The metallic torture device shackled around Freddy's head signified the arrival of yet another unwelcome morning.

The filthy sheets of his bed shifted, and with much effort, he freed his arm from the warm embrace of his covers to turn the crank on his headgear alarm. Round and round, it went, speeding up gradually as frustration overpowered his morning weakness.

The sound crystal vibrating inside grew brighter and eventually—

The mechanism triggered, the ear-grating ringing stopped, and he opened his eyes, greeting the depressing grey ceiling of his room, held up by the tight walls on each side. In the hole where his bed was, the walls were close enough that he could touch both without stretching his arms to their full length.

The only light source was the lick of sun peeking through his shades—just enough to see where he was. Pulling the misery-inducing sleep annihilator off his head, he released his shoulder-length, greasy, black hair into a short-lived freefall and shuffled to the right, getting up from his bed.

Luckily, he was of average height, for if he were any taller, he couldn't stand upright with the low ceiling. There already wasn't enough space to walk straight.

Scooting sideways to reach the window, he twisted the handle. It opened, allowing the sobering morning breeze in, carrying the smell of city-brand petrichor. Finally, with a lift of the hatch, the shades were pushed aside, and the full power of the morning sun, already shining over the tall buildings, entered his room.

The sky was particularly blue today, and the clouds of yesterday's rain still hung on the horizon, journeying to distant lands. Glittering reflections scattered off the floating buildings to the right and jumped off the rooftop puddles everywhere else.

"Fuck this shit, man," Freddy groaned. "Why do I gotta work today?"

The small studio apartment, or as Freddy preferred to call it, the dungeon cell he lived in, was an old, tiny, cramped living space—and the only home he had.

The basket with his clothes hung off the low ceiling above his 'closet,' an old, broken chest repurposed for keeping his things out of sight. It wasn't that big, yet it occupied the lion's share of his room, leaving but a tight, L-shaped path from his bed to the door.

Picking his work clothes out of the basket, the white shirt, black pants, and red vest, he took a whiff of their stench as he brought them up to and away from his face.

He raised an eyebrow. "Rancid up close, but unnoticeable from a distance," nodding, he concluded, "they'll last through the day."

After draping the uniform over the window and praying they aired out some of the stink, he took another step over a stool and entered the 'kitchen' part of his room.

It was a fridge cramped between the garbage can and the entrance to his apartment.

Freddy dragged the stool over in front of the fridge. Opening and bumping the refrigerator door into the chest, he found the stale bologna sandwich he had half-eaten yesterday. Closing the fridge again, he pulled the chair closer and sat on it, using the small cooler as a table.

His seat was low, and he didn't have the space to sit straight, so he ate head pushed sideways, just barely past the ground.

Once he was done quickly gulping it down, he gathered the crumbs into his hand and threw them into the trash.

He took his clothes off the window and a toothbrush from a glass on the fridge, put his slippers on, squeezed between the cooler and the chest, and left his apartment, still in his old pajamas. The moment he opened the door, his stomach dropped.

His neighbor, an overweight middle-aged man with a massive mustache, was chatting with an older brunette woman outside the toilet. The young man instantly looked at the clock on the wall above the bathroom.

6:43 AM

Fright turned to anger, and he marched to confront his neighbor. "James, what the hell, man!"

The older man jumped back slightly, turning to face him. "Oh… hey Fred!" The man slightly leaned back. "What's got you bothered?"

Freddy waved his hands and lightly shoved the older man toward the bathroom. "Get in the toilet and hurry up! I'm next on the schedule!"

The man waved him down. "Relax, nobody will get on your back for being a bit slow today. It's the two-hundredth anniversary!"

"I'll be late to work!" Freddy declared, accenting the final part of the statement to make sure it sank in.

"Work?" The man frowned. "Hahaha, you don't mean…?"

Freddy's tired, angry glare answered that question.

The older man awkwardly coughed as he shuffled into the toilet, hurriedly closing the door behind him.

Freddy waved weakly at the older woman still outside, doing his best to put on a pleasant expression. "Hello, Sharon."

"Hey there, Fred," she returned the greeting amicably. "How unpleasant that you have to work today! I'd quit if I were you."

"Oh, believe me, hahaha…" Freddy laughed lightly. "I'd quit too."

She chuckled and turned around, waving him goodbye. "Bye, Fred! Have a good one! Hope they don't hold you up too long!" Just as she was about to rush up the stairs, she paused and turned to him. "Hey, you could join James and I for drinks tonight if you don't mind!"

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass," he declined politely. "Bye, Sharon."

"A shame! I assume you already have plans, then. Well, have fun!"

His wave dropped into a light slap on his thigh, and he leaned against the wall as she disappeared up to the third floor of the building.

'Plans, huh…?'

As the clock ticked, Freddy heard his neighbor singing in the shower. His foot impatiently bounced on the ground, and he gritted his teeth a bit harder every time a minute passed.

6:48

6:49

6:50

That marked the start of his turn, yet, he could still hear the water running.

6:51

6:52

6:53—

The door unlocked, and just as James was about to apologize for taking his time, Freddy rushed past him and locked the doors. He glanced at the toilet, angrily squeezing his buttcheeks. Looks like he'd have to crap on his break again.

Freddy undressed so swiftly that he heard a slight tear from his pajamas. Into the shower he went, pouring the barely-lukewarm water, despite being turned to the maximum temperature, over his body.

At the very least, the landlord provided clean towels daily, one per person, neatly stacked on a pile. Sadly, the shitty people that lived in this complex frequently helped themselves to more than one, leaving the last few on schedule with a pile of damp, stinky cloth.

Even he wasn't entirely spared by this. Once, he grabbed a used towel and, sadly, ran into the part someone used to dry their genitals, wiping his face with it. Thankfully, as he was on the day shift again, he would be spared such a fate.

After drying himself and angrily wrapping the towel around his head, he walked to the mirror. He paused once he got a good look at himself. Relatively recently, he had turned twenty-one. Hard to believe.

Be it the stress, or the acne scars that spread over his face and body, he looked aged and weathered. His black hair, draping down the sides of his head, complemented the deep bags beneath his dark brown eyes.

There was no time to ponder his looks. Nor did he care about them. In his opinion, there was no such thing as being 'ugly.' Only poor.

Toothpaste on brush, brush into mouth, and a short, furious scrub later, he was dressing.

Buttoning the white shirt and pulling the black pants up, he combed his still somewhat wet hair to the side and donned the red vest with the store logo. After hearing knocking on the bathroom door, he gave one last regretful look to the toilet and rushed out.

Back in his apartment, he grabbed his keys and opened the fridge, taking out the cheap cold brew coffee he had prepared the night before, one of the only luxuries he could afford, and running it through a filter.

"I sure hope I don't shit myself."

Usually, if he were late to the toilet, he would simply run to work. His clothes were already starting to smell, so if he ran today, he'd get fired for stinking like ass.

Putting the coffee on the fridge, he bent over to open the chest and grabbed his brown boots, replacing the slippers.

Coffee in hand, he squeezed past the chest and the fridge again, left, locked his apartment, and walked out of the building at a measured pace, taking steady steps down the staircase to avoid spilling his coffee.

Pulling the door open, he stepped outside and—

"Uwoah!" Freddy jumped back as a large drake nearly flattened him. The asshole riding the green lizard didn't even register his existence.

Luckily, the coffee wasn't spilled on his shirt, so Freddy merely breathed a sigh of relief and walked out. Shooting a glance at the prick who rode away without a care in the world, he scoffed.

He didn't let the disturbance throw him off-kilter. The jumpscare did hasten his heartbeat, but thankfully, it wasn't enough to make him sweat. Thus, he continued his daily ritual as he started the thirty-minute trek to his workplace.

Muffled, loud music could be heard from many directions, and Freddy couldn't help but feel particularly lethargic today.

'The two-hundredth anniversary, huh…?'

"Maybe I'll cut loose for the three-hundredth one, hahaha," he joked, but a considerable part of him was serious.

Perhaps that was why people celebrated the Rift. The possibility of living to see something a hundred years in the future would have been an incredible privilege for anyone two hundred years back.

Sighing profoundly and keeping his head down, Freddy reached the opulent twenty-fifth district. The moment he approached the turn, he had to stop immediately.

"Uh-oh," he said.

There was a fence. And it was blocking the path through the district. Freddy could feel a headache setting in, but he calmed himself.

A man walked up to the fence and casually jumped over it as if it weren't there, startling Freddy slightly. Looking to the right, he spotted a short line of people looking to get in and a guard letting them through.

'Just keep it calm, Fred. You got this.'

The line went by rather swiftly, and soon enough, Freddy waved at the guard and tried walking through, but the man stopped him immediately. "Please provide verification or confirmation that you have business inside."

"What do you mean?" Freddy tried playing dumb.

"This is a private district. Mortals aren't allowed entry without permission."

'Fucking what!? Since when!?' Freddy raged in his mind, but none of that showed outwardly.

With a polite smile, Freddy scratched his head and chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, hahaha, sorry, sorry, I am going to a party tonight, so can you just let me through?"

"Please provide a ticket or name of the person that invited you," the guard requested as he pulled a list out of his suit, and Freddy bit his lip.

"His name is John."

The guard raised an eyebrow. "John, who?"

"John… Smith."

"Nobody by the name of John Smith is expecting guests."

"I'm not a guest, I'm a… uh… an en—ter—tainer? Yeah, I'm a dancer. Of a, you know—" Freddy waved his hands around his torso. "—special kind."

"Sir, I will have to ask you to step away."

People gathered behind Freddy, and he made a last-ditch effort, "Insolent! Do you have any idea who my father is!?"

Glancing at the beans swinging in the bag Freddy carried in his hands, the guard gave him a flat look, then gently but firmly pushed him to the side.

'Fuck!' He screamed internally as he hesitantly turned around, tightening the grip on the bag in his hand.

A few people in line laughed at him, but that was far from Freddy's biggest problem.

Biting his fist in frustration, Freddy walked away from the gathering crowds and sat on a small wall. He wasn't here for sightseeing. He had to go home! Glancing to the left of the Bastard Barricade, then to the right, he felt himself shaking a little, and he had to swallow a lump in his throat.

It was already nearly 8 PM. The twenty-fifth district wasn't that big, but it was a different story if he had to walk all the way around it. If he went left through the rest of the twenty-fourth district, where he was currently located, he would have to add another forty minutes to his daily routine, both to and from work. That was nearly another hour and a half! With his work time, he barely had three hours of free time a day, and his chores devoured most of that! Even that night, he was supposed to head to the damn laundromat to wash his clothes.

Taking deep breaths and clenching the bag, Freddy murmured into his chin, "Calm down, Freddy. You got this."

He could also go right, adding barely another ten minutes to the walk. Now, as a victim of classism, Freddy wasn't a big fan of it... but right… That was the bad part of the city.

The twenty-sixth district was quite firmly walled off from the twenty-fifth. And that simple wall hop made all the difference in the world. Freddy was allowed to say that, given he used to live there. He knew from experience.

It wasn't like he'd get robbed for walking through it once, but walking there every day was practically asking for it.

"Whatever…" Freddy got up and walked right.

What robbery? The only thing of any value on his person was a damn can of beans. And he'd rather lose a kidney or two than walk home for over an hour.

As he proceeded, it wasn't long until the sounds of music grew more distant and muffled. The exact line that separated the twenty-sixth district was obvious, given that that's where the street maintenance ended.

Ragged roads, worn-out buildings, and trash lining the corners reminded Freddy of a bittersweet part of his life.

Lots of people walked the streets. Teens gathered in every corner, and loud talking could be heard everywhere. He couldn't help but feel bad for his earlier thinking. All he saw here were people having fun and living their best lives.

He kind of missed the vibe of the place, but that didn't make him regret moving out. Especially after he ran into a group of three drunk, shirtless men that hugged him, grabbed the bag of beans out of his hands, and ridiculed him, screaming 'boy got beans' and the like.

Thankfully they returned his food, and Freddy went on his way. Beans wouldn't be on the menu for a while again. Eventually, Freddy reached a turn and took another quick shortcut.

"Oh, yeah, this is where Greg's place used to be."

His parents used to take him there when he was little. Which was yet another reason not to walk this route.

Walking through the relatively narrow space between the buildings, he noticed someone had left their doors open. Freddy was somewhat taken aback by how bright the inside of that place was.

The doors were massive, and the light was far from natural. Some part of him screamed that something was wrong, but he was too tired to put two and two together.

It was only as he walked past it, turning his head and reflexively violating the privacy of the supposed apartment owners, that he realized this was no home at all.

His grip on the grocery bag tightened, and his legs froze.

The entire world spun as he stepped in front of the portal leading onto an open field of golden grass.