Chapter 1: conflicting sides

Empty, dark, lonely, the street was unlike any other. no sound could be heard as the woes of the unfortunate were represented through the tears of mothers who lost their newborns; none could afford to cry; water already ran short. Life expectancy was around adolescence, far below the realm of “normal humans." No child had a dream as they were not given time to fulfil it. The slums taught these kids one thing: if you want to survive, earn your right to survive.

Mind-forged manacles tide from man to man, freedom a finite resource in these parts, every step, every breath, and every blink was counted.

A lonesome boy was running across the hollow streets, his heart and steps perfectly illustrating a harmony that reached the ears of his chasers. This was risky; the food the boy stole could not really be worth it, a bread; his life is at stake yet conviction with the fortitude of steel coursed through his hamstrings, quads, and calves, helping him run more and more.

Raggedy brown and beige clothes lay on the boys shoulders, tattered and ripped, making them seem like spider webs about to fly with the wind, his feet bare in the wind, no resistance or problem with the sewage water traversing the soles of his feet. this is his home, he can’t possibly be disgusted with his home; he found comfort in the water that left mangled flesh trails behind, his foot akin to warriors who walk for miles.

Thick Jet black hair tangled in many patterns; some areas of the black hair blemished with green and brown, marking the struggles of his wretched past. Golden eyes darkened by sorrow made them appear a brownish tint, matching his shirt. His eyes perfectly reflected the mountains of garbage that he was running through, as if he'd walked here a thousand times before, frail arms grasping the bread as it is life, for the reaper has come to collect what is his, yet the boy refuses.

Anger resonated from the man's heart; everyone was struggling, being oppressed and hunted. Grunts and sighs were heard in the background. Many onlookers stared at the man and boy; they struggled to get food, so what made this kid think he has the right to steal food?

The boy shivered, his hand stretching ready to give back the stolen goods. In a moment of flashing thoughts, it made him remember the core rule of this place: you want to survive? Earn it.

In one fluid motion, the boy resumed the cat and mouse chase, hiding behind buildings, climbing fences, and mountains of pre-installed trash in an attempt to shake off the old man from his tail.

It was a maze, and he was the designer: every step, every bird, every mouse, all were accounted for in his full-proof plan.

After carefully losing the chaser, the boy looked down from the top of a building, his huffs and puffs being shrouded by the intense noise being released from a place radiating fluorescent light. He saw the object his heart most desired; he has been here many times nowadays looking upon the fine line separating the two lands, the opposite side, the place where they lived.

Full, ethereal, and loud, the streets were unlike any other; no sound could be made out as the joys of the youngsters who lack responsibility kept morphing together in a lucid cacophony that triumphed every other noise. All could afford to splash liquor from floor to ceiling; another botte was always within arms reach. The life expectancy in the late 100s, reaching far beyond the realm of “normal humans," no child had a dream as their family's income made a dream and aspirations the last of their worries. The opulent land taught these young men and women one thing: if you want to do anything, pay others to do it.

Freedom roaming from man to man, food, water, and breaths running of unlimited fuel. Every liquor splashed and every food trashed ran uncountable, numbers that would shock any “normal human.”.

A popular boy was running across the crystal streets, his heart and steps perfectly illustrating a harmony that reached the ears of all the dancers around him. This was exciting; the food the boy asked for could fill the hungrest of man, a meal ungraded by stars as it reaches far beyond; his life was in easy mode, yet today everything will be changing due to a big announcement by the landowner in the massive banquet hall.

A delicate hand picked up the golden fork that was littered with gems, DING DING DING. Silence echoed in the hall, the previously bombastic room dead; the maniacal dancing and partying silenced by the elegant ringing of the refined man, an announcement came to life.

“Please, give it up too, my eldest child, the successor of the business,” the elderly man motioned his hand to the young big standing behind him, a boy no older than 11, his golden hair flowing with the wind that was let through by the massive golden gates at the front of the banquet hall.

CLAP CLAP CLAP

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An applause loud enough that the vibrations shook the vast estate. Such big news: the Gold family is announcing their heir. who could possibly know what to do with their trillions at such a young age; a natural human instinct, envy.

“Did you hear that the perfect child is becoming the heir?” 

“Is it not expected? He doesn't bear a single fault that can be seen.”

“What positions will his 2 siblings have?”

Mysterious voices rang out, shock and expectedness in a perfect concoction into their tone; they knew who would be the heir and knew it was going to be announced, but to hear it in the first person was shocking.

The perfect boy made his way outside the heart of the party; he didn’t like the dagger-like gazes from the elderly who wanted his family's wealth, hostility was expected from others when you gain wealth.

He stepped onwards towards the outskirts of the estate. There was a boy he always saw staring at the estate, a boy with greed moulded into his eyes. He wanted it; he wanted it all.

“Here you are,” the perfect boy muttered. Thousands of metres opposite him stood a boy with long black hair holding bread that was ripped and moulding.

They stared into each other’s eyes. No words exchanged, yet they perfectly understood each other. In the eerie silence that seemed to last aeons, the perfect boy spoke out, “O’ you who stares at my wealth with greedy eyes, why do you wish to have it all?” A simple question that would answer all that he wanted to know: what could have occurred that you wish to have all the belongings of others? Eyes that burned with malice and envy were directed at the perfect child.

Fire sparked in the dark-haired boy's eyes; he had never wanted anything more than a regular life since he was born, but recently that changed. Why should those people live lavishly while he struggles? He wanted it; he wanted it all. Even though the two boys had a vast distance between each other, they both understood that they were trying to communicate. Due to the predicament of his land, the dark-haired boy couldn’t communicate back even if he could hear the words of the other; the lack of moisture in the boy's mouth made speaking impossible.

“What is your name?” Interest was caught—a boy born perfect with everything, a boy born imperfect with nothing. Yet his question fell on deaf ears.

The dark-haired boy was mesmerised by the endless array of lights coming from the estate behind the blonde boy.

“Well then, I, Alastair Ambrose III, will bestow upon you a name.” This proclamation was met with silence, just the same piercing look with tonnes of conviction behind it. sympathy; actually, no, it was more like pity, the only emotion that Alastair could feel towards the boy.

Roars and screams were suddenly heard from the trenches that the dark-haired boy was from, screeching loud enough to get Alastair to hear. The dark-haired boy quickly, with a face filled with horror, ran away, hoping to hide in time from the incoming group.

Sorrow filled Alstair’s eyes; he had no need to worry about the attack as his estate was guarded by the strongest of all. He looked towards the place the dark-haired boy was before saying, “I hope you can hide in time, for I wish to meet you again in the near future. Midas.”

A smile, words being imprinted on his heart, soul, and mind, Midas He will remember that boy, an individual that interested the boy who has it all—a feeling he hadn’t discovered yet.

But

The perfect boy viewed it as charity; he gave this poor boy a name he can use now; he should cherish it for millennia to come, a privilege that he never thought he would give out at such a young age. 

A smile crept onto Alastair’s face as he walked back into his golden estate.

He was the lord of all, a king amongst parasites that wanted to transfer to the newest host, their previous host being his father.

Alastair walked forward, ready to meet the 10 biggest contributors to his wealth, including him. He wanted to make sure they were onboard with his father’s newest plan, they rarely exchanged words, just work papers that made money grow quicker than usual.

Alastair began walking to meet with his biggest contributor. a contributor adept in oil and weapon exportations.

____

Midas returned to his region of trenches, frightened. He needed to hide fast. He wanted to meet up with his regular companions , a group of 10 including him, to make sure they were safe, but either way he wouldn't know if they were safe or not; no words were ever shared between the 10, just solemn moments that made the days pass quicker than usual.

Midas met up with his closest companion; the first one he saw was a brown-haired boy with a permanent pseudo smile spanning across his face; the result of stitches from scars of knife attacks which were prevalent in these parts. He was a little taller than Midas, his frame a bit more petite. His ears had a trail of dried blood, ruptured eardrums.

Both had to hide, fast. At irregular intervals, a pack of human traffickers burst upon the slums where Midas resides, they take anyone they can find before selling them off to people with wealth.

Midas and his companion didn’t know what happened to those who were dragged, but they saw what happened to those who resisted.

A sight unwanted, a sight unfitting of children.

All the people who weren’t members of the golden estate wished for a chance to rise, a new chance. Midas being the one who wishes the most.

—-

Alastair’s footsteps held more force than usual, his teeth and hands clenched beyond imagination. He did not like the fact that he had to hear out those contributors; Why couldn’t his father just do what those contributors did but better?

‘I wish to be independent, not reliant on some weak contributors who leech off me and my wealth!”

For the first time, all members on earth shared a single feeling. 

Dissatisfaction.

All wanted a new chance where they were better off.  Those who were born at the top were not satisfied with all that they had, while those at the bottom were not satisfied with all that they didn’t have.

[due to the whole of humanity having a shared thought, a new chance will be given to all.]

Was a message that appeared in front of everyone, different expressions were shared: confusion, fear, shock yet the most interesting of all… excitement .

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