i.19 August 2041
EVEN in the future, the "dream" that most people in poverty had always seemed so out of reach. Each had their own reasons: possible pressure, their environment, or just bad luck.
Kevin, the soul that this story is about, just had bad luck—or maybe none at all. Not yet.
At what odds could he be so "lucky" that, with a 1 in 100,000,000 chance, he had to have been born with a rare disease that made him allergic to the sun? To top it off, he had myasthenia gravis, which is a long word for having weak and fatigue-like symptoms in most of the muscles.
He was not well-known nor of any importance to anyone.
He spent most of his days in a wheelchair that was hard to push by himself. Scars were always visible, yet no one ever saw them. There were no friends, or people he had considered family.
In his earlier years, he was abused by both of his drug-addicted parents, and karma sought and got them as they accidentally overdosed before they could kill him themselves. Eventually, the COS and a social worker came to the residence after a complaint of a smell.
With a boy whose words could never be without stutters and mispronunciations, or walk properly, he was never adopted. It was like an animal shelter during processing: the would-be parents would look at each child and judge. In turn, kids put up their best puppy-dog eyes and best behaviors so they would be desperately picked. Kevin's smile always looked upside down and strained. Later, he gave up like the other older kids, even though he was only 11 at the time. There would be no hope. To most, he seemed like a strained medical bill in the making if they ever took him in.
When he turned 18, he ended up getting a game development job that didn't require him to commute and allowed him to just work from home. It was decent and got him by, even with the inflation of everything.
With a lot of free time, he watched TV and played on his Xbox. He envied the people on his TV with a passion, as they voiced and showed their skills. Although it was for people's entertainment, they each got a large check and played the sport they loved.
With the remaining amount of his monthly check, he went to physical and speech therapy. At times, it all seemed helpless; progression was painfully slow. There was no one to encourage and lead him to really "fight" for it. But every day at the hospital's location, there was a small chapel for those to pray—some asking for their loved one to make it through surgery or find enlightenment.
Every day, Kevin went inside.
The man who was half-naked, with a crown made of rose thorns and nails to hold up his legs and arms on the wooden cross, was in the far center of the room. It was fake, but supposedly this wooden statue symbolized "his" word.
Luckily, no one was in the room.
"You leave m-me alive f-f-for this, for w-what? I r-respect your vi-vision, but why?"
"…"
"I don't wa-want to live like this."
To no expectation, the wooden plaque stayed lifeless and unmoving. After kissing its feet, he pushed himself to stroll away from the small chapel.
In the cab on the way home, in the middle of traffic, a man who looked homeless had a poster with a string that hung around his neck. It said something strange. It was New York, and there were a lot of strange people, but this one seemed to call out to him.
There are prices for what you wish to get—are you willing to take the risk?
Catching his curiosity, the man knocked on the back window to get Kevin's attention.
Before he had the chance to roll it down, the taxi driver spoke up bitterly, "No, no, don't open it. They all swarm eventually if you give him anything."
Ignoring the outburst, he opened it anyway.
"Are you willing to take the risks?" the man eerily spoke, holding onto the door now to get a better look at Kevin.
"S-Sorry, I don't under-understand, b-but here's 20 dollars. Get s-some food."
"Don't you want to walk normally, and play the sport you desire?" The homeless guy leaned over and whispered.
Eyes widened and mouth hung open. Kevin could only become bitterly confused and shocked at the stranger. "I- don't k-know how you know all that, but leave."
"Just say yes, that you'll take the risks, and you shall achieve anything you have desired, but know it comes at a price that only God knows… You are about to die." He said hurriedly as the light finally turned green.
Kevin, seeing no harm, spoke, "I'll take the risks."
{Your transaction has been approved} A prompt appeared in the middle of Kevin's eyesight. Cautiously, he put his hand out to it, and his hand went right through the holographic-like words.
"BLAM"
Looking back at Kevin, the taxi driver didn't see the not-stopping vehicle.
The not-stopping vehicle's driver was too distracted on his phone to see the red light.
Although it was Kevin's side that got hit, he didn't die on impact like most had thought. The taxi was now flipped upside down, with the gas tank quickly pouring out. The majority of onlookers quickly came to help while others pulled their phones out to videotape.
They pulled the driver out as he only had a couple of non-life-threatening injuries. Eventually, they pulled the distracted driver from his car too, before the cars burst into flames.
In worry, the taxi driver yelled out for them to go save his disabled passenger knowing he couldn't get out by himself, but by then, the flames were too large to save anyone else.
Onlookers saw Kevin get in the car, and the taxi driver interacted with him, but what happened next no one really had expected.
Firefighters on the scene had claimed in their report that there was no one in the backseat. There was no body. No sign of this mystery man everyone had described.
And Kevin? His story had only just begun.