Work in Progress - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

The sun stood high above my head and warmed my sleepy body. It was another perfect day in Astralis. Across the road a small bird dove onto some trash to carry away. Clever little things. Nate took his sweet time, so I checked my phone. The map showed him close already. Once I had figured out my orientation, my head turned left to find my new colleague. 

Nate sauntered towards me, but then again, Nate was never in a hurry. He gave a little wave and I waved back, my smile cramped. Back when he had been my warden we had met countless times, but this was different. Now I would be responsible as well. Of course I had some experience taking care of others. Still, today felt special.

“Hiya, buddy. Ready for your first day on the job?” Nate asked.

“You bet. So where to now?” In reflex, I looked back down onto my phone. The phone always knew the answer. Not this time though. This time, the answer came from my new co-worker.

“I ordered a cab for us, remember? Should be here any minute too.”

Just as he said it a slick, silver car cruised around the corner and halted right in front of us.

“Ladies first,” Nate said with a chuckle. For a moment I stared at the smooth metal where I expected doors to me, and I began to feel my chest tighten. I had no idea how to open it.

“Oh, right, sorry.” The caretaker looked down towards his belly and fumbled with the two laminated cards hung around his neck. After he had managed to separate the entwined cords and pulled one over his head, he handed it to me. His breath was heavy from the effort.

“Your work permit. Congratulations, you're a caretaker now,” Nate said, sunny smile and all. Timid, my fingertips clasped the card. The piece of plastic showed my face, name and new profession. It wasn't like they had to pick my old school photo. I looked like a dork.

A beep from the front made me look back up. I saw Nate sliding his own work permit in front of the cab's side. In response, a little hiss made a slit appear. Without a sound, the door slid up and opened to the space inside.

While I fumbled my own card over my neck, I followed Nate' generous back end inside the roomy vehicle. As I ran my finger over the comfortable seat, the rough synthetic leather gripped at my fingers. The shiny, white interior made me squint, and yet I tried my hardest to keep my eyes open. How else could I marvel at all the wonder around me?

“Pretty neat, huh?” Nate pat the seat in affection. “One of the benefits of your work permit. You've never been in a cab, right?”

Once my eyes had made their rounds through the entire compartment, they landed on Nate's crooked grin. I had made an idiot out of myself. I must have looked like some outsider on his first day in the city. As I felt the heat rise into my cheeks, I shook my head, hoping Nate would focus on his boasts again.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. If you don't have a special permit, you only get to ride the bus after all. Even a lot of artists, entertainers and thinkers don't have one. The big ones do though. One second.” Nate turned his head to the black screen at the front of the cabin. “Andberg, Varcera road. Somewhere around the old theater.”

“Now driving to: Old Theater, Varcera Road, Andberg,” a pleasant, disembodied voice answered as the screen lit up with a map of the city. Before I realized, the cab had set off towards our destination. I looked out the windows and saw us drive, but my body didn't feel a thing. This must be magic, I thought.

“It's different from the bus, isn't it?” Nate bragged. Even as I answered, I still looked out the window in wonder.

“...yeah.” Everyone could ride the bus. But only those with money or purpose could ride the cabs.

“I heard that back in the day, everyone used to have cars, you know? Seems like there was trouble with the noise...”

“Noise?” I looked at Nate in confusion.

“Noise pollution, it was called. Cars were everywhere, people couldn't sleep from all the racket... Anyways, the grand mages decided that enough was enough and so they introduced the cab system. Nice and practical. And no more noise.”

Confused, I looked down to my seat. Beyond the leather and steel would be the engine. Even when I focused, I didn't hear more than a soft whirr. Not even the buses were all that loud, neither inside nor outside.

“Well, I guess these things used to be a lot louder,” Nate replied with a forced smile. “Anyways, we should focus on the job for now.” He straightened his spine before he raised his finger, now in full teacher mode.

“As caretaker, you are assigned an area under the council's order. Within that area, you will need to identify any at-risk persons. Those can be cases of someone being suicidal, homeless or violent. They can also be cases like with you siblings, kids left without parents. Once we've identified these people, we go meet them in regular intervals, make sure they're okay. Understand that you siblings are more of an exception. 

“Most of our wards aren't that receptive towards the caretakers, or optimistic about their situation. You'll see all kinds of nasty stuff. Our work delves deep into the recesses of human nature, so if there's ever anything you can't stomach, you should tell me right away. I am your superior right now. I'm responsible for your training, so I'll have to make sure no harm comes to you and that you don't harm any of our wards in turn. So no matter what you see, keep calm. If it gets too much, step away for the time and we can talk about the details later, after I've dealt with the ward.”

“...okay.” I answered in a tiny voice, overwhelmed by Nate's serious tone.

“Well, it won't be that tough for now,” Nate hit my shoulder in encouragement, “Today, I just want you to stand aside. Watch me and try to learn as much as you can. Think you can do that, buddy?”

“Yeah. Let's do it.” My voice had been injected with a hint of energy again.

A ding from the front reminded us of the screen's existence.

“Old Theater, Varcera Road, Andberg. Please exit the vehicle. Take care to remember your possessions. This cab is assigned for the work day and will wait on location until your next assignment. Have a productive day,” the cab said.

“That's our stop. Hang on a sec.” Nate reached over to his briefcase and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to me, but I only offered a stern look in response. We continued our standoff for all of two seconds, until Nate gave in and bowed down to the modern world.

“Okay, you win. Pull out your phone.” A sigh on his lips, he retrieved his phone from his briefcase and touched the screen a few times. With a boop, the digital document was transferred over to me. One tap and it expanded to give me all the information on my first official ward.

'Carlos Oraya. 42. Suggested profession of orator. Chosen profession of painter. No sales, no galleries. Manic depression.'

When I looked back up from the file, the door had already opened and Nate stood out in the sunlight with an expectant look on his face. I scrambled after him. Nate had done so much for me over the years, I really didn't want to be a burden any more. Still, I had to get something off my chest.

“Isn't this file pretty bad? I was hoping we could maybe start with someone less... serious.”

A sad smile answered me. “Well, he's the first on our tour today. I don't make the schedule, the boss does. Plus, this case is pretty normal. You'll see much worse on the job. Don't worry though, I'll be there if you need any help.”

I stared at Nate's expectant face for half a second, before I firmed up my features and gave a confident nod.

“Come on then, let's go,” I answered in a voice of conviction. This was the career I had wanted. No reason to chicken out now.

In order to reach our ward's home, we stepped past the opulent theater in our front and into the back alley to its side. A weird place for an artist, I thought. Boxed in by walls like this, how would he get inspired? As we marched down the alley, I felt the lights dim us and the walls close in around us, as if we were funneled towards inevitable doom.

Up a narrow staircase we reached door. Like everything else in the city, the paint on the building looked fresh and all our surroundings were nice and clean. Yet somehow, I could feel the gloom escape through the seams and spread throughout the back street. I heard a buzz to my side. Nate must have pressed the doorbell, but I wasn't sure. I just couldn't take my eyes off the door, in anticipation of what I would find behind.

“It's Nate from caretaker services for the monthly checkup. You there, Carlos?”

Something about the place bound me, so I stared ahead, no matter what. Another buzz opened the gates into a new and mysterious world. As the door swung open, the portal between two planes was unveiled. With mechanical steps, I trotted over the threshold between the decorous world of Astralis and the chaotic fever dream inside.

Paint had been smeared all over the walls. Large blobs and tiny sprinkles looked as if they had been thrown in a temper tantrum, but there were also clear brushstrokes left for a purpose I couldn't begin to fathom. Some of the paint was so old it had begun to flake and fall off. The tapestry had tears and holes everywhere I looked, as if banged with a hammer or rake. It was a planned chaos beyond any mess I could have imagined.

The corridor was barely wide enough to accommodate two people at the same time, but was further stuffed with easels and oil paintings all along the sides. In a trance I marched forward, Nate's steps behind me. Always ahead, eyes towards the steps in the back, the only discernible way to go. After all, the doors on the ground floor had been blocked off by the painter's collected works. Already I had made it halfway through the claustrophobic hallway, when peculiar colors lodged themselves in the corner of my eye.

My head turned, and I found myself confronted with a frightening force. The bizarre, abstract lines of dark pigment were impossible to decipher at first, but my eyes wouldn't let go. After what had felt like an eternity, I could see it, a glimpse into the artist's vision. A small, isolated room. In the back, a single window, with a perfect world outside, in complete contrast to the chaos invoked in the room itself. All of it felt so foreign, and yet so familiar.

I went deeper, deeper into the painting. I had to find the artist. His desolation. His rage. His impotence. Towards what I did not know, but I was determined to uncover all the mysteries of the eerie piece. The play of color and form invited me for a visit. I was ready to step inside and find the terrifying truth hidden within.

“Calm down buddy. Breathe.” A familiar voice brought me back from the brink. I turned to Nate, a worried frown on his face. At once the walls released their embrace. The picture retreated, out of my brain, out of my eyes, away from my face and back to the wall. Cold sweat had formed on my face. I felt as if I had only just escaped catastrophe.

“I'm fine,” I tried to fake a smile, ”just nervous.”

“It's bizarre, isn't it?” Nate answered with a finger aimed at the painted gateway. “I don't get it, but then again: I'm just some uncultured slob anyways.”

“Yeah, it's weird,” I replied without another look.

“Let's go. Work is work.” Nate forced his body past me, while I had to press mine into the mangled wall. Only now did he realize that I shouldn't have walked ahead. Once the voluminous caretaker had passed, my position pitted me against the uncanny painting again. I wouldn't give the image a second chance to suck me into it's unknowable wonders. Instead, I chose to march ahead. This time, I focused on Nate's steps in my ears and his broad back in my sight, the only familiarity in this outlandish world we had entered.

“Best not to mention the paintings. Carlos gets a bit troubled if you're not careful. Just let me do the talking,” Nate whispered.

Past spiderwebs and over dried flecks of paint, we made our way up the creaky, winding stairs. A tingle in my neck made me look up. High above, I saw the bizarre creature who had painted all those worlds, his appearance as shocking as it was mundane. Carlos Oraya was a middle aged man with his hair covered under a gray, puffy cotton hat. His clothes were snow white, but the ever-present paints had covered him even more than the rest of his domicile. With sad, sunken eyes and a haggard face, he stared down at us from atop the stairwell. His claw-like hands grasped at the balustrade as he waited for us to climb up towards him.

“Hey there Carlos,” Nate's chipper voice came from ahead, “how are ya?”

“I'm fine. You really don't need to come over all the time, Nathaniel,” the man replied back in a raspy voice. He might have been a smoker, I thought. I looked around, but couldn't find any yellowed spots. No suspicious smell either.

“Carlos, I wanna introduce you the new caretaker I'll be working with from today. The name's Brayden.”

After I had climbed the stairs, Nate shoved his hand into my back and gave me a nudge towards the bizarre figure of the painter. I tried my best to sound confident as I gave the man a firm handshake.

“Hello, Mister Oraya. My name is Brayden Rovis. I hope we will get along in the future.” I imitated what I remembered from my first meeting with Nate. Although I was stiff in my delivery, Mr. Oraya seemed unfazed.

“There's no need to be so formal, Mister Rovis. Honestly, at this point there's barely any reason for your visit.” His smile revealed the crow's feet around his eyes. Suddenly, he seemed a lot more approachable, despite the chaos around us. “Please, come in,” he finished.

We followed past more canvas and into one of the rooms on the upper floor. Even without all the paintings, the apartment seemed rather small. Not something I was used to from my own living conditions.

“Would anyone like a coffee?” When I entered behind Nate, I found the old painter rummage around an old cast iron stove.

What a strange apparatus, I thought. It seemed right out of a historical novel. Before I could ask any questions, the always alert Nate looked back and gave me a stern look. Once he had made sure I wouldn't ask anything improper, he shoved me to an old collection of sofas around a living room table.

“Yeah, that'd be great. You want one?” Nate asked me.

“...sure,” I answered with much less confidence than before. To me, Nate seemed overprotective. Didn't this Mr. Oraya seem pretty nice? Sure, his place was a mess, but I remembered the occasional chaos in grandma's old study as well. In my mind, all artists were sloven, so his neglect was understandable. In front of me, I found further evidence for my assumption. The coffee table was covered in disorganized coal sketches on paper. It looked like the painter had been hard at work.

Mr. Oraya came over with two cups and took place across from us. With the cups placed in our front, he leaned back into his seat.

“There you are.”

“Thank you, Carlos,” Nate said.

“You don't want anything, Mr. Oraya?” I asked.

“Oh no. I'm taken care of,” the painter said as he pulled a green glass bottle out of his back pocket.

“Carlos, you've been drinking?” Nate's voice turned stern again. At least I wasn't the victim this time.

“I know, I know. No need to worry, Nathaniel.” The painter lowered the bottle onto the table with a soft thunk. “I'm not drugging without a plan.”

“Haaah... Carlos, last time you drank, we had to pump your stomach. You really need to stay away from this stuff.”

“Nonono, not this time.” Mr. Oraya waved his finger. “It helps me visualize. Just a little. Just until... until I can unleash my creation. I'm almost there Nathaniel, almost there.” Halfway through his sentence, the painter's gaze lost his caretakers and focused on the mess of coal sketches instead. With unsteady fingers, he picked up a drawing and stared, his eyes glowing a bright blue. From the print-through on the back, all I could make out were some wild lines. I wondered what the painter's eyes saw in them, and wished I could do the same.

“So your work is going well then, Carlos? You wanna maybe start selling your pictures soon? Some good stuff in there, I'm sure a lot of people would love to show your work.”

For the fraction of a second Mr. Oraya looked over, before he once again focused on the seed of his creation.

“Yes, yes. I will. I just need to... just one final step. Just... capture the destruction. The chaos. It's always so clear in my head. Why can my hands not obey?” He looked back up with tears in his eyes. The paper crumpled underneath his fingers.

“Why give me my visions but not the talent to bring them to light? Why are they hazy, why would they flee my grasp?”

“Sometimes, the greatest challenges are the most rewarding. With all your passion, you'll get there eventually, Carlos. Though I wouldn't be this harsh on myself. Just keep at it, and you'll make something even you will be satisfied with.” Nate had gone into full consolation mode, but even he didn't seem convincing. I had the feeling they had gone through a similar conversation many times before.

“Even if your hands make you trouble, worst case? You can still leave your work for a successor to finish. Have you thought about that?” Nate continued.

“An apprentice?” The painter's eyebrows raised together with his voice.

“Yeah. The apprentice program always looks for capable mentors. I could get you in there by the next time we show up.”

The old painter leaned his forehead into his hands. As he pondered over the idea, I could see his body lose tension. The thought of a successor must have taken some pressure off the old man. With an apprentice, he wouldn't have to worry that his work might go unfinished. I couldn't even imagine what sort of relief that must have been for him. After a while, Mr. Oraya seemed to have come to a decision. For the first time since we had entered the room, the painter focused his full attention on us.

“Not for now. For now, I want to focus on my paintings. I'm far too close. And I'm sure my apprentice would prefer his master competent and successful, rather than just a crazy old man.”

“Sounds good, Carlos. Sounds good,” Nate answered with a sad smile.

Hermit's Notes: Last chapter of this for now, since I'm still unsure of what to do with chapter 3's ending. I probably won't post any more of this for now, but I'll focus on getting the novel done as soon  as I can.  Atm I'm aiming at a release on amazon at some time in late june. Wish me luck!