( Zeraki's P.O.V )
Zeraki got up early the next day, put on his boots, and started his day with an early jog—a suggestion put forward by Number 3 after she recovered. Number 7 had been impressed that she could actually make meaningful suggestions. The intention was to see how far Zeraki could push his communication with the vessel.
[Dad, why do you call it ‘this vessel’? It’s your body,] Number 3 idly asked as he ran past a food vendor.
‘I suppose I subconsciously do it because I’m not used to having a body. I know it sounds strange, but… that’s just how it is.’
Number 3 thought about it for a while and just mentally shrugged. It wasn’t that important anyway.
He made four laps around the neighborhood, which was a dump if he was to be honest. Trash littered the streets, hobos lay in makeshift structures, possibly dying. He wasn’t sure. Teenage kids, who either belonged to the Gracie Family gang or hoped to join it, traded something from a backpack with a girl clearly not associated with the Gracies. She probably belonged to another prominent gang. Worn-out Gracie graffiti covered old steam furnaces, and broken steam pipes leaked onto the street. The smell was the worst part.
There were stairs whose destination he did not know, but they gave him an idea for his next workout.
He took a break at a food vendor not too far from where he lived. The tea and cakes were tasty, but the steaks-on-a-stick were what made Zeraki memorize the vendor’s name and location: Frankie’s Steam and Spice. It was 300 meters (three blocks) away from his apartment. Next to the vendor was an entrance leading to an underground market. It wasn’t big, and the pictorial store signs indicated they only sold mechanical parts and services.
Zeraki returned to his apartment exhausted and settled in to see the results of his workout. The cold mass in his psyche had reduced by approximately a hundredth.
[Number 3: That doesn’t sound like much.]
‘It isn’t. But it’s consistent. Communicating with this vess— I mean, communicating with my body’s blood wasn’t what I expected. It ignores me when I tell it to do something that goes against its instincts. I can’t tell it to stop taking oxygen from my lungs, but I can ask it to reduce the amount it takes. Asking it to do what it’s already doing is easier. While running, it responded well when I asked it to burn more calories in particular sections. While eating, I asked it to absorb more of a particular nutrient and less of another. But I couldn’t ask it to stop entirely.’
[Number 7: That’s great! You can’t be poisoned… Okay, you can still be poisoned, but you won’t die from it!... Unless you get poisoned while sleeping…]
[Number 3: Do you have to be so negative about it? If someone poisons him while he’s sleeping, I’ll wake him up. I’m happy for you, Dad! Maybe if you learn more languages, you can melt that cold feeling in your head completely and maybe evolve and have more powers.]
[Number 7: What makes you think Father will evolve?] he asked, genuinely interested in this hypothesis.
[Number 3: Well, Number 4 keeps talking about evolving and ascension. I thought it might apply to Dad.]
Number 7’s jaw dropped, [ He’s an anime junkie. Don’t listen to him.]
Zeraki didn’t know what to say about the evolution part, but she was right about learning new languages being his best option for clearing the mass in his psyche. The points in the void of his mind weren’t showing any signs of being useful, but he had no intention of stopping the myriad consciousnesses inside him from making their promises.
He took a shower, got changed, and left for Ola and Hadiza’s place. When he arrived, he found them supervising a handful of workers as they moved in furniture. Before heading over to see them, he made his way towards the hitching rail. Four horses were tied there, and he presumed they belonged to the handymen.
Zeraki petted them, trying to understand their sentiments and learn their language… and he did understand them effortlessly, but apparently, horses didn’t have a language.
[Number 7: Well, that was underwhelming.]
[Number 3: No, it was not! It’s amazing! Dad, can you ask it to sit?]
Zeraki shrugged and sent his desire for the horse to sit, interacting with the simple sentiment of mild curiosity shown by the horse. But it just stood there and looked at him—ignoring him.
[Number 3: What if you use simpler sentiments? Or a different horse? It’s not useless, Dad. You have a beautiful ability.]
Zeraki looked at Number 7, who just shrugged. It cost nothing to humor Number 3, so he did as asked.
He sent "sit" to all four horses, but still, nothing happened. Number 3’s heart felt Γ Disappointment ˩ and Γ Reluctance ˩ seeped into his mind. As a last resort, he decided to forward Number 3’s sentiments to the horses.
They all suddenly stopped chewing and looked up at him. Then he perceived new sentiments from them, something he didn’t understand because they weren’t just single, concise sentiments but an amalgamation that faded into each other and kept changing.
[Number 7: I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. That’s guilt, Father!] Number 7 looked at Number 3, who was still trying to understand what had happened.
‘They respond only to heartfelt sentiments. They speak using their hearts,’ Zeraki sighed. ‘Looks like I’ll be leaving talking to animals to you, Number 3.’
She practically preened at that before she also felt guilty for it.
‘Nonsense. Be happy, Number 3. Don’t worry about me. I don’t mind leaning more on you.’
Zeraki had come to realize that emotions were strange to him. He felt them, but they were material and nothing more. They never reached his soul, or if they did, then he didn’t know what to make of them. He was leaning more towards the possibility of them not reaching him. He was a spectator to his emotions. How Number 7, 3, and a million other people could tell what was ‘good’ and ‘bad’ was a mystery. They were all the same to him. What was he missing that made him different?
Zeraki shook his head, clearing the idle thoughts. ‘Number 3, see to what extent they will follow your instructions.’
[Okay…]
She sent a complex sentiment, asking them to give her some food. They all reached into the trough and brought him a share of their vegetables, dropping them in his hands before rubbing their heads on him.
“Ha! Big man. They have accepted you as one of their own and made you their leader!”
Hadiza’s cheery laughter came from behind him. Zeraki turned but didn’t leave the horses and gave Hadiza a brilliant smile. “Kneel before the pony overlord!”
Hadiza didn’t skip a beat and knelt, causing Number 3 to mentally keel over in laughter, sending waves of joy into his brain, which he forwarded to the intended recipient.
He gravely lifted the cabbages the horses had gifted him and placed them on her head. She scowled.
“By the power vested in me by the mustangs and the divine right of ponies, I hereby crown you the rightful ass to the throne.”
Number 7 chuckled as Zeraki took off in a sprint, only to be smacked on the back of his head with a cabbage torpedo.
——
“That’s a lot of stuff,” Zeraki said as he cleaned himself off.
Hadiza walked over and leaned her head on his shoulder. “That’s Ola for you, big man. She got it all for free too.”
“And how did she achieve that? ‘Free’ is practically taboo in these parts.”
“Hmm, well, we visited random furniture shops and she found one owned and managed by a woman she liked for some reason. She talked shop, the woman ended up making a hell of a lot of money from it, and there we have it. The storekeeper’s gratitude… or investment? I don’t know. I’m content getting free stuff either way.”
======================
(Tara’s P.O.V)
Kids started workin’ as young as five to bring in some scratch for the fam. Our small frames made us perfect for jobs grown folks couldn't handle. We’d clean machine parts tucked away in tight spots, like scrubbing chimneys. We also worked the coal mines, crawling in drilled holes to set explosives or fetch busted drill bits, lugging heavy chains to tie 'em down for extraction.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I hated the grind, but it was a must. I stepped out of the factory I'd been toiling in since dawn. I’d landed a gig cleaning a couple of chimneys that were shut down for maintenance. The sun was high, so I had a bit of downtime. I slipped my six pence—the day’s pay—into my pocket.
Years of slogging had built my stamina. I thought about hitting up the mines to see if they needed a retriever but nixed the idea. Couldn't burn out today. I strolled past the residential blocks and community homes. I'd gotten used to the stench; it didn’t bug me anymore. The folks who couldn’t work depended on Lady Jiang’s charity. She'd set up community houses in all the Southern districts and handed out grub. Maybe that’s why folks adored her. She was kind, generous, and a looker. But none of that mattered to me. I had my own worries.
I was looking forward to my first reading lesson with Mr. Zeraki. He was the oddest bloke I’d ever met. Rich, didn’t haggle, paid upfront, and actually talked to me. Didn’t look down on me like the central district snobs. Sure, I was dirt to them, but I didn't care. I had different dreams. I didn’t crave belonging or want to join a gang. I listened to other kids yammer on about changing the world or wishing they were born into the Corpos. Their dreams were just high-fantasy fluff.
In time, I had my own epiphany. "Anyone who tries to change the world ends up broken, their impact a screw in a bucket of bolts, —a drop of water in an ocean for those with refined palates—. I want to die unchanged by this world. Harder than it sounds. It hurts being seen as worthless, but I won't bend. I won’t spend my days bitter. I’ll live my way, grow—or die—as I see fit.
Most kids croak before 18, and that used to be fine by me. Just resist the world for another seven years, and the struggle’s over… yayy.
*sigh.
“But the bloke from yesterday seemed alright. Didn’t look at me like filth on his boot, even offered me food which wasn’t drugged and that felt kinda nice. I’ve decided to give it another go. Maybe this is my shot at surviving… maybe not. But it’s only seven years, not like I’ll be let down for long.” I slapped my cheeks, “none of that depressing talk, little missy.”
I ain't taking more hits from the world. I need a life where I ain’t just toughening up my skin. Learning to read will uncover the secrets those Corpos stash in their library. I’ll find out why we kick the bucket before 18 and stop myself from croaking.
—————————————————
( Zeraki Asani’s P.O.V )
Zeraki got home and found Tara seated—probably asleep—by his door. She looked like she had just crawled out from the depths of hell, if he was to be honest. A consequence of her occupation, it seemed.
Zeraki sighed and unlocked the door, which caused her to jolt awake. She seemed apologetic, but Zeraki waved it off and welcomed her in. It was about 4 p.m., two hours earlier than the agreed lesson time, so Zeraki had her take a shower and let her take a quick nap after cleaning up. She’d still have to wear the same soot-stained clothes she had on, but it was better that she had the carbon, dirt, and oil off her skin.
Being comfortable was necessary to facilitate effective learning—at least that’s what Number 7 claimed. Zeraki didn’t understand why they found it necessary to explain themselves to him. They wanted something that he didn’t mind providing, so he saw no reason for them to walk him through their mental processes.
Tara woke up 30 minutes before 6, and they began with the very basics, learning the alphabet of Mother’s Universal Language. Zeraki wasn’t that keen on her learning to write as much as he wanted her to learn how to read. The time they had on their hands did not leave room for repetitive tasks such as training arm dexterity.
During the whole session, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was about children that made people want to care for them. He noticed this not just from Number 3, but Number 7 too, who kept giving him pointers on how to treat the child. Ola’s affection for Hadiza also stood out, as did Amali’s fury over how they were treated as laborers in the fields. Zeraki watched as the child tried hard to remember everything he said, her street talk pattern slipping every once in a while, which she corrected as soon as it dawned on her. The lesson ended at 7, and he walked the child home, which was quite a distance—20 minutes from where he lived.
——————————
Sunday was pretty chill. He woke up and began grinding all the way until midday. Running laps, doing push-ups, and everything in between. By the end of it, he had a better grasp of how communication with his body worked. Most of his body functioned on default instructions. In fact, there wasn’t any part of him that was fully independent from a certain level of automation. Communicating with himself involved asking the body to alter its automatic functions. Instead of feeling pain when injured, he could choose not to feel pain unless requested. This also allowed him to dedicate more resources to functions he desired, like muscle building in certain parts of his body while reducing the acquisition of certain nutrients.
He pushed himself to the limit and then surpassed it, comfortable with the knowledge that all he needed was a good nutrient-rich meal before bed, and he would wake up fully recovered from the abuse.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
He stood up from his crouching position, barely able to feel his legs anymore, and wobbled to the door.
“We come bearing gifts, big man! Uhh… wow, didn’t know I’m that pretty. I made you weak in the knees just by saying your name.” Hadiza looked at the exhausted Zeraki, who looked like he was being held up by strings. He stared at her and his eye twitched.
“Alright, alright. Sheesh.” She reached down, placed his hand over her shoulder, and brought him away from the door.
“Bring them in, boys!” she shouted as she stood inside the empty living room. Handymen began carrying in furniture, from a couch to a bed and mattress.
“Miss Ola?” he asked.
“Yep.”
The bedroom, once filled with gang memorabilia, was emptied out, leaving only the permanent stains on the walls, spray paint, and the furniture brought in by Hadiza.
She placed him on the couch and sank in on the other end.
“So what were you doing before I got here?”
“Working out. What exactly did Miss Ola do to have them willingly give out free furniture?”
“They are only offering Ola free furniture. She insisted that they treat you the same as they treat her, so you reluctantly get partial special treatment. So it’s not free, just Ola-witchery. The store owner agreed to listen to her ideas and test them out. Instead of trying to sell furniture by convincing people to buy, Ola had the store owner send out her employees with a single carriage containing five mattresses around the neighborhood.
After knocking on people’s doors, they would point to the carriage and say they offered old mattress disposal services for those who needed new ones. It didn’t even take an hour to clear the carriage. They are doing door-to-door services instead of Screamers to milk the idea for all it’s worth before it’s stolen by her competition.”
“What’s a Screamer?”
“Newspaper, old man. Anyway, it’s been wonderful, but I have to go. I have an exam to study for. Go on with your… weak-knee exercise. We’ll meet at the library when I’m done.”
Zeraki leaned back as the door closed behind him and exhaled. The furniture was unexpected.
[Number 3: I really like Hadiza. I wonder where Amali went. I miss her. And Dad, will you please go buy more things? How could you sleep on the floor like an animal?]
Number 7 felt his jaw drop. [You were the one who refused to sleep on the bed!]
[Number 3: One, eww. Two, Dad is not sleeping in some gang member’s bed! Who knows what kind of sin was done on there, and I’m sure it smelled terrible.]
‘Well, I suppose we could go out and get more things.’
Zeraki rested for an hour before he went out to shop for the basics: clothes, pens, ink and paper, kitchen and laundry amenities.
It was difficult pinpointing where exactly the shopping centers started or ended since he could see shops inside the lobbies of some residential buildings. Officially though, the Thousand Li market was a thirty-minute ride by omnibus—they had the signs and everything marking the point of entry.
Strange artifacts as well as everyday goods were sold either in the open market or in stores. Since Zeraki wasn’t the only one making use of the bathroom, he got things Number 3 thought Tara might also need.
There was a metallic contraption with a wiggly protrusion and a handle that Number 7 insisted Zeraki should buy.
‘What is it?’ he asked as he flipped it over, trying to figure out what made it so remarkable in Number 7’s eyes.
[Number 3: Uh! Dad, I know this! It’s what they call a… uhm… kettle? I believe it helps with the… tea-ification process.]
[Number 7: Careful now, dear sister. It is a dangerous affair indeed, for one to make use of their entire vocabulary in a single sentence.]
He bought the kettle even though he had no idea how to use it. Number 7 looked competent enough with it.
———————————
(Tara’s P.O.V)
I hit the coal pits ‘cause the cogs and gears in the factories stopped on Sundays. The mornin' was a dry spell, so I only got grindin' in the afternoon, clockin' out at 5pm.
The day before had wrapped up sweet; I was gettin' wise! I slapped my forehead, I was supposed to be practicing my prim talk. From the top, doll:
The previous day ended really well; I was learning! Being allowed to shower and sleep was unexpected, but I was grateful. I did not bring it up with Mr. Zeraki for fear that it might seem like I was being cheeky— is cheeky street cred? I’ll use ‘rude’ just to be safe. I didn’t want Mr. Zeraki thinking I was being rude.
I also kept my speech prim and polished when I spoke to him, like how my ma used to talk. I did not want to fall out with the blo—… Mr. Zeraki. I really needed to stop saying ‘bloke’. Anyway, he was kind and really peculiar, but in a good sorta way. I was not going to muck it up by having misunderstandin’s between us.
I went over to Mr. Zeraki’s, dirty again since it was already late, and he let me take a quick wash. The house had more gear, solidifying the idea that Mr. Zeraki was rich. The bathroom also had more fancy bits that he said I could use. I meekly walked in, got cleaned up, and used the new bathrobe I’d been given.
The lesson rolled on for two hours, then I slipped back into my dusty duds and got walked home by Mr. Zeraki. I really did appreciate that he was willing to go out of his way to make sure nothing happened to me while I was in his care, but I soon regretted it when I got home.
I’d forgotten how my old man got when I rolled in past dark. Being beaten before Mr. Zeraki was humiliating, and I had a sinking feeling in my gut that he might refuse to teach me because of it. The possibility of that happening hurt more than the beating.
So I refused to cry through it all and did my best to show Mr. Zeraki that it was nothing to be concerned about. I looked up to the distant pavement rails where he was standing to smile at him but his head turned away. It dawned on me that he didn’t want to be there. For no one to know he had anything to do with me.
Which made it harder not to cry because it felt like all my effort to present a respectable front had been wasted. I restrained my speech when I spoke, practiced in my head, keeping my thoughts prim and proper, all to create the illusion that he wasn’t associating with a sling joint so that he wouldn’t regret teaching me in the middle of our sessions. I knew how central folks valued their rep, and it was crumbling before I even gained anything.
I lowered my head and simply waited for the storm to pass. Though my heart ached that I would no longer receive the lessons, I would pick up whatever broken pieces of my work that remained and try again when the opportunity presented itself. I’ll be dead in seven years. I refused to be broken when I was so close to it all coming to an end.
Suddenly, I felt my resolve solidify in my chest. A warm feeling spread though my tiny frame and for some reason, the tears I held back started streaming out. I was happy. I didn’t understand why, but I was. I no longer felt so isolated, my mind and body welcomed this state for nothing had ever felt so right in my life. I would not be broken. A promise I felt like I shared with someone but I couldn’t tell who. It didn’t matter though, my heart no longer ached and I no longer felt so alone.
——————————-