Confined By The Fog (Short Story)

I wrote a story set on a world called New Bantera nearly two weeks ago at this stage, and here's a continuation of it.

Lights On The Catwalk, There's a link to it if you'd like to check it out.

Source

       Kolin Ratdez sat in silence staring a the wall. There was a constant sound of ticking from a nearby clock. He would look at it, read the time, turn away for what felt like an eternity, look back, and the time would remain the same. 10:27.

       "10:27, I'm seriously late. When are those stupid lights going to change?" Kolin moaned as he leaned back, sinking into his seat.

       "Oh, that? Heh, times wrong. Ran out of batteries so I just set it to my favourite time of day," The old Beskin's voice trailed off as he stared at the clock knowingly and let out a slight grin.

       "What!? Why?" Kolin shouted as he launched from the couch. "What's that ticking?"

       The man shrugged and took a long swig from his glass. The fumes of the drink were potent and he felt as though he was getting drunk just by the smell of it.

       "Ticking?" The Beskin asked, as his eyes darted around the room. "Oh, that's probably the old ticker. Been meaning to get it looked at, just haven't been around to see my ripper-doc."

       "I have to go, the longer I take, the worse it will be," Kolin said as he started to bite his thumbnail. Lost in thought he gnawed at it and bit too close to the skin. He could taste the iron in his blood. The sting was enough to take his mind off his issues for a moment.

       "Sit yourself down. Try to stay calm, there's no point getting stressed over nothing," the Beskin said as he stood up and walked to the kitchen area, mumbling to himself.

       "There is a point! If I lose this job, then that's it for me. I'll be dropped a level or two, and then what? Get lost in the race back here, waste a few more years of my life? Miss my shot at getting high up enough to not need one of these stupid masks." Kolin folded his arms and looked down at his breather attached to his belt. Then his gaze fell to the clutter in the room.

       "You're not one of them, are you? A level hopper? What's the point of it exactly?" The Beskin asked as he poured himself another drink.

       Kolin stared at the back of his head, and couldn't help but notice some of the fur that covered his entire body was missing in parts. The fur that the Beskin had left was matted, old, and greasy.

       "What's the point?" Kolin asked, lost in the question. "The point is to try and get out of here. To stop living in the shadows. To maybe feel the sunlight and breathe fresh air."

       "It's a long way up, and too far for most to reach. You can get lucky, win some big money, work hard enough, save enough. It's pointless really, especially when you realise that there's not much hope for people like us." He replied, leaving the words to bounce around Kolin's head for a few moments.

       The silence in the room built. Kolin could only stare around the place. There were old magazines in stacks, old food wrappers, and empty bottles. Nothing of value at all, just husks and old paper.

       "Us? We're not the same." Colin replied, and once he looked around a second more he sat down, allowing his face to get lost as he buried it in the palms of his hands.

       "Oh, we are. We're the same. All of us." Kolin raised his head to see the old Beskin standing in the room, glass in hand. "All of them, every one of them. Below. Above. On the same level. It doesn't matter, no. We're all in the same boat. We're told to work. Get a job. Yeah. Earn your keep, and keep on buying stuff we don't need. Show the rest of New Bantera we're better. Oh, look what I got. This new piece of tech, this fancy morsel of food. Foods great and all, but it all comes out as shit in the end." He started giggling maniacally to himself.

       Kolin started laughing, but not with the man. At him. "You're not right, are you? Not well." Then he tapped his temple while watching the Beskin. "Up here." He said after a brief pause. "You've gone a bit misty. What was it? Over-exposure?"

       The man shook his head, took a sip, and walked around the chair in the centre of the room.

       "What then? The drink, is that why you're a bit, you know?" Kolin waved a hand at the dishevelled wreck pacing the room as he stood up. The man shook his head once more, laughing under his breath. "What then?"

       "I was not right long before drinking this stuff." The owner of the flat said as he took a long glance at the glass in his hand. "I could tell you some stuff. The type of stuff that you wouldn't hear out there."

       Kolin thought about it and figured it would be a good way to pass some more time. Get lost for a little while in the head of a nut. He took in a breath, parted his lips, and was about to ask.

       Before getting a single word out he heard the familiar sound of the alarm and stared at the window. Kolin rushed to it to look outside and saw that the lights had turned red. He waited a few more moments and saw that the mist dissipated rapidly. The familiar shine from the billboards across the gap came back. Another alarm sounded, and the lights changed to orange.

       "Well, I guess that's it. Thanks for your help, but I better get going," Kolin said as he looked over at the Beskin. He seemed slightly disappointed that he couldn't share his tales. But, rather than speak he just took in a long drink.

       With his mask equipped, he opened the door. Before walking out through it though, he turned back to the owner - the person who potentially saved his life - and gave him a nod. It was a non-verbal thank you, and he got one back in return.