can turn this unfortune into an opportunity.”
A drumroll of applause rolled over the hall. It was under the contrast of this boisterous moment that made Shon realize just how grand and lifeless the mill would have been if not for the group of people gathered in it. The remanence of Law’s words echoed from wall to wall, and the pairs of eyes that searched from face to face until all of them were locked on Shon. He gulped, his hands clasping tightly beneath the table as he looked up helplessly for any kind of event to draw the attention away.
“Mr. Brimmer here was a talented man. I wouldn’t be the least bit exaggerating if I say he would have been a great scholar if not for his commoner birth.” Law said. He made a slow walk pacing down the row in front of Shon. There might have been over twenty people at that side, but Shon couldn’t tell under the poot lamps lighting the space.
“He was a dreamer, like all of us. We all have a dream, only once upon a time. Could that possibly be before you entered primary school? Or perhaps before your father showed you to the workshop where your family had been crafting metal knobs since the first New Testament? Am I right, Malvin?”
A red headed man nodded feverishly at the mention of his name. “Damn it your right.” He muttered. It was a while later that Shon realized the red headed man, Malvin, was not red headed at all. It must had been a trick of the light that night, so he was told.
Law chuckled, though it could have been easily mistaken as a strained sob (and there was no way to blame the lights this time). He waved a hand in the air and the point of the finger landed right at Shon like the needle on a compass. “You, Shon. I can tell you are a good-hearted man. A creditor like the Mr. Valdane himself couldn’t beg for a better client.”
Shon stared at him in confusion. “Me?” he glanced at the woman on his left, but she wasn’t even looking at his direction. Shon followed her gaze, and his eyes were locked with Law once more. There was a sharp twist in his stomach, like something had just snapped.
“You didn’t run away with all that loan you owed!” Law brushed a hand over his hair, combing back the loose strands that had fallen over his forehead. He cleared his voice once more, and the conversations were cut short, “Very well. Let’s discuss the matters on the table.” He shrugged at his audience.
“Turn off the lights.”
Several hands reached out for the lamps, and a second later the mill plummeted into total darkness. Shon blinked several times, trying to adjust the dark, but the beam of light hitting the blackboard behind Law had illuminated the world at a square.
Then Law asked Shon if he could see the words on the board, but Shon was too shocked by the graphic that had spun out of the beam of light coming out from the small box that he had forgotten to answer Law’s question.
“Come over, Shon. Here, sit at the front.” This time it was much easier to see the gleeful grin on his face. With the light that magnified every motion of Law’s expressions, Shon could no longer tell if he was doing it on purpose to mess with his nerves.
Slowly, Shon stood from his chair. He tried pushing it into the table, but the chair squealed so horribly against the pavement that he had to pick it up and shelve it. There was no path longer than his journey to Law’s side of the table. What could it be? Twenty meters? Maybe longer? Thirty? But it felt like he was walking toward his own grave at that point. A while later maybe his head would be severed form his body as the room of people charged him with knives like the way Romans murdered their Caesar (it was one of the few histories saved from the Old Testament. Hell, it might be the only one).
A hand was clasped on his shoulder, and Shon almost jumped.
“Relax.” Law offered a reassuring smile, “You’re good.” He let go of Shon’s shoulder and bent down to adjust the small box that was shooting out the beam of light.
“How do you…how does that thing—”
“This is a projector. Comes in handy when I’m recruiting new members.” With a final tap, the projector shoots out a blinding light that hit Shon right in the face.
“Ow!” he shut his eyes and turned his back against the dangerous machine. His’s body hit the blackboard with a loud bang, but before he could knock the entire thing down in his state of terror, a pair of hands hold him back with firm pressure. Then he was eased into a chair, his hands still shaking as his rear touched the solid seat.
“It’s alright, Shon, it’s just normal light.” Came Law’s voice right in front of him. “It won’t harm you. Open your eyes”
Shon could feel the stimulated tears prickling his eyes, but he opened them under Law’s instructions. The first thing he saw was the man’s face looking back at him. Embarrassment burned his cheeks. He had acted like a fool in front of these strangers…How in the world can they act so calm about that box? The projector, Law had called it. Never had once in his life did Shon even came across anything close to that thing. It was like magic. Had these kinds of inventions always been used by the humans? If so, why hadn’t he even heard once about it? Maybe he should ask Law next time. If there even is a next time.
“You're not going to freak out again when I switch the slides, are you?” when Shon shook his head, Law smiled. He stood up and went to the projector. He fondled over the machine for a while, then another beam of light hit the board. This time, Shon could see the image of a chart.
“What you are seeing here, Shon, is the admission rate of the Researcher’s License in Uranus. The one you were applying. This one here that I’m pointing, the 23%, do you see? That was ideally, the admission rate for Uranian applicants. And by that I don’t have to make it clearer, refers to the ones in urban. I know, people might say Uranian includes those like us in the rural too, and technically, we are.” The man paused long enough to let the matter sank in. A heartbeat later, waves of disapproving murmurs began passing through the long table.
This man is no better at teaching than I am. Shon eyed the blonde man suspiciously, but the confident smile remained on his sculptured features. He almost felt sorry for Law, trying to remain that posture in front of a booming crowd must had been difficult. It’s only a matter of time before somebody might boom that poor man down.
“We are no Uranians!” at the very back of the room, a man cried out.
A woman soon joined him, “Those beastly Uranians are none of us.”
Law tapped on the table, and the discussions was soon lost in the rhythmed beats of his consistent taps.
“Don’t you get it?” His voice was quiet, yet they heard him all the same, “Uranians were meant to be all citizens living in the nation of Uranus. All of us—not just some urban nobles living in their city manors.”
The crowd stirred uncomfortably. Then from the back, a voice muttered an apology.
“The thing is, spanning over almost a decade from now, the percentage of commoners who received this license so far had been….” Law extended his palm and counted with his fingers, “I think there’s one at the rural department and that’s it.”
He paused. The room deprived of a response.
“You see, Shon, there aren’t many others who were blissed with such enlightened mind like yours, but that doesn’t explain why almost none of the rural Uranians get to receive the license. For years since the creation of Uranus there has always been one major loop in this system—”
“The fee.” Shon said.
Law raised an eyebrow, “Why yes. You are absolutely correct. The problem lies there. Just the entrance fee alone costs seventy thousand! Can you imagine? Seventy thousand!” He scanned over the crowd, who murmured in low agreement.
Law motioned toward a man seated somewhere in the middle rank of the table, “Jonathon, how much do you make one year?”
“Maybe one thousand, two if the crops are splendid.” Jonathon replied from the middle.
“And Betty?”
“None. Our family are farmers, we mostly just grow our own food.” A thin woman replied couple heads away from Shon.
Law nodded in modest consideration, one fist rested against his lips, then with a tap on Shon’s shoulder, he asked. “How much did you have minus the loan?”
Shon blinked in absent surprise, and he blurted out before he could stop himself, “Twenty-four thousand.”
Sharp gasps ranged throughout the hall as commoners fell into sharp discussions.
“How did he do it?”
“Twenty-four thousand in four years!”
A man in front of Shon shot from his seat, his bolded scalp shining under the light stream of the projector, his hands that gripped the table edge were trembling, “How old are you, boy?”
Shon squirmed in his seat; the sudden eruption of attention knocked him completely off guard. He looked at Law for help, but the man simply mouthed: Tell them.
Shakily, he took a deep breath and glanced around the room. Every face of another stranger, every pair of eyes looking at him. This was a lecture, after all. Shon parted his lips, but the words simply failed him completely at this point, and he shook his head.
Law patted his shoulder in quiet comfort, “It’s alright, we understand if you don’t feel like talking about it.” He withdrew his hand and went back to the projector, bending his back as his nimble hands fumbled with the buttons. The projector buzzed, and the slide switched again, this time showing a different slide with more numbers.
“Most commoners make an average of five to fifteen hundred annually.” Law rose to his feet and turned to the projection, “Of course, if it was in Uranus—that is the urban—every one of us here would have starved to death under a week at most.” He concluded as the crowd nodded in silent agreement, “But not here in the rural, where people have private lands. Maybe not as grand as the ranch owners in Uranus, but enough to support self-sustainable farming.” Law looked at Shon, “I believe you learned about that in school.”
“In middle school. Yes.”
“Splendid.” Law clapped his hands, the noise starkly reverberating against the dumb walls. “Took me long enough to explain what that was to my fellows here once.” He grinned sheepishly. “Couldn’t blame them for trying to live. Not every family supports their child to pursue education here.”
Shon was offended. If this was under a different circumstance, he would even find the guts to object, but not that night—not without knowing what these people were up to with the lecture.
“I’m not trying to make things difficult here,” Law raised his hands in the air, his grey eyes searing into Shon, “It’s just the truth, and it wasn’t our fault—It’s theirs.”
The projector let out a small ticking buzz. The light beam shooting out from its glassy eye wavered subtly, and with a tick—louder this time—the light began to blink.
“Damn it. Not again.” The blinking became more rapid, and through the clips of light, Law was at the projector again, cursing under his breath as he gave the metal one final slap on the top.
That was all it took.
Without the illumination of the projector, the pale moon spilled over the broken windows from the highest of the mill, coating the interior with an eerie substance. Shon glanced around his shoulders, making out dark silhouettes as his eyes regained some focus in the dark.
“Is it working?” Law asked, holding a miniature flashlight between his fingers.
“No, boss. The pipe just broke.” Said the man crouching over the projector. He wipes his brows with the sleeve of his shirt, “The copper pipe, and we can’t afford another one even with all our money summing up. You need me melting it down for you? Make a watch for your dad?”
“It’s fine. I will just take it home. Thanks anyway, Malvin.”
The projector didn’t project another image that night. Maybe never again.
“Alright. Lights on, everyone.” Law turned off the flashlight, and the world was in black again.
Shon saw the shape of a lamp placed in front of him, but when he reached out to grasp it, a warm sweaty thing touched the back of his hand, making him withdraw instantly. A second later, the lamp was turned on, revealing Law’s face.
“Scared you?” he was doing that irritating grin again.
“No, and your hands are sweaty.” Shon muttered as he wiped the remnants of the contact on his robes.
Law shrugged and placed the lamp back on the table. They waited as more orange lamps were illuminated. When the last one was returned, Law cleared his throat, “The meeting will now continue without the projection.” He tapped his temple, “I got it all memorized, and honestly, the slides were redundant anyway if it wasn’t for Mr. Valdane.”
Shon’s heart sank at the mention of his creditor. At this point he didn’t even have the heart to know who that man was. The dramas in one night were quite enough for anyone, really, and Mr. Valdane had simply dragged Shon back into the brutal reality he was facing at this point.
“Have you even dared to doubt the reason behind why they didn’t give you that license? Just even a little bit?” Law grabbed Shon by the shoulders and turned his seat to face him, “Oh, C’mon Shon! We know you—Mr. Valdane knows everything about you! Every test you took ever since primary school and the mock tests for the researcher’s license. They were perfect Shon! Not just good, PERFECT!”
His heartbeat pounded furiously beneath Law’s tightening grip, his breaths coming out in rapid hisses as the knowledge flooded his skull. His heart split into so many replicas of it that rang and rang and rang inside his empty shell.
“Perfect?” he whispered, “I was…perfect?”
“No, Shon,” Law bit his lips and shook his head furiously, “You are still perfect, but the Uranians, they cheated you out of it!” He gave Shon’s shoulder one last squeeze before letting them go. “I hope you can see the true intention behind Mr. Valdane’s loan. He was trying to show you the truth—no matter how much time you reenter that examination, you will never get that license. You know why?”
Shon was quiet, his eyes staring vaguely at Law as the man took a seat himself.
“They wanted to keep the us in the rural.”
Law clapped his hands dryly, “Bravo.” He said, “The more stupid we are, the easier it becomes for them. That’s why.”
They all sat in the drowning silence.
“Well, that’s all I’ve got to say tonight.” Law stood from his chair and walked in front of Shon, “And I’m going to make things clear now. We want you to join us, Shon Brimmer. If there is anyone who can stand against the Uranians, it’s people like you.”
A million thoughts flew past Shon’s mind, he stared up in mortification. “You want me to fight the Uranians?”
“You are not alone. we have more, they simply didn’t made it tonight-”
“And what? Fight them hands on with swords and spears while they blew us to bits with rifles?” With a sharp creak, Shon’s chair was pushed back as he stood abruptly. “That wasn’t part of the negotiation! I was only required to attend this freak show, not to join some hopeless underground rebellion!” he scanned helplessly around the room, “I don’t want to die…I will just pretend like this never happened, just let me go.”
For a while, Shon thought the man was going to turn him down.
“Fine.” Law said in a quiet voice. The room was silent, but the gaze from the others were insufferable.
“You are right. It wasn’t part of the contract. You are free to go now. Live as you like, so long you don’t ever speak of this night to anyone. Or Mr. Valdane will send people for you specifically, and by them—” his pale eyes flashing, “You won’t be so lucky.”
Rows of luminous eyes clung to him as he strode past the table. Shon forgot how long the walk from his seat to the exiting door had taken, but by the time he walked back home and crashed on his bedroom, the early smear of orange was already sneaking up the sky.
The next day passed in a blur. He remembered going back to the dreadful mill again at the evening, but aside from the long table collecting dust at the corner, the house was completely empty.
It was abandoned.
To be continued…