A boy clad in tattered attire, his fair complexion starkly contrasting with his garments, sat cross-legged beside a tarred road. In front of him lay a small circular bowl, containing a few scattered coins. These coins represented his day's meager earnings, and their sum would decide whether he would partake in a meal that day.
He longed for circumstances to be different. Even if life's challenges persisted, he wished they were at least less costly. The cost of living was escalating with each passing day, turning survival into a do-and-die affair for someone in his position. Had it been in the past, the coins generously donated to him would have sufficed for three meals. Now, however, what lies in the bowl cannot even procure one.
And he was very hungry.
Surveying his surroundings, Dimm shrugged. It appeared as though he alone bore the burden of this particular form of destitution, as everyone else he observed seemed well-established. Few people traversed the road on foot; the majority of its users journeyed by car.
'Perhaps that explains my inability to obtain sufficient resources each day. If only these motorists would contribute...'
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unexpected splash of water. A young woman had just doused the asphalt road, and a car had raced through the water, sending it splattering across his body. He buried his nose in his sleeve and discerned the scent.
"Disgusting…" he remarked. "It's not as though I ever donned immaculate attire."
This was the world he lived in—a world where the majority remained indifferent to the plight of the less fortunate, where the impoverished persisted in their destitution, while the affluent maintained their wealth.
As a young child, he came to understand that occasionally, the tides could turn for the downtrodden, allowing them to ascend to prosperity.
But...but to him now, all those notions seemed nothing more than idle prattle and superstition. Those were their beliefs, but they did not constitute reality.
He cast himself one final withering glance before turning his gaze towards the owner of the brittle voice he had just heard.
"Hey," came the voice of the little girl that stood in his front.
"Hey," he returned the greeting. "She…I think your mom is not interested in waiting for you."
The young girl appeared to be strolling along the road with her mother, yet, as anticipated, her mother showed no interest in the destitute boy clad in tattered garments as they passed. It was only the child who seemed to express concern, maybe, because she was still little.
"Don't trouble yourself. If she arrives home without me, they'll send a driver to collect me," the girl exclaimed animatedly.
"You are fast in speaking," Dimm remarked.
"I am aware. I hear that quite often," the girl remarked as she proceeded to sit on the bench situated behind Dimm.
Dimm was happy at least, there seemed to be someone who cared or someone willing to talk to him. It could have been, either passing him by, or carelessly tossing a coin into his bowl.
"But why aren't you making use of the bench instead of sitting there?" the girl inquired, her tone laced with evident concern.
"When I was as youthful as you are now, I too often misconstrued the question of 'why.' But fear not, as you mature, clarity will come," Dimm responded. "However, I fervently hope you do not encounter the same fate as mine."
"What do you mean 'why'?" The girl asked, shaking her legs in a jangling mode.
"I seriously can't tell. I think experience will tell," Dimm replied.
"But, you are youthful, aren't you?" the girl chipped in. "How old are you?"
"I'm seventeen," Dimm replied. "But trust me, I have done things that even a father can't do, just for survival."
The young girl rose from her bench and approached to scrutinize Dimm more closely. Her gaze traveled from his head down to his crossed legs before she spoke again.
"Your eyes look bulgy…" she said, and paused. "Are you hungry?"
Of course, it was shameful for a girl her age to feed a teenager. Or, maybe it was only in Dimm's eyes.
Had she extended her hand, offering snacks during their tour of a visitor center, it might have been deemed merely playful. However, her gesture is prompted by an awareness of his hunger, and he, in turn, is unlikely to refuse.
"Yes, I am," he admitted.
The girl brought out a packaged object from the small purse she carried and stretched her hands to give it to Dimm, only to retract it moments later.
"I will give you this snack on one condition," she said.
"What condition?" Dimm asked, looking surprised. "Why would a rich girl like you want anything as gain from a wretched living thing?"
"Living thing?" The girl shocked. "Well, not that I want it. I was just going to use it as an excuse for giving you this snack."
After a brief pause, she said, "You will have to give me all the coins you've made today in exchange for the snack. It's a chocolate."
Dimm was more astounded than merely surprised. His gaze swiftly shifted to the price tag affixed to the chocolate the girl clasped in her right hand, before he returned his attention to the scant coins nestled within his bowl.
"Do...you...mean those?" Dimm asked pointing at the chocolate she held in her hands.
"Yes, what about it?"
"But…but…" he tried to speak, but the words weren't coming. The girl, however, helped him out with what he wanted to say.
"I know, the chocolate is quite expensive. But you see, here," she brought out another chocolate from her purse. "I have two more, and it's not bad if I gift his one to you. So, you can have it."
Dimm slid his bowl of coins towards the girl, preferring to keep her at a distance. His garments emitted a foul and repulsive odor. Hitherto this, he requested that she toss the chocolate to him. As it sailed through the air, he deftly caught it, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon it.
'Judging from its size, this can serve me for three days if I follow the instructions "Store in a cool dry place",' he thought, while unwrapping the snacks.
Without further ado, he discarded the card that accompanied the chocolate onto the ground beside him and indulged in a bite of the confection. Yet, what transgression had he committed to elicit the little girl's scream?
"Noo!!!" she screamed, as Dimm chewed the chunks in his mouth. "You should have read the instructions on the card. There are two methods of consuming the chocolate. Not only the chocolate, every snack has a card with two instructions on how to consume them."
But…was he still hearing what she said, at this minute. If he was, he didn't care, he just wanted immediate recovery—more water, enough food.
His mind seemed blurry and weak to process any voice that resounded around him. He clutched his stomach as he struggled, writhing in pain as he fell on the floor. All he could tell, all he could see through his blurry vision, was a girl who could serve as his immediate younger sister, with her long purple hair trailing behind her back.
Apart from that, his mind seemed to let him hear the last voice before he blacked out. "We will keep his body safe until he succumbs entirely or returns to life. Let's go…mi-ss."
With that last voice, Dimm suddenly slipped into a deep trance, or call it temporarily death.
Everything. Everywhere. Became black.
And then, in the darkness, he heard a voice.
[Welcome to Ellipse, Candidate 160.]