Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Flashback: A Poor Boy's Dream (Salamah 0-7), Part I

The third year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (313 AF) to The seventh year of the Reign of Emperor Olaf of House Kendar (317 AF), on Canopus

A poor boy's dreams can be as solid as mud.



For Salamah Laurent, realizing he--or rather his father--was poor was a slow process.  A baby's hunger, annoyance...these emotions might eventually coalesce, but not into some deep awareness of poverty.  Instead it began for him with a desire for something.  He wanted something, and the first lesson he learned of poverty was just that.  A lack which, for a long time, he did not really associate with poverty.

Only looking back a bit was he able to understand it.  That his father was a poor miner working for some very minor almost-house--minor by the standards of a House, yet that meant thousand upon thousands of employees, including people to work on their mines, find veins, do a thousand jobs menial and important.  A house that might become a House.  That his mother, however much she might love his father, could not help him where it mattered.

He had five older siblings when he was born on a slightly blustery day, and his parents were far from done, and would have seven more by the time...by the time things changed.  He grew up in a small cramped house, but it seemed warm, and cozy, to his early memories.  That the Wall-set he had was broken half the time, that his toys were second or third hand, that he didn't have a game console and his clothes were threadbare: these were facts that, for a time, when they registered, had no special meaning to him.  When he was three that began to change.

It began with him wanting a toy.  It began with him being denied that toy.  It was that simple, and yet a boy that young--even one who was already showing the traits that made him smarter than the next-youngest brother, two years older and in school--couldn't quite see a pattern.  To his mind, he was being deprived, but he didn't understand why.

He got his first glimmer of his situation on his fourth birthday.  He had long ago moved on from the toy.  The television had gone on to advertise other things, and while he still thought it a cool toy, it was no longer the purpose and the goal of his entirely life as it had been months before.  And his only present was that toy, and nothing more.  They...they had been saving up for who knows how long, and he, childishly, managed to split the difference: showing some gratitude for it, but not enough, all while being unable to resent...not anyone in particular, just resentment without a goal.


Two weeks later his father took him to the big city to get some ice-cream--well, many many many things, but the one he cared about was the ice-cream.

Canopus was a beautiful planet, with weather that was quite great.  And then there were the insects.  Most buildings were air-tight, and some cities had retractable domes.  Despite this, it was still a pretty nice place, in many ways. 

A place that Salamah never mentioned, that, thirty years later, still filled him with this vague, endless disgust.

They were walking along, Salamah anticipating that he would soon hold a cone.  His father was a handsome, if tired, looking man, the darkest of everyone in his family, his eyes a bit dull, but with a smile on his face.  He seemed an amiable enough person, the sort who few people had any reason to dislike.  And then from a cafe--a very nice one, this was a good neighborhood, and even the cafes were upscale--a man stepped out without looking and ran into them.  He had been holding a drink, and it spilled over both of them.

The man wore a great-coat, and long silken pants, and his hair done up in coifs.  The badge on his shirt showed that he was a member of the noble house Hopewell, which was nearly big and powerful enough to qualify as a House.  It was a lion fighting a wolf, both gold, on a blue background.  "Hey," he said, annoyed, "Watch where you're going!"

Salamah expected his father to protest.  It was the other man's--he looked about fourty--fault.  Instead his father grabbed him and they forced him down into a bow as he said, "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again.  I was just distracted...going with my son to get some ice-cream, but that doesn't excuse..." his own shirt was as dirty as the noble's, of course.

"No, it doesn't.  My son and I, he's just finishing up, we were going for a relaxing day, and now you've ruined it.  Why don't you buy the two of us ice-cream instead, and I won't call the guards."

It was almost worst that the other boy, fat and blonde and maybe three, seemed nice and was entirely oblivious.  The ritual of the buying of the ice-cream only took a few minutes and the two were walking off.  Salamah stood without ice-cream, his father's money for it gone towards their (more expensive) requests.

Salamah looked at his father and lost all respect for him.  How could he give in, how could he be weak...that was his ice-cream! 

Within the boy welled up a hatred, and a disappointment.  He never looked up to his father after that.  If Salamah wanted anything out of the world, he would have to make it himself.

Sometimes in the years to come he wanted to trust his father with his dreams, with his hopes, with his ambitions, but Salamah knew that his father was nothing, nothing at all.

But a poor boy's dreams can be as distant as trust.




Cast:

Fahidra Laurent, 48:  Father of Salamah.  He is a company miner working for house Hopewell.  And that means his exact worth, not only now, but for the rest of his time, including half of a given share of the children he produces--which are, as per the contract, going to join mining when they grow up, in some fashion, in exchange for education--and this value is somewhat impressive, one would suppose.  Still a lot less than a noble, of course, but you knew that.

Aafiya Laurent, 39:  Mother of Salamah, and eventually a dozen other children.  You know how those poor people are, popping out kids like candy!  She seems nice enough, too, I suppose, for someone who isn't rich.

Salamah Laurent 0-4:  Hey, here, if Fahidra isn't worth much, at least he's worth something.  Maybe if he works as a miner for the rest of his life he's worth something, as he will, but at this point he's all potential.  Maybe if he stretches and hopes and works hard he'll get a slightly higher paying mine job, but probably he'll take his father's job.

A bunch of other brats:  Why should I care, they're poor and worthless, I repeat myself.

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