Dylan went to the information desk and told them he’d be willing to work anywhere to earn some money. They did not offer him a job, but they suggested that he try the market. The market was the building with a large dome, an “open-space” kind of building, where stalls were to be found. He remembered studying this building in the plane that brought him here. Since it had various access gates, you could use any entrance. There were stalls, yes, but he found it very weird that these were empty of items. The stalls were only boards on which people wrote down what they were trading.
By the time he arrived, the market was swarming. He found hairdressers, sports teachers, lawyers, doctors professing alternative medicine, food and bicycle vendors. They sold drugs, alcohol, and even prostitutes. You could find anything at the market. Yet, nobody brought goods to the market. It was simply the place where deals were closed. If you needed skates, you would find someone who was selling skates, then the transaction itself was made in a different location, usually at the seller’s place.
Since the number of stalls in the market was limited, there weren’t as many sellers as the variety of goods. So a new category of traders emerged: brokers who had relations and acquaintances that could find what you wanted for a fee. Access to the Internet was restricted in New Hope, so there wasn’t an online market. Well, there was one, but not a direct one. Ads were posted on a site outside of New Hope by friends. However, it was forbidden to publish the contact details of anyone from New Hope, so only the market where the seller could be found and how he is looking were posted. In the hustle and bustle of the market, people talked and bargained, some quite loudly, but that was probably a usual day.
Dylan hung about for a while, rounding up the place a few times. He eventually stopped near a stall where people were, by all appearances, discussing politics. He found it odd that people discussed all kinds of topics, including politics. Was this a way to pass the time? They all wore green bracelets. He hadn’t yet met anyone with a bracelet of a different color. Resting at the stall, he heard how the government was criticized for the excessive charges for everything in New Hope. He didn’t even notice when someone approached him.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
He turned toward the man. He was an African American, in his forties, about 5 1/2 feet tall and looked more overweight than athletic.”
“No, not really. I don’t have any money. I want to earn some dollars, though.” Although his reply had been spontaneous, he was happy with it since by declaring himself poor, he was less likely to be robbed. And, on top of that, he said exactly what he supposed to—if the man knew any bargain, maybe it was his lucky day.
“Yeah. There are very few here who don’t need money. What do you say? Do you want to earn some ten thousand chinks?”
What could ten thousand chinks mean if not $10,000? That was a lot of money! What were the chances he could get so lucky on his very first day? It didn’t make sense. Something must be fishy here. However, he thought to himself, let’s bring this into play and see what it’s all about.
“I’d almost prostitute for such a large amount of money.”
The man flashed a broad smile, his white teeth sparkling. He seemed neat and didn’t look down-and-out. Dylan realized that the man wasn’t exactly a John Doe due to his robust figure, and he felt confident that he knew his way around here.
“Let’s go out and talk. Here “the workers” can see us. Did you know they have software that can read lips?”
He didn’t. In fact, he wouldn’t have even cared about that until that moment. Dylan didn’t realize that the market even had surveillance cameras, but now, looking up, he noticed them. So, in the end, while in New Hope, you were followed everywhere. You were not exactly doing whatever you wanted. Rehabilitation turned out to have another meaning now—meaning that they were monitoring almost every move. In order for any hope of release, one needed to display impeccable conduct for a long time.
They walked out.
“I’m Robert, man. Robert Gomez.” He offered his hand. Even though he wasn’t tall, he had a big palm that shook vigorously.
“Dylan.”
“Let’s take a few steps, and keep your hand to your mouth when you talk. Anyhow, try to speak in the lowest voice possible, but so that I can still hear you. Do you know what a bait is?”
“No.”
“It's someone who passes himself as someone else. Thing is, this someone else is followed by some guys who want to put the chill on him. And then he pays someone to pass as himself.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Dude, if a person A pays Person B to pass himself off as Person A. Person B is the bait. How simple is that?”
“What can I do with $10,000 if I’m dead?”
“Not so loud! And keep your hand over your mouth, like me. Not so fast, I haven’t told you everything. Where are you from?”
“New York.”
“Okay. Let’s day that someone from New York, say his name is Ben, kills some fellow, let’s call him Charlie. What happens next? Ben is sent to New Hope. Except that Charlie has friends, maybe even belonged to a gang. Since they are not exactly happy with what happened to Charlie, they decide to come after Ben and kill him here. What should Ben do now? Should he wait for them to come and wash him out? No. Ben also calls his friends in New Hope and he waits for the others. Let the best win, if you know what I mean.”
Robert jostled him, as if his last remark was some sort of joke. Although it had been a while since his life had radically changed, Dylan never thought of this scenario. Now he found it perfectly plausible. Even easy to understand.
“The problem is that those from Charlie’s gang know where Ben is. They have his GPS coordinates. Now, Ben has to find someone, a bait, to exchange his bracelets with and wait for Charlie and his gang to come and give him a leg up. Except Ben’s mates lie in wait and trim the jacket of those in Charlie’s gang. Very simple. You might think it’s risky, but it’s not. You become a target, it’s true, but there are trained people who’ll fight for you. Some of them really pro.
Was it risky? Dylan thought it very risky. Of course, $10,000 was a lot of money, but he could easily kick the bucket. He’d be putting his trust in people he didn’t know. In addition, how would this affect his attempt for rehabilitation? And could the bracelets even be dropped?
“I was told that only the authorities could replace the bracelets.”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll take them off and give you another pair. While you play the bait, we’ll take care of everything. We’ll provide you with food, you’ll sleep at our place, we’ll offer you drinks, women, whatever you need to be comfortable. That is, besides the $10,000 that you’ll get when this ends. We tie your own bracelets back on and that’s all. That’s that. What do you think?”
“I don’t know, man… I’m not that desperate for money… I think I’ll need some time to think about it.”
It was better to be cautious. He didn’t know how Robert Gomez would react to a flat refusal. But saying yes wasn’t even an option. Now, his only thought was how fast he could turn the corner.
“Time to think about it? How long do you think you’ll need to make up your mind?”
“Well… I don’t know… maybe a few days.”
Dylan pretended to consider the offer. Meanwhile, they had walked farther from the market. Now they stood near a block that struck a great resemblance to his own. What should he expect? They all had the same architecture! If the blocks hadn’t been differentiated by colors and numbers, you’d be under the impression that, no matter how far you’d walk, you always arrive back in the same place.
Without realizing it, Dylan was now surrounded by three other men. Robert Gomez grabbed him by the collar of his coat and held him roughly.
“Listen, punk. Do you know who you’re messing with? Do you know that if we felt like it, you’ll be dead this very second?”
His first day and he’d alr
eady gotten himself into trouble. How did he succeed so well? He held on to a bit of his presence of mind.
“Man… you misunderstood me… I didn’t say no… I just want to think about it, that’s all.” Robert Gomez was looking at him in the eye. The others stood upright, hands beside their bodies. He couldn’t see any guns. Their very presence was enough to give him the shivers. And yes, he was frightened.
“You have until tonight. If you decide to help us, come to the market and ask for Robert Gomez. That’s our area. If you’re friends with us, you’re king here. If not, don’t let me see you here again. Is that clear?”
Dylan could now draw his breath. If they had wanted to hurt him, they would have already done it. They needed a bait and hoped that he’d consent to it. But why did they get so hot under the collar so quickly? They probably didn’t want to give him too many details—or they simply wanted to show him their strength.
“Got it... of course I’d rather be king… I’ll look for you tonight and let you know.”
“So be it.” Robert let go of Dylan’s collar walked away with his group.
Dylan headed back to his studio. He took a long route to make sure he wasn’t followed. He was about to get onto the subway train, but then he remembered what happened last time and thought it was better to move around for a bit. After walking for half an hour, he started looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. He wasn’t. He came across another market. He wasn’t in the mood to enter.
He walked at random and returned to his studio in the evening. Luckily, he had the map and the bracelets’ GPS. He obviously would avoid going to that market again. But that would be difficult and possibly dangerous since it was near his block. From then on, he would only go to the markets far from his block as possible.
He hadn’t started his physical training yet, although he was supposed to as soon as possible. There were plenty of gyms in New Hope where you could train for free. In fact, there were only a few types of buildings in New Hope. There were the wards, maybe the most important of all; the blocks; the markets; the gyms; the subway stations; and the amphitheaters where you could show your talent, whatever your talent might be. At least these were the buildings in the poor side of the city. There was also the luxurious area, with villas instead of blocks, with swimming pools, and even restaurants. He had only heard about these. After all, if there were no laws in New Hope, what could deter him from going to a restaurant, eat as much as he wanted to, and then leave without paying?
Lydia encouraged him a lot. She kept him posted on everything she did. She would be arriving in two or three weeks with at least $5,000 in her account. She had decided to keep the bulk of her savings—which truth be told, wasn’t that much—in the bank back home. That’s because the commissions in New Hope were very high. Soon enough, she would be starting her training, which she was anxious about. Due to the high cost of telephone calls, they talked every evening for only five minutes at the most. It was always a brief conversation, but it was enough to leave him feel completely energized.
When he got into bed, he received a message on one of his bracelets. The affable man who’d found his gun would return it for only $800. Dylan thought about it for a while and then accepted the offer. Who knew what the thief would do if he didn’t receive his bounty? Maybe there were other ways to turn a theft to profit.
He got in touch with the ward and told them he accepted the offer. They told him they would inform him when the gun arrived at the ward. Dylan decided that he would leave the gun at the ward for a while.
He thought a little about his day that was just ending. He didn’t witness any shootings or street fights, but, in comparison to New York, where more than half of the population was overweight, he didn’t see any obese people in New Hope. There were instances when physical condition made all the difference. Thank God he had never been fat!
Chapter 7
Dylan found a gym two subway stations from his house, in area 12H7. At first, it didn’t seem crowded, so he decided to train there. A few days later, when he arrived at about six o’clock in the evening, the gym was packed with people. It turned out it was a rush hour. There were about six men training for kickboxing. They appeared to be friends. They were joking around; some of their jokes were really funny. A while later, a very tall guy needed someone to hold his punching bag while he kicked it. Since the others were tired, nobody offered to help. Dylan had been listening in all this time. He plucked up his courage and offered to hold the punching bag. At first, the tall guy frowned at him.
“Do I know you?”
“No. I’m training here. I heard you needed somebody to help you with the punching bag. And I’d like someone to talk to.”
Everyone was wearing workout clothes and none of their guns were exposed to view. Even more important, all their bracelets were green. Five men watched Dylan, smiling. They didn’t find him dangerous.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
The job turned out to be more difficult than Dylan had initially thought. The guy forcefully hit the punching bag and had a lot of energy. He instructed Dylan to hold the bag up or down, depending on how he wanted to kick it. The rest of the men were minding their own business and working out at a slower pace, probably because they had trained there for a long time. After about ten minutes, the tall guy suddenly stopped.
“You know what? Let’s have a fight!”
“A fight? A kickboxing fight?”
“Yeah, bro, let’s see who’s who. Nathan Green, you’re the referee. Let’s go in the boxing ring.”
The ring was a rectangle drawn on the floor. There were no ropes. You had to imagine them.
“I don’t think I’m actually ready to fight.”
“Come on, what's wrong with you? It’s just a fight. If I knock your block off, I’ll count to ten and then I’ll win the belt and a one million dollar check.”
The others started to laugh and make jokes.
“The great fight between the multiple world champion Jeremy Phillips and the new challenger.”
“A sold-out fight—tickets are only available for stand six.”
“The odds of winning are 1:5000 for the challenger. Bet on him and you’ll get rich.”
In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. What else could Dylan do now? Run? He considered that, but he didn’t know how that would be looked upon. What if they chased and caught him? After all, there were six of them. They could use the electroshock gun if they had it hidden among their things.
Well, he could fight only as well as he was capable. He didn’t hope for a victory. His opponent was taller and had a finer figure than him. In regular civilization, this fight would not be taking place as they each would belong in a different weight category. He’d have to pretend to be knocked out and not get up off the floor. But he’d have to do it in such a way that it wouldn’t be obvious. He’d have to give the impression that he gave his all.
As soon as the fight began, Jeremy Phillips rushed at him. Dylan kicked him bluntly, frantically. A man stood at each corner of the rectangle in order to mark the perimeter. Dylan tried to move as much as he could. He eventually tried to attack Jeremy. Jeremy Phillips’s overconfidence in his victory caused him to slack off in his defense almost completely. Dylan’s sequence of left-right blows hit him heavily, taking Jeremy by surprise. He collapsed on the floor.
The room turned silent. All others stopped exercising and gathered round the box ring. Nathan Green was shocked, too. When Nathan came to his senses, he started counting. Slowly, the noise in the gym began growing in intensity. At the count of five, Jeremy was on his feet.
“Shit,” he grunted. “Let’s see you now.”
Jeremy’s blows were more calculated now. Dylan fell several times. He realized that the first round was pretty much a play game. The blows were painful no matter where they hit. His head, legs, and ribs were all sore now. Eventually, a powerful blow in the chin made him lose consciousness. His fake-out strategy didn’t
work.
Suddenly, someone made an appearance, firing an electroshock gun. Everyone rushed asunder. When he looked up, he could not believe his eyes. It was Lydia! When had she arrived? Somebody poured some water from a plastic bottle on his face and he came to his senses. He looked up again and saw that Lydia was not actually there. He knew of a famous commentator at boxing matches who abused the expression “he sent him to the land of dreams.” Back then, he thought it was just a metaphor, but now he could see for himself that it wasn’t. Dylan expected to be lynched and for Jeremy Phillips to continue hitting him, even if he was flat out. But this was not the case. The people who had gathered to watch the fight melted away to resume their exercises. He could barely stand up. Someone approached him.
“It’s not a good idea to upset Jeremy. However, you did well. We all thought you’d run as fast as you could. Come on, let’s all have a beer together.”
Jeremy was part of the group going out for a beer. That was a curious twist of events. After he had beaten him, he now wanted to befriend him? Yet, Dylan needed experience to help him understand how life worked in New Hope. And these guys couldn’t be dangerous—if they wanted to beat him to death they would have already done so.
You could buy anything you wanted from the ward, including beer. However, many people bought it and then resold it at a higher price. He went with the group to a park near a block. He figured one of them probably lived there. The park consisted of a few benches and some trees between them. They bought a bottle of approximately two liters. He didn’t recognize that brand of beer and couldn’t make out the taste. It was much stronger than what he was used to and had very little acid—similar to unfiltered beer.
“Fun comes at a cost, boy,” said a guy with only a few teeth. “Kick in with twenty dollars.”
Dylan had $20 on him since he had been warned against walking the streets penniless—just in case thieves appeared. Thieves become easily agitated when someone doesn’t have cash on hand, and situations could come to blows. Dylan initially didn’t plan on spending his money on beer, but his circumstances had changed. With a little help from the alcohol, the atmosphere had fallen out. They all laughed, made fun of things, told jokes. Everyone said something funny.
The Free City Page 6
