If you could change something, would you?
Would you move what has stood still for centuries?
Would you do it, even if it meant starting a war?
Or would you willingly kneel in the swamp and mire without ever having made a difference?
Blind as a cat on crack, I staggered through the balmy night looking for something. I’ve been searching for it for years and yet I know I can’t find it. No one can.
I heard the metallic sound of bins tipping over and pulled my head closer between my shoulders. It was not good to be caught, especially at night. Quickly my feet carried me to the hidden ladder between the old bricks and with nimble grips I climbed it.
At the top, I knocked the dust of the street from my clothes, even if it was only useful for a short time, then I put my head back and took a deep breath. Even though I was only on the roof of a dilapidated, tall house, I firmly believed that the air tasted sweeter up here.
Slowly I felt my way forward, sat down in my place among the rubble and looked down into the night-lit city. Up here, everything seems so distant and simple. Most people go about their regular daily routines, work hard, spend what little free time they have with their families and demand three meals on the table.
The price of this habit, however, was expensive but indifferent to most.
My gaze wandered into the distance, where the houses were bigger and nicer, the air cleaner and the streets paved. There were those who lived out their prosperity on the backs of others. I should know, because for a short time I had been granted a life there.
All the aristocrats, the privileged, with their nicely manicured fingernails, unconscionably sign leases and work contracts without ever having worked themselves. The system is sick. Sick and stuck.
No matter what revolution threatened to break out, it was always nipped in the bud. But I felt it, this time it was different. There is a fire smouldering under the dusty faces of the working class and it is no longer prepared to give up without a fight.
“Here you are.”, a voice at my back abruptly dragged me from my vengeful thoughts to the present and I jumped up before I had to fight for my balance to avoid falling off the roof of my favourite place.
“Oh, wait! Easy, easy,” the person tried to calm me down and took a step back to put more distance between us.
“Who are you?” I hissed and went slightly to my knees, my hands groping for the knife on my belt.
I received a friendly smile in response. “I’m as sleepless at night as you are.”
“We’re not the same!” I blubbered, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “How did you find this place?”
With a questioningly raised eyebrow, the other person looked at me. “Following you isn’t hard and neither is spotting a ladder. I just had to put one foot in front of the other …” A shrug of the shoulders, the rest was self-explanatory.
“What do you want?” I asked still cautiously, you never knew what noble spooks might have strayed into the City of Dust, as this neighbourhood was commonly called.
“Me?” incredulous looks followed by a shake of the head. “You’re the one looking for us, aren’t you?”
“I’m looking for answers to questions no one dares ask,” I returned bitingly “Certainly not for you.” I was about to just lunge at my counterpart.
“That’s exactly why you’ve come to the right place in the rebellion.” Those words did now make me freeze and blink in irritation.
The person chalked it up as a victory for himself. “Help us overthrow the moneyed aristocracy and finally give the power to the people,” I was thus asked and still in disbelief I looked at my opponent.
“Why … why now?” I would have needed the help of the rebels much, much sooner. For example, when I had been hunted and pursued and had only barely escaped my captors.
“Because you’re old enough now to really make a difference.” That made sense, as simple as it sounded, I was of age, blood thirsty and not willing to hide any longer. So I nodded slowly.
The person gave me a big grin.