CHAPTER 18: Premier Jour de L'Automne

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When from the window he saw his son returning to the Usine with a change of clothes and a demolished expression on his face, Alexis's father had confirmation that he had gone off to do something strange. He followed him with his gaze as he crossed the hallway and reached the bathroom, and then came out in his work shirt. He greeted him by raising his eyebrows as he came into the hall from where he had taken his leave earlier.

"Hello, Dad," he said, then stooped awkwardly to resume his task.

<<I'm done there>> his father intervened.

"Then I'll move on to something else."

The boy straightened up and turned his back on him, reaching for a tangle of wires in the corner of the room. The man left his tools on the floor and joined him.

<<Alexis, where have you been? >>

The son stiffened suddenly.

"Out for a walk, I told you."

<<Have you been seeing anyone?>>

Alexis looked his father fixedly in the eyes to catch any trace of awareness in him: no, he did not know. He held back a sigh of relief.

"No dad, I felt sick and went for a walk, that's all. I'd better go again though, if you're going to accuse me-"

<<That's enough.>>

The boy merely looked at him.

<<I know you, I can tell you're lying. You've done something strange, I bet: you've been seeing a girl, or some no-good.>>

"You are the same as my mother, I should have realized it earlier. You are the same."

<<Don't try to change the subject! You have to tell me where you went during working hours.>>

Alexis hurriedly gathered his stuff, accidentally dropping a screwdriver and a box of screws; as if his father did not exist, he went toward the bathroom to retrieve his backpack. The man's hand grabbed his arm, blocking him.

"Get off me!"

The tug he gave was too strong for the man to maintain his grip: without looking back he ran toward the bathroom. He felt dozens of stares on him, and surely among them was his father's - but what did he care? He was so confused that he thought he had bigger problems at that moment.

Alexis walked out of the Usine knowing two things: that he would wait until the agreed upon time to reach Helix, and that he would not spend his remaining time somewhere where no one unwanted would find him. Carrying only his own clothes, some water and a sandwich, he thought about where he might go.

People on the street, dressed in starched jackets and embroidered dresses, were whispering among themselves if the one who was passing by was not by any chance the son of that famous family who lived across the little bridge in the affluent neighborhood; what was he doing with a white shirt rolled up on his elbows and a backpack blackened by boiler smoke?

Alexis ignored those whispers, pretending not to realize it. The signs of the bars and taverns begged him to stop for a drink, the carriages that cut him off invited him to stop and think; he, however, walked straight, stubbornly, along that old road whose end no one seemed to have ever seen, seeking a refuge that would welcome him without asking anything in return.

He stopped only when his feet began to ache. With an amazement that he did not let even himself see, he noticed that everywhere he looked, he had walked far enough to come to a deserted place. Down the street, behind him, streams of people were pouring through the stores, but there was no one there. In front of him, gloomy, dilapidated, semi-abandoned buildings stood as the old working-class neighborhood, built long before the Usine Vintage got the housing in which his father was also fortunate enough to live. Alexis twisted his mouth. From wood they had moved on to iron and concrete, but the working conditions were the same as centuries before.

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