The tallest building in the city was an intimidating sight. Stretching, reaching towards a never ending sky. Blacked out windows, security from top to bottom. Of course this was the government building.
Some dreamed of going in, some feared never coming back out again.
But from the inside, it wasn't such a scary place; for the Time Dealer's son, it was home. Him and his father shared a lavish apartment up near the top; an indoor gym, mini-spa and a games room were some of the luxuries.
Whilst his father was at work during the day, his son would wonder the many, many floors. Stroll into the canteen, up the lift, down the lift. Look out of the endless windows. On occasion, he'd see others kids like him, playing football, running about. Carefree and wild. His thoughts would wonder; what if he was like them? What if he didn't live this life? He'd been programmed to have one focus, work, but sometimes his mind broke free of its prison. Ran free, through endless fields of thought and creativity. Sometimes, the only place he was comfortable. But, he would be interrupted. By his father's PA, telling him he was requested in the office or, even worse, his father. Scolding him for daydreaming, locking him away in his prison cell, but with more locks, bolts, chains binding him down.
And on one particular day, he saw the kids playing again. A football under one arm, all traipsing to a small park on a street corner. A wild thought sprang to mind.
'go play'.
He shook his head, as if trying to shake the very thoughts away. But they wouldn't go. Persistent nagging, 'go play, go play, go play'. With his brain screaming and yelling the chant, up he jumped. Shocked by his own empowerment, but awe-struck and inspired nonetheless. He strode of out the building.
"Sir stop, wait!" a startled security guard called, grasping his walkie-talkie from his belt to radio his father maybe? The son shook his head, and the security guard lowered his walkie-talkie. The control and authority he had over this place was immense.
The sun was bearing down on his back, as he took of his blazer, leaving his crisp, white shirt exposed. He ran across to the park, seeing the kids kicking the football about made him feel something new and unexplored. Excitement. He slowed to a walk, and stood, concealed by some trees, frozen with anticipation. His brain was in conflict with itself. But in one bold step, he strode out onto the field.
The boys stopped, looking at him like a strange creature. To them, he must have looked strange, scuffed work shoes, pressed suit trousers, a crisp white shirt and a tie that had gone crooked. They were wearing dirty football kits, with grass stained knees and messy hair.
"I know you. You're that kid who lives in the government building. You're the kid whose dad got my family in debt."
The son felt his heart race, and timidly shook his head.
"Yeah, you're the kid whose dad took my little sister so we could afford to eat."
Then they began to approach him. His heart was beating so rapidly that his only instinct was to turn around and run. So that was what he did. Sprinted across the field, over the road, and went cascading into the foyer. His shirt was mucky, but that wasn't his main concern. As the boys drew closer, a security guard stepped in front, to redirect them. Hurling abuse at him, the boys wandered away.
The son stepped in the lift, defeated. As the lift came to a halt, he walked down the corridor and to the window, and took his seat. Maybe it was safer from the inside.
