Hayes is doing a training routine he's set up for himself while he was recovering from his injuries. A flame ignited in him that night, one that makes him want to help others as Algar helped him.
50 Push-ups, 50 sit-ups, 100 consecutive punches, and 20 laps around the block. It's not much, he knows, but everyone starts somewhere, and he's only been eating well since he moved into the orphanage 6 weeks ago. Slowly he notices improvement as the exercises get easier. It's probably time to increase the difficulty soon.
As Hayes is doing laps around the block, Algar approaches him.
“Hard at work, kid?” he says.
Hayes stops, catches his breath and says, “Thanks to you.”
“Me?” Algar asks as he pulls his head back slightly.
Hayes nods and says, “I want to do what you do. Help Cefre and other people.”
“It's a dangerous job, you know that, right?”
“I'm getting ready for it.”
Algar notices Hayes’s eyes glimmer with determination. How could he squander such intense emotions?
“I'll let Cefre know,” he says, “about you wanting to help. I’m sure there’s little things she could use some extra hands with.”
Hayes smiles broadly.
“Anyway, don't let me distract you more, kid,” Algar says as he gently pushes Hayes’s back.
Hayes continues running the laps he set out to do with a swelling heart. He knows he is not strong. He is nowhere near strong enough to do anything Algar does, but maybe, just maybe, Cefre will accept Algar’s request and allow Hayes to help. Even if it’s something like carrying bags of bread to give away.
He finishes and returns to home, his stomach aching for lunch. He steps into the bakery and hears a voice from behind the counter.
“Catch!” Robbert shouts quickly.
A bun flies towards Hayes and his hands barely having let go of the door, but he dexterously snatches the treat from the air.
“Filled with strawberry jam, your favorite,” Robbert smiles, “Nice catch, by the way.”
“Thanks, Robbert,” Hayes says and takes a bite, some of the jam squeezing onto his fingers out of the corner of where he bites. He quickly licks the jam from his fingers as it’s about to drop to the floor.
As he moves through the building towards the alcove, Algar passes him and gives a quick wink.
The rest of the day was spent in learning to write and basic math, which is to say, a terribly eventless, normal day. Cefre didn't mention or hint at the talk she presumably had with Algar. Perhaps she thinks he's not ready.
As night falls, Hayes hops into bed and wistfully sighs, hoping that soon he can prove himself. Maybe he could scout out the location of some kids that used to be just like him and let Cefre know. Or maybe he should just be bold and ask for a task directly. Determined, rolls over and closes his eyes, and soon his mind drifts off to other places.
His mind wanders off into the dreaming world. Scenes of his old home play before him. The rundown shacks, rotten doors, and collections of bottles covering the floor paint a familiar sight. He can almost smell the alcohol and moldy dampness that goes along with it. The faint flicker of candlelight casts a long shadow of his father.
Hayes hears him grumble, “Back again, are ya?”
Coins on the table in front of Dalder shimmer like the sea, softly reflecting light on his face and his surroundings.
“I hope yer happy with ya choice,” he says dryly as he picks up a coin and inspects it. “You, for this… Yes, ta me it was the right choice.”
Hayes feels his heart beat in his chest and says, “I don't doubt you're happier with me gone. Just a broken man drowning in drinks.”
He clenches his jaw, readying himself for the retaliation that's about to come his way.
“Aye, now that ya mother is gone, I can’t give ya anythin’ more,” Dalder sighs. “Ya seem well fed enough at that bakery, an’ me, I could finally eat a bit of somethin’ too.”
He slowly pushes his chair back as it loudly scrapes on the floor and stands up. He turns around and shuffles towards Hayes.
“I miss ya mother, boy.” Dalder says.
He stops right in front of Hayes and puts his hands on Hayes’s shoulders. Hayes expects a tight squeeze, a headbutt, a knee to the stomach. But instead, tears fall from his chin, dripping onto the wooden planks between the both of them.
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“I'm a broken man,” he says with a shiver in his voice, “an’ only ya mother could fix me. Only ya mother.”
Dalder drops to his knees and starts shaking Hayes, saying, “Ye got to do her proud, son. Do it for her. Be strong an’ do good. You got that, son?”
Hayes is frozen by this sudden change in temperament. His father never cries, what has gotten into him? Too much booze?
Dalder looks up as if someone is standing behind Hayes and says, “Well, don't let me keep ya any longer. Someone’s here for ya.”
Dalder smiles and squeezes Hayes’s shoulders to the point where it hurts. With a shock, his eyes open and his hands snap to the arms that are holding him. Barely able to process it, his hands wrap around slender wrists that immediately move away.
His room is dark and a bright candle blinds him briefly. He squints and sees Cefre bent sitting on his bed, bent over him and smiling.
Algar stands behind her and whispers, “Hey, kid.”
“Are you alright?” Cefre quietly asks. “You seemed troubled.”
Hayes rubs his eyes and stammers, “Uh… Yes, just a weird dream. What’s happening?”
“Well, the big fellow behind me said you wanted to help out,” Cefre says, “is that right?”
Hayes nods.
“See, the thing is, Algar’s usual partner has come down with an illness, so he needs someone else. Are you up for it?”
Hayes’s eyes widen a little and whispers excitedly, “Yes! I mean, what are we doing?”
“A quick in and out job to loosen some purse strings,” Cefre replies. “You’ve never been to Elysium, I don’t think?”
“You want me to help steal?”
“I call it redistributing wealth. But yes. It’s a necessity to facilitate the operations we have around Alomore. Algar and I aren’t the only ones, but we can talk about that later. I promise.”
“I don’t know…”
“Trust me, what we take is pocket change to them. You’ll see once you’re up there, they are rich beyond your imagination. And I know you’re ready for it with all that training you’ve done.”
Hayes hesitates for a few seconds and says, “Okay then, when are we going?”
“As soon as possible,” Algor says and lays some dark clothes on the bed. “Put this on, and we’re going.”
Cefre gets off the bed and says, “Thank you, Hayes. You’ll save many kids like you for doing this.”
“When you’ve changed, meet me down at the shop,” Algar says.
Cefre and Algar exit the room and leave Hayes to change clothes.
The outfit consists of a dark linen shirt with a hood sewn onto it, dark dyed cotton pants, a thin gray scarf, and black leather gloves. With everything on, only his eyes should remain visible under the cover of darkness.
He meets with Algar at the shop and they head out. They make the long walk towards the inner wall leading up to Allutum - the middle strata. Sketchy figures hanging about on corners of streets look at them with side eyes as they whisper to their cronies, the imposing stature of Algar likely leaving the pair alone. Windy passageways rarely traveled lead them to the foot of the wall. Several large grates with foul liquid dripping down the wall sit several meters above the ground.
Algar points at the grate located above a shack built onto the wall and says, “That’s the one.”
He walks to the shack and climbs to the top, grabbing and pushing himself up on rotten wooden poles and rusted metal sheets that look like they’ll snap any second, creaking with every movement. Hayes is surprised by the nimbleness of Algar’s hulking body. As he reaches the top, he gestures to Hayes to follow.
He walks towards the shack and looks up, plotting a way to the top. He puts his hand on the first pole and pushes himself up on an elevated sheet of metal with his foot as it groans under the force. Carefully he continues, testing every step and handle before resting his weight on them. As he nears the top, Algar reaches out to him and pulls him up.
“You'll get faster every time, don't worry,” Algar says.
He takes out a small set of tools from a pouch dangling on his hip and starts fiddling with the grate, now in reach. After a minute, several bolts clatter on the roof of the shack and soon after the grate creaks wide open.
“I’d put your scarf over your mouth,” Algar says as he does so himself and climbs into the large pipe.
Hayes does the same and follows. The smell penetrates his scarf and he gags. The putrid combination of excrement and rotten food waste penetrates straight through, the sun baked roads of the underbelly littered with trash are no comparison.
He tries to recollect himself and continues forward, his feet softly splashing in the ankle deep wastewater.
“I keep the goal in mind,” remarks Algar, “but it's not always that easy. My usual partner struggles with it still, like you.”
Between his hacking coughs, Hayes replies, “Dumping this where we live, as if we're rats.”
“We're less than that. Less than the shit you're walking in. That's why we do what we do.”
They reach a very tall and hollow chamber with a set of ladders, going up until darkness swallows the little light that comes through. After every 15 meters, a small metal platform is created to rest or break your fall. The stream of waste continues to quietly run beside the ladders with the occasional splash of something solid.
“Ready, Hayes?” Algar asks.
“I'll do my best,” Hayes replies.
“Let's go, kid.”
The pair climb in darkness for much longer than one might expect to reach the top of the wall. Several times Hayes’s foot or hand slipped from moss covering the metal handles, but he made sure his other limbs had an iron grip to not fall, though his heart still skipped a beat each time. As they reach the top, they wipe the sweat off their faces and take a short break to catch their breath. Hayes shakes his hands in an attempt to remove the nervy feeling of the long climb. A small hole acting as a window looks out over the underbelly.
“Almost looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” Algar asks as he looks through the hole. “Makes you forget what happens down there. In that sense, it’s not weird folks up here don’t do much to help.”
“But they could come and see,” Hayes replies, “if they wanted?”
“Yes, but they don’t. Deep down they know it’s not right, but they fear to face the truth which will ruin their perfect lives. Blissful ignorance is the result.”
Hayes keeps looking through the hole, unsure what to think of this.
Algar softly pats Hayes’s shoulder and says, “We should continue before dawn comes.”
“Right,” Hayes responds and follows Algar further inwards and away from the moonlight.
Another set of ladders would soon be upon them and they would reach their final destination: Elysium, home of the privileged and apathetic.