He was in the industrial district where life was already boiling, like a steam generator full of fire crystals. Around him, a huge crowd of people were running to work. All in dark or gray clothing, some in coats, some in vests and trousers. All dusty, dirty, sweaty, hiding their faces under the visors of their hats. And Egon wiped the perspiration from his brow and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with moist air.

On the right and left sides of the street were two-story residential brick houses with long pipes that let off steam. The windows are covered with dark curtains, the front doors are all covered with different inscriptions or covered with recruitment ads to attract new people to the manufactory or to the local bar or laundry shop. Horse-drawn carts sometimes passed along the road, or, more often, rickshaws pulled by the shafts of young men. On top of the houses, massive bridges were erected with a railway for freight locomotives. And in the distance, the huge chimneys of factories and mills could be seen on the horizon. And Egon paused for a moment and thought that the chimneys were somewhat like the spires of the local temples. Then he felt in the pockets of his ragged jacket and realized that he had forgotten to bring his work pass.

He reached the end of the street, turned right and walked along the railway. He moved forward with his head down. His feet were constantly hitting the sides of the poorly laid brick tiles, which had lost its former color and turned the color of dirt. Steam trams passed by, beeping every minute to attract the attention of the half-asleep inhabitants of the district and scare them off the rails.

A local boy no older than ten ran up to Egon and asked for change and a cigarette. He fumbled in his pockets and handed over everything he had. He patted the guy on the head and asked: "Anything interesting on streets?" The boy turned his head from side to side:

"So far, quiet."

"If there are any rumors today, let me know, okay?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said, and bowed and ran off in the direction of a still-unfinished area filled with cranes, workers, and half-finished brick buildings.

Egon turned onto the opposite street and kept going for a few more minutes until the next turn. The two-story houses were built close to each other and were no different, still the same red and gray, still no end in sight. Near one entrance stood a local musician, playing sad guitar music, singing about the life in difficult times. Egon walked past, smiled at him, and nodded, and he nodded back. A small wind picked up and some paper ads came off and flew along the street. A flock of crows flew overhead, then landed on the roofs of buildings and on iron bridges.

Egon turned right and climbed a small bridge. The river below was muddy, black. On the shore, children were trying to catch dead fish with nets that had surfaced. Egon was just approaching his apartment when he was suddenly yanked by the shoulder. He turned around and there was a humanoid fairy, with small wings and a wreath of butterflies on her head. She offered to read his fortune on his hand.

"You're not local, as I see," Egon told her.

The fairy looked around and saw people stop and start looking at her intently.

"I'm sorry," she said, and left.

Egon went into his entrance, started climbing the stairs to the second floor, when he saw a couple of boys no older than seven years, painting the walls.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing, you little brats!”

The boys turned and looked at him.

"Go where you were going," one of them said.

Egon began to approach them closer and closer, ignoring all the garbage that lay on the stairs and the vile industrial smell that permeated not only the apartments, but also the people themselves. He came close to the children, bent down, and said:

“You look like your father, he lives in a house not far from here, across the street. His name is Martin, right? Do you think your father will be happy if some people came to him and asked for paint money to fix all the shit left after you?”

"What are you implying?"

"That if you and your friend don't get the fuck out of here right now, you'll be in huge trouble."

The children threw the paint under their feet and were about to run away, when Egon grabbed one of them by the arm and asked:

"Did you hear anything interesting on the streets?"

“Nothing, let me go!”

“Don't lie to me, I can see everything in your eyes.”

“Are you a metentis? Why do you see everything in my eyes?”

"Don't mess with me, little brat.”

“Maybe I know something interesting.”

“Go on, I like to hear interesting news.”

“Today is the birthday of some important inquisitor, all the local nobility is going there.”

"Interesting…”

"Please let me go, I won't paint here anymore."

"Where will you then?"

"Somewhere else."

“Well, at least you’re honest. Listen up, both of you. I suggest that we become friends. You give me rumors, and I give you food and money, how about that?”

The children looked at each other in surprise.

"Are you sure you're not a metentis?"

“Sure.”

"So, you're the one my father told me about?"

"What did he tell you?"

"When I was born, my parents had no money, they begged on the streets, until a young man came and helped, now everyone knows him here as "The Keeper".”

“I like you more and more. Wait here, I'll just be a minute.”

Egon went to his apartment, went to the back room, took two coins out of a drawer, and returned. The children were still standing.

Egon held out two silver coins, one in each hand. "One for you, and one for you. This is a deposit. If there is something interesting in the streets, tell me, the more interesting and truthful the rumor is, the higher the pay."

The children snatched the coins from him and nodded.

“Why make life difficult for each other when you can make it better, right?”

“That's right, keeper.”

"What are you both called?"

"My name is Autolycus. And his is Astafius.”

“So, we'll get to know each other, and now get out of my sight.”

The children turned and ran away. Egon went back to the apartment, changed into clean clothes, put on his coat, and looked at the clock tower outside the window.

“Fuck. I’m late.”

He went out, closed the door behind him, and returned to the street, ran to the nearest bus stop. The street was getting noisier by the minute, and the heavy sounds of machine tools, people talking, and the loud emissions of steam from nearby steam engine factories were becoming more frequent. Steam locomotives were running on the bridges, moving at a speed of no more than ten kilometers per hour, and the wagons were replaced one after another by an endless stream.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Egon managed to run into the tram, sat down at the very end next to the window. On the wall under the window, he saw the inscription "the third series of steam trams, created according to the concept of the inventor Metyr".

Not too lazy to write so many letters, he thought.

Then he closed his eyes, falling into a half-doze. Only the sound of the rails and the signal horn could be heard in the background. With each new stop, the tram filled with people. But he didn't care about anyone. He imagined that he was lying in his bed, that he did not need to go anywhere, imagined that from the window of his future home he could see fields, trees, and somewhere on the horizon, or even beyond it, the steam, like the smoke of a smoldering cigarette, leaves the chimneys of the industrial district rising to the sky.

"Hey," someone shouted, and began to shake Egon lightly by the shoulder, “hey, get up, your station.”

Egon opened his eyes and saw the tram driver. Then he looked around, thanked him, and ran out into the street. The wind was getting colder, and the apartment buildings were already somewhere behind. On the sides, small shops opened with blacksmithing, jewelry, and a little further away, women who sewed their own products, were preparing their shops for the day.

Egon reached, this time, the bus stop, where several people were sitting on benches with their faces buried in newspapers. He glanced at the headline: New metentises' accomplices were caught this morning! Egon wanted to read what was being told next, but a bus pulled up.

"Transfer number one," he said sadly.

He went inside, rode for about ten minutes, and came out.

"Transfer number two now," he said in the same tone of voice.

A steam tram was already approaching the stop across the road. He was about to run towards it, hoping that he would only be a couple of minutes late, when a local police officer blocked his way.

"Please wait. The passage is closed."

Egon spat and asked:

"Are the inquisitors coming through now?"

“That’s right.”

“Fuck.”

"Now there, don’t make it hard for me, I’m just doing my job.”

Egon looked over the policeman's shoulder and saw the tram continue on its way.

“Whatever, my train left anyway.”

A minute later, three steam stagecoaches appeared on the road. All of them were draped with the Inquisition sign painted on them. They drove past at a speed of about 40 kilometers per hour, turned a corner and disappeared.

“Are they going to the birthday party?” Egon asked with a slight sneer.

"I don't know," the policeman said. “And if I did, I wouldn't tell you.”

"I see. Is it possible to pass now? Another tram will arrive soon.”

“Yes, please.”

Egon crossed the road with the perfectly aligned brick, walked to the tram stop, and waited. Five minutes later, a new tram pulled up, honked, and stopped. Egon went inside and sat down again in the far corner. He drove for an hour, looking out the window. Every ten minutes, the districts were getting better and better. He thought about how his mentor had changed an entire country with his technology in such a short time. Then he looked into the driver's cab, who had not closed the door behind him, and saw a small steam engine with a fire crystal evaporating the water in the boiler room. Then he turned back to the window and dozed off a little.

"Final stop," the driver shouted.

Egon opened his eyes.

"A sleepless night?"

“Yeah.”

“Is it hard for you to live there?”

"There – where is there?”

“Judging by your clothes, you are from the industrial district.”

Egon sighed, thanked the driver, and got out. After walking a few meters, he raised his head, saw a blue sky with white clouds somewhere very high. Men in loose jackets, monocles, and conical hats passed him on the street. Women in white dresses and wreaths were leading their children to a small green park on the left side of the road. The air has become less heavy and more saturated with oxygen. The curb was divided by a small belt of neatly trimmed trees. On the roads, the horse-drawn carts were replaced by steam-powered personal vehicles, which made as much noise as the factories near Egon's house.

Where do all these people get so much money from, and where do so many rich people come from, he thought, dusted off his raincoat and set off in the direction of the forbidden city. It was only a ten-minute walk from the bus stop to there. Egon cut the road short, following a path between fences of houses built around plots of five or ten square meters. He went out onto the main street and ran across the road. In front of him was a whole city within a city, barricaded with red brick walls.

Egon went to the gate, showed his pass to the guards, and went inside. He turned right and passed a large temple with golden domes, pristine white walls, and a small flower shop. Then he passed several secret facilities that looked more like prisons. And finally, he got to a small booth. He opened a wooden door, went down a spiral staircase, opened several more doors, and entered the laboratory.

Metyr was already working hard. He was an elderly man, but his appearance did not match his years at all. If Egon didn't know him, he would have said that his mentor was only thirty years old. Clean-shaven skin on his face, no wrinkles. The body is slim, energetic. Some kind of metovis, no doubt. In the laboratory (which was no bigger than a one-room apartment), scrolls, books, and several alchemy jars were scattered on the floor. And in the far corner of the entire wall, there was the most important invention that turned this world upside down. This machine, created by an unknown scientist, could endow Vitavis (or VV for short) crystals with one of the four elements: water, wind, earth or fire.

Metyr noticed Egon, and went over to him.

“Egon, where the hell have you been? You're twenty-six minutes and” Metyr trailed off a little, "and thirty seconds late."

“I missed the tram because a policeman blocked my way to let the steam stagecoaches of the Inquisition pass.”

"And there were more than a hundred steam stagecoaches? They were like a freight train going wagon after wagon?"

“No, there were three steam stagecoaches.”

“As far as I know, stagecoaches go faster than 5 meters per hour. You know how I know that?”

"Because you invented them."

“Yes, because I was the one who invented them, designed them, tested them for years, and I know that such stagecoaches move at least forty kilometers per hour. And then, by the method of logical reasoning, the following question appears: why are you always late? All my life I've been teaching you, raising you from the very first day of your birth, trying to get you out of this habit, and it only gets worse with age. Egon, tell me what am I doing wrong, huh?”

“I don't know, sir. I apologize.”

"Look at you, and your eyes are almost closed."

“I couldn't sleep all night. Must be insomnia.”

"He's still lying to me!” Metyr raised his hands up, spun around, and shouted, “Please, mother silence, save me from his lies. Listen, you're going to tell your friends lies, okay? Do you think I – a man who created locomotives, cars, found the use of crystals of different elements in everyday life, am not able to add two plus two and understand that yesterday morning, a guy came to us, said that today he would bring a bunch of precious stones, and suddenly you come to me sleepy? Egon, I don't mind you robbing a rich fool of his diamonds, but it's all going to end sooner or later. If you continue to live in the shadows, you will die in the shadows. Do you understand me?”

“I understand, sir.”

“Actually, today I wanted to show you something...”

“Show what?” Egon interrupted.

“Something that will change your life. My new experiment!”

“It will change my life, are you sure? It scares me.”

“Yes. But I've changed my mind, and I'll tell you about it tomorrow, if you won’t late. This way, you’ll be more motivated. Besides, you won't understand anything if you're sleepy. But remember, this is a very important thing, all these inventions: cars, locomotives, trams, a ketchup pack…”

"You invented it, too?"

“Yes, today I will finish developing a mustard pack.”

“It can't be…”

“Of course, it can. In short, it's all nothing compared to what I'm going to show you tomorrow. Now go back and get some sleep.” Suddenly Metyr became very serious, and he went up to Egon, put his hand on his shoulder, and continued: “No kidding, my boy. If this experiment succeeds, we may have to leave this country.”

Egon felt uneasy. He looked into the eyes of his mentor, who was like a father to him, and realized that he was not joking.

"Do you really think it's worthy? I wouldn't say I'm ready to give it up like this…"

"Changes are coming, Egon. And you either take part in them, or you stay in the shadows. The choice is yours.

"Yes, sir. You know, I'm with you until the very end."

Metyr tapped him on the shoulder and said:

"I didn't doubt you, see you tomorrow, my boy."

"See you tomorrow."

Egon left the basement, walked to the main gate, said goodbye to the guards, who were jealous that he worked only ten minutes today, and went to the steam tram stop. Then he rode for an hour again, got out, and was about to take the steam bus when he heard people shouting from the direction of the square.

What's going on there?

Egon walked quickly toward the sound. The acrid smoke got into his nose, and the screams grew louder. Local unemployed people and onlookers began to come running from all sides. He began to make his way through the crowds, and when he was in the front row, leaning against the fence, he saw four huge bonfires, several soldiers and policemen, and a preacher in a white and gold cloth robe and a diamond-encrusted infula. He said that there are people on these bonfires who were caught using metovis and were preparing a conspiracy against the holy Inquisition.

Egon looked closer and saw Rufus, the guard on the wall, standing on the far side of the bonfire. The fire was already starting to burn, and he was shouting that he was not to blame for anything. Egon jumped over the fence, ran to the bonfire, and said:

"Rufus, what the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know, I swear to God," he said quickly. “The Inquisition came to me today and took me away. Someone snitched on me to them. But I swear to God I didn't do anything. Egon, believe me! I'm not a metentis! I don't want to die.”

Egon ran up to one of the soldiers and said:

"Untie him immediately. I've known Rufus for fifteen years, and he didn't hurt anyone."

“The orders of the Holy Inquisition are not to be discussed.”

"Why the fuck aren't they discussed? Free him now!"

The soldier didn't move. Egon ran to the bonfire and tried to take Rufus down. This was immediately noticed by the guards. They ran after Egon, tied him up, and dragged him back.

"Rufus!" he shouted.

But the guard started crying and screaming in pain.

"Rufus, who snitched on you? Rufus!!!"

"I'll never hear the story of the giant goblin and that little boy," Rufus said softly, and his body went up in flames.

Egon tried to escape from the clutches of the soldiers, slapped one in the face, pushed the other away, broke free and ran back. But then, out of nowhere, a black-robed inquisitor appeared and knocked him out with a single blow. Egon's eyes began to close, and the last thing he saw was his old friend and comrade engulfed in flames.