The Life We Know: Trust

Copyright

The Life We Know

Trust

By C. Lamerichs

Copyright © 2017 by C. Lamerichs.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN 978-1-3700332-0-1 (EPUB)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Illustration Copyright © 2017 by Sabrina Kooijmans, Sappig-art.com.

Table of Contents

The Monotony of Life

Sneaks and Defenders

Nicholas's Story

Trinity of Happiness

The First Steps

The Pact

Aqualux

The Search

The Rushing Spring

Silvian

Fishing

Revolution

Everyday Pleasantries

Secrets

Thirty-one H Beta

Toxin and Fire

Cowardice

Crime and Punishment

Privilege

Moving Forward

Beyond the Wall

The Monotony of Life

Thursday should have been roughly the same as Wednesday. It was a norm Nicholas had set for himself; every day at work should be roughly the same as the one before it. Having more expectations for his profession, that of a simple factory employee, would've been foolish in his opinion. It was a good thing that he had no expectations whatsoever.

Thursday should have all gone exactly as he'd planned it, yet if there was one person who liked to interfere with his scheduling, it was Jesseminah. She approached him during his break, which he would've preferred to spend by himself. She knew he would've preferred to spend it by himself, which he suspected was the exact reason she'd force her presence upon him. 'Constant solitude was unhealthy', or so she claimed. She pulled this stunt roughly once a week, changing up the day on purpose just to keep him on his toes. Sometimes it would be Friday. Sometimes it would be Tuesday. Sometimes she would do it twice a week and sometimes, she wouldn't pester him at all. It was aggravating beyond reason. 

If it isn't my favorite sourpuss! she cooed as she slid down into the seat across from him. A large box was set down on the cafeteria table as she did so. 

Hm, was the only reply he could bring himself to give, keeping his gaze locked on his lunch. Focusing on the trifling details of a sandwich was easier than looking her in the eye, though what exactly was causing the difficulty, he couldn't say. Stubborn pride, perhaps.

Hmmm? she echoed in a teasing manner.

Jesseminah Whitfield, 24 years old, was a bit short and a bit stout. She had dark eyes, pale skin and pitch-black hair. Hair that would occasionally be tied back in a ponytail or a braid, other times it would hang loose. Jesseminah was unpredictable like that. Not to mention, she could be loud when she wanted to. Those were all traits Nicholas couldn't appreciate.

When she'd been a fresh-faced rookie, he'd suffered the burden of guiding her around the factory and supervising her first day. That was almost four years ago, now. Ever since then, despite having plenty of other people to spend her time with, she'd refused to stop associating with Nicholas. Perhaps she considered it an interesting challenge to befriend him. That was the sort of person Jesseminah was, after all. If she saw something that most people would deem 'impossible', she'd tackle it head-on. In a way, her persistence served as a never-ending source of frustration. Then again, in another way, he was grateful that she kept trying. No one else could be bothered to go near him anymore.

A small silence followed, then she tried again. Talkative as ever, I see. Well, that's fine. You'll be thanking me on your knees when you see these.

The box was opened and shoved towards him. Ignoring it wasn't an option, he realized, so he cast a quick glance inside. Pastries. Small, misshapen pastries covered with colorful frosting. He could spot a blue one, a red one, something covered with an assortment of sprinkles... A small part of him grudgingly admitted that they looked very appealing. A greater part of him felt his stomach churn at a painful memory.

Well? Jesseminah demanded, obviously waiting for his honest opinion.

... Did you buy these?

No, you goof! I made them myself! I was experimenting with baking yesterday. I think I have a real knack for it, you know? 

Nicholas frowned. Hearing that she had a 'knack' for something was nothing new. She'd develop a 'knack' roughly once every three months, only to abandon it before long. Her previous pastime was knitting. Before that, it was brewing her own drinks. Before that, it was jogging. 

I see.

Go on, pick one! It'll be better than your boring old jam sandwich, I can assure you that much.

His gaze lingered on the baked goods for a moment, then he shook his head. I’ll pass.

Jesseminah breathed a loud, somewhat frustrated snort before pulling the box back towards her and wrapping her arms around it. She seemed genuinely offended and for a split second, Nicholas experienced genuine guilt in return. Then he shook it off again. It wouldn't be worth the energy to feel guilty over something as inane as this. 

It’s because I didn’t tell you beforehand, isn’t it? she guessed idly. Delicious treats weren’t included in your precious schedule for the day, so now you won’t have any.

That’s not it, he retorted. Rather, it was part of the reason, yet certainly not the whole. 

Then, what? You think you’ll get food poisoning? Everyone else said they taste just fine! If someone had keeled over, I’m sure word would’ve reached us. 

I earnestly don’t doubt the quality, Nicholas replied, wishing she’d just let the topic drop. What did it matter what his reasons were? If he didn’t want any, he didn’t want any. He hadn't noticed just how tight the grip on his sandwich had grown until his fingertips pierced the bread, dipping into jam. Still, he didn't retract them, fearing that it'd only draw attention to the unfortunate situation.

Jesseminah breathed a long, thoughtful sigh of sorts, leaning her chin down on the top of the box. Then she seemed to come to a decision. Meet me after work, all right? There’s something I want to show you.

I can’t. I will be heading straight home.

Oh, please. As if there’s anyone waiting for you there, Jesseminah huffed. Nicholas thought that was exactly the wrong point to make. Perhaps that much was written across his features as well, because she looked mildly apologetic as she shot a gaze his way. "How about tomorrow? I’m asking you now, so that gives you more than an entire day to prepare for the dreadful notion that you may not be heading straight home for once. Is that not enough?"

… Fine.

------

Lift the lid, attach the coil, connect to the first capacitor, connect to the second capacitor, slide knob into outer casing, attach to internal mechanism, close the lid.

It was always the same, day after day. Week after week. In five years' time, nothing at all had changed. No new parts, no new tools, no advancements in the models, no tricks to make the assembly go any faster. Every single radio that was delivered to him received the same treatment. To most, such a thing would be boring to the point of unbearable, yet the routine of it all was what Nicholas liked about his job. It was boring, perhaps, but it was familiar. Almost therapeutic. There were hardly any unpleasant surprises waiting for him here. Every day when he went in for work, he knew exactly what to expect. Four hours of repetition, fifteen minutes to eat, then four more hours of repetition. 

Lift the lid, attach the coil, connect to the first capacitor, connect to the second capacitor, slide knob into outer casing, attach to internal mechanism, close the lid.

He set the completed radio down on the assembly belt and watched it disappear from sight. Already, a new one was being supplied to him. He always had exactly thirty two seconds per radio to finish his task, but he could do it in twenty seven. The spare five seconds were a good moment to take a breather and get his tools back in order. It was the little things that one had to enjoy, really.

The horn to signal a quarter past eight echoed through the halls exactly when he'd expected it to. Much like some herd of trained animals, the workers in the factory hall suffered an immediate reaction. Everyone dropped what they were doing and so did he. As of right now, the assembly was no longer Nicholas's problem. He snatched up his leather bag and began his stride across the noisy hall. The only light came from the lanterns near the ceiling, as the windows were smudged up with black dirt. The moment he would step into fresh air, he would be reminded that it wasn't fresh at all. If he could only make it to the door...

Nicholas!

The shout caused him to freeze in his steps and he wasted two whole seconds on scowling, then whirled around to face whoever had called for his attention. ...Great. It was that guy. Nicholas was fairly certain he was with the metalworking department and that was all he needed to know. He didn't bother to hide his frustration either, causing the man to look mildly uncomfortable in turn.

Yes? Nicholas asked, if only to be polite.

Sorry to bother you, the man began, and Nicholas found that the apology was very much warranted. It's just... The outer hatch to the cooling water tank got stuck again. Do you think you could give it a good twist before you go?

Of course. Whenever there was a problem that required his attention, it would be that rusted old hatch. That much was also a constant, at least. Everyone knew the hatch would get stuck, yet it would never get fixed, as their employers didn't seem to think it was a problem worth fixing. The factory was filled with plenty of people who had muscle power. However, for some reason, muscle power wasn't what was necessary to dislodge it. It was a certain 'feeling' that very few factory workers had, or perhaps it was sheer dumb luck. Whatever the trick, Nicholas was one of the Chosen Ones who happened to have mastered it. Furthermore, the fact remained that as long as the hatch was stuck, the production of parts in this hall was halted. The cooling water was necessary for the metalworking, after all.

It shouldn't be Nicholas's problem anymore, yet he couldn't bring himself to walk out on it. He went out of his way to avoid people, yet he couldn't quite abandon them either. A 'good twist' and a clumsy stream of 'thank yous' from Whatever His Name Was later, Nicholas was finally free to leave. He caught a glimpse of Jesseminah on his way to the door, noted that she was wrapped up in conversation with some other What's His Name and kept going. The agreement to meet with her after work tomorrow hung over his head like something heavy and unpleasant.

Out of the factory and into the streets of Suffitio he went, with its cobblestone sidewalks and compact, rectangular homes. These were the only streets he'd ever known. The only buildings he'd ever known. The only skies he'd ever known, if one could call it a sky at all. Dark clouds hung overhead at all times, blocking out most sunlight and making everything seem that much more gray. It always seemed as if it might storm at any second, yet these were not clouds holding rain. Most people referred to it as smog, or outright smoke. A result of the many factories that Suffitio was home to. This was the industrial zone, after all. The artisan backbone of the great nation of Concordia. No other zone could hope to produce- well- anything- the way it could be produced here. Secrets of the trade and all that. Secrets that were meant to stay here.

The light of the street lamps provided a warm hue that didn't stand a chance of reaching further than a three foot radius. That was fine. It was only a short walk to his home anyway. He made sure to give anyone else he encountered on the sidewalk a wide berth so they couldn't get up to any funny business. Suffitio wasn't known for having a high crime rate; it had nothing to do with that. He simply couldn't trust strangers, that was all there was to it. Besides, the crime rate was solely based on crimes that were reported to the proper authorities, making it a rather incomplete representation of reality.

Nicholas paused his stride when he saw them moving along the sidewalk across the street: Defenders. Two of them, as they were meant to go out in pairs, occasionally even groups. They were the local symbols for authority. The ones who would arrest law-breakers and, as their name implied, defend Suffitio in times of need. What a joke. They were more like scepters for the government, with their expensive uniforms and confident gazes. There was a reason the population referred to them as 'Deafs'. As far as actual effectiveness went, the Defenders only got lucky on occasion. Nicholas couldn't stand the sight of them. Not anymore. 

He buried his hands in his coat pockets and kept walking. Back to his home, where everything was familiar and safe. The cracked stone steps by the front door, the lock that needed an additional jiggle of the handle before it would open, the dirty mat masking part of the tiled, cold floor of the hallway... It was nothing impressive, but then, Nicholas's standards were low. He'd had some semblance of ambitions once, though they'd crumbled and given way for acceptance. The situation was what it was. His life was what it was. True disappointment came from failing to achieve dreams, so it was best not to dream at all.

Every day, he'd start his shift at exactly the same time (midnight) and end it at exactly the same time (a quarter past eight). Every day, he'd bring the same food to work (bread with jam) and drink from the same coffee mug. He had very little need for casual clothing, as his bi-weekly trips to the market were the only non-work occasions prompting him to leave his house. Whenever he was at Mason's Radio Manufacture, he was confined to his uniform. It was pitch-black with a few hints of gray, causing stains to blend in as if they were never there. Still, he washed his clothes with as much vigor as if they were visible, because camouflage was no excuse for laziness (twice a month was laundry day). All of this was the norm of everyday life.

The house was silent. Just as Jesseminah had said earlier, no one was waiting for him there, nor would he ever invite anyone. People were too unpredictable for his liking. He didn't care about his neighbors and he'd stopped caring about his family several years ago. To most, that attitude would be considered unacceptable, yet that was no problem for Nicholas. The indifference ensured that he wasn't bothered by their snubbing. The lamps sprang to life at a simple touch of the switch, bathing the house in a dim glow that failed to spread a warmer mood. His shadow seemed to blend right in with the gray walls as he crouched down to remove his shoes and don slippers instead. Every so often, the light would flicker as if it were being hampered. That was no surprise either. The battery that was powering it was not Suffitio's specialty. Every single one came from a different zone. Nicholas suspected that Aqualux kept all the good batteries to itself and exported only standard quality ones, though there was no way of knowing for certain. The thought of ever visiting the place himself was laughable. 

He moved to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal before bed. Oatmeal, as always. It was a bland, pewter-colored mush, yet it was ideal would-be breakfast food. In a place like this, where day was almost as dark as night, perhaps terms like 'breakfast' were moot. He went to sleep in the semi-darkness of morning and when he would awaken nine hours later, it would no doubt still look the same. Today was Thursday, which meant he'd be having pork and mashed potatoes before work. The ingredients were already bought and waiting to be prepared. It always gave him a hint of satisfaction to know he had everything he needed.

The one thing he still found himself doing before bed was to pause by the mirror and determine whether or not he'd need a haircut soon. It was getting to be that time again, he suspected. A man with dark brown eyes stared back at him. His build was average, really, as was everything else about him. Even his complexion, almost white as a sheet, was the norm in Suffitio. The only ones who had darker skin were those who were born with it. Was it different in other zones? Most likely. They would be exposed to more sunlight. He raised a hand to straighten a lock of frizzy black hair along the side of his face, attempting to determine the full length of it. ...Still not enough to have it cut. The moment he released it, it sprang right back into place, split ends and all. 

He splashed some water into his face, wiped it dry with a towel and then retreated beneath the blankets. His name was Nicholas Setmore, he was 29 years old and he was convinced he'd already reached his full potential. That he would be stuck in the same routine until the day he died. This was his life as he knew it, and he clung to it because he knew it.

------

True to Jesseminah's prediction, Nicholas had spent more than a day bracing himself for their meeting. It wasn't so much that his schedule was thrown off, nor the prospect of spending time with her; it was that he had no idea what to expect. Jesseminah had refused to tell him what it was that she wanted to 'show him'. Not even when he approached her after the horn sounded did she indulge his curiosity. She'd merely told him to follow her and he grudgingly did so. They began to walk down the road, just the two of them. One block, two blocks, three blocks... Whenever Nicholas asked how far they were going, the response would be 'not much further'. 

By the time they came to a stop, fifteen minutes had passed and they were nearing what was known as the center ring of Suffitio. Jesseminah was staring up at the building across the street from them, so he did the same. It was the radio tower. Nicholas had to crane his head at an angle that was almost painful in order to see the antenna on the rooftop. How high was this building again? About two hundred and ninety feet? It was the highest building in the zone, that much was certain. He had never been inside it.

What are we doing here? he asked, hoping Jesseminah would grant him some answers now that they'd reached their surprise destination.

We're going all the way up to the top! she said with no lack of pride. He felt himself cringe at the prospect, though luckily, she hadn't noticed. You need to enjoy the finer things in life. The top of the radio tower has the best view to be found around here. I'll wager a good guess that you've never seen a starry sky before, isn't that right?

Will we be able to see it up there, then? He was doubtful. The smog went fairly high as well, after all.

Well, no... Jesseminah admitted, and for some odd reason, he felt a sting of disappointment. But if you look downward, you'll see all the lights of the city. It's just like a starry sky, except it'll be below us. I go up once or twice a week, myself. The view helps me think.

Oh, was all he said. Perhaps he would have thought to add something else, were it not for the distraction that caught his eye and his attention.

Two figures were crossing the street, heading for the radio tower as well. The way they behaved themselves struck him as off, perhaps even suspicious. They were glancing over their shoulders as if they dreaded being followed. Once one of the men had spotted Jesseminah and Nicholas, his stride slowed to a halt and a glare lingered for an uncomfortable amount of time. It was almost as if he were issuing a silent threat. His companion nudged him in the ribs, a few brief words were exchanged and with that, the two strangers entered the tower.

Errr... Perhaps we should return another time, Nicholas suggested. Shady individuals seemed like the sort of people to avoid.

Don't be silly, Jesseminah said immediately. If you just do this with me now, I will leave you alone for three whole weeks. How does that sound?

The offer left him feeling a bit cold. Jesseminah was his only friend, yet she was attempting to appease him with the prospect of avoiding him. Deep down he knew it was wrong, yet the word to leave his mouth was ideal.

---------------------------------

Sneaks and Defenders

The radio tower's main hall was utterly abandoned. There wasn't even anyone manning the reception desk. Nicholas thought it was curious. Not only were the front doors open to the public, the tower was functional every hour of the day. The music playing softly from a radio atop the desk proved as much. Nicholas recognized the song, though he was blanking on the title. As he attempted to remember, he glanced idly upwards, where he met a rather surprising delay of ceiling. It was far higher up than he would have expected, all the way at the top of the building. Between that and the main hall, all the tower's floors were visible, if indeed one could call them floors. Certainly, there were two elevators that looked as if they could reach each level. There must've been a stairway somewhere as well, he realized. Rooms were lined along the walls above them, a hexagonal path circling around each floor to connect the doors. It reminded him of walkways he'd see in the factory. Were it not for the railings, one could fall straight into the main hall.

This situation only accounted for the first five floors, as everything above that was simply blank wall. Filler of sorts, interrupted only by the vertical track of the elevator. While the tower appeared to have no use for more rooms, it did require height. If Nicholas had his radio knowledge in order- a notion of which he was doubtful- the antenna wouldn't work even half as well if it were on the top of a mere six floor building.

Most Suffitians would consider the inside of this tower to be a travesty of architecture. Nicholas was one of those Suffitians.

Jesseminah halted near the desk, her eyes sweeping the hall. She must've expected someone to be present as well. Her arm came to rest on the wooden surface as if she were perfectly content to wait, only to lose her patience within seven seconds' time and back away from the desk again. Ugh, where is everyone?

Perhaps the receptionist is taking a break? he guessed, though with Jesseminah's question came some of his own. What of the two shady individuals from earlier? Were they to blame? ...No, that was nothing more than paranoia.

Jesseminah hummed thoughtfully. I suppose we'll have to wait. I don't think they would appreciate it if we use the elevator without permission.

Almost a minute had passed in silence before her hand moved towards the radio's volume dial, perhaps hoping it would capture the attention of the receptionist. Still, she retracted it with a start when her fingers were inches away from their goal. Not that it was strange; Nicholas had jumped in alarm as well, as a loud crash had sounded from somewhere nearby. It was followed by someone shouting in an exasperated tone of voice. "Careful, you idiot," the words were.

Nicholas watched as Jesseminah eased herself from shock back into mild curiosity. Her gaze was now locked on the direction of the noise, a door behind the desk. It was ajar. He knew what she was going to do even before she'd moved her feet and a cold chill ran down his spine. Memories obscured his mind as if they were forming a thick smog, swirling unnaturally to disorient him further. Through it all, his thoughts stumbled from one assumption to another. This had happened before. This was bad. They shouldn't investigate. They should leave.

Jesseminah, he hissed, careful to keep his voice as