Kinck kinck! The sound of mechanical keyboards filled the room, forming a monotone cadence of soulless automation. A computer screen, on it a list of names. Talos scrolled through a third time, the search function must have failed. His name was not on the list.

  He pulled a pack from his shirt pocket, and with a churning click of the burner, he lit one, pulling it deep. Emil came beside him, looked at the screen for a second and patted Talos's shoulder.

  “Typical, I never met someone like us who got the scholarship. I say it’s not even meant to be possible. Now get back to work,” He said. Though Talos never turned, he knew there was a satisfactory smile on his manager's face. In reply, Talos blew out smoke.

  It was seven in the evening when Talos exited the room—clicked on the elevator button. It was on off-duty, and now a winding staircase awaited him. It's easy going down, but when you're on the fourteenth floor, exhausted and with a back pain, it's never easy.

  Finally, down to the streets of the Olivan sector 9. Talos immediately activated his ability. The world moved in slow canter as he lazily registered each person. A throbbing headache made the world normal.

  He then took to his routine, a soda from the vending machine and another smoke. Emil, though a patronizing bastard, was right. It was a lure for a rat to run. Though he knew the game by now, still he ran, for what else to do. After cramming in all the hours, even overloading his ability and sure as hell he had gotten most of the questions correct.

  He stamped the cigarette and walked on.

  The lower regions of the city, Solara Prime, had densely packed structures. A width of two bikes, a car wouldn't pass. No one could afford a car here. A swarm of people migrating here and there, the heat and aroma of food stalls with frequent assault of human refuse. The air stank and boiled in the heat in this dense prison of population. So much unbearable sometimes that no cold drink or smoke could ease it.

  The sweating heat, the bastard of a headache, the repugnant smell and the repugnant people doing repugnant things. Sometimes you just want to tear away everything and scream at the top of your lungs or drink till sobriety and rationality can't find you. The second seemed more acceptable, yet Talos had to get home, had to face his parents and sister and have sense not to pull his gun from his bag nor the hidden knife.

  And so Talos chose the third option. Always the third after daily considerations.

  Talos took narrow alleys just to avoid the crowd. It stank worse, but not much noise, no need to hunt every detail, which was so ingrained into his brain. Such conditioning stayed for a lifetime. These were the times he was glad he failed to be a mentate. He shuddered at the memory of calculating every permutation and combination of an event which left him senile for half a year. Sometimes things do happen for good, although very rarely.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  A couple distracted Talos from his reflections; he had noticed them the moment they came to his vision, yet only now registering their expression and action. Two people, one male and one female. Pain. Desperation. Fear. Exhaustion. The man was not a local, the woman was. The man was beaten badly, the woman beaten and used. The man was from Nova Echelon—the wealthy part of the city, a teacher, and the female was his student. The conclusion that they had been a couple was derived from— Smack!

  Talos slapped himself, closed his eyes to stop his chronic episode, yet it never helped. Information derived from visual, sound, memory and from things beyond his comprehension.

  The two approached, running. Talos punched the man in his face and kicked the woman in the knee. Both fell and Talos caught them and tossed them onto a heap of garbage, kicked a stack of rubbish on them and walked to be stopped after a few steps around a corner, where four thugs came running. One caught him by his shoulders a bit too hard. Pulled out a phone to show a photo.

  “Recognize or seen any of 'em?” He demanded.

  Talos took his time studying the photo and shrugged. The man holding Talos grew impatient and angry, his hold tightening. Talos considered going for his knife.

  “At least seen anyone making a run here?”

  “Over that corner, maybe I —” as soon as he pointed out, the thugs bolted in the direction opposite to where he came. Without a glance back, Talos left, and the couple would survive. He knew it.

  Talos reached home in the Olivan sector 8. A small apartment, third floor. He came to the door to hear shouting from inside. A wife’s desperate plea, a husband acting uncaring. The wife points out his incompetencies, and the husband rages. More loud shoutings, in one corner, Talos imagined a sixteen year old girl, like her father, acting unbothered and resigned to her fate.

  He leaned on the railing, lit another cigarette and waited. Even after some time, it didn't seem to end, so he decided to end it. His presence usually did. Talos entered to find his mother hugging herself, tears had long dried up. His father, blank of expression, holding a paper. A bill, in fact.

  The room was dead silent, yet none of the three looked at him. Talos peered at the bill, which demanded a staggering amount. Another paper was on the table, from the same source as the bill but informal. Demanding that his sister Lisa work for them for a month or so. That was the gist of it.

  Talos, with his bleak sunken eyes, glanced at Lisa, who stared back and shrugged and spoke sneeringly.

  “I’ll work it out”, she said, “This is how it was going to be. Sister Aine hung herself to escape. I'd rather live and knife them all later. You won't do anything, Talos, as you did nothing back then!”

  Talos flinched sharply at her words, noticing, she shut her eyes, expecting a blow. And that hurt him more than any other wound.

  Talos glanced at his mother, silent, yet eyes begging and brimming with tears. He glanced away.

  “Wait till morning”, Talos said as he left home again.