The sun rose slowly over the village, revealing tightly packed wooden houses with slanted roofs patched with straw. Smoke from hearths were rising in crooked lines. A narrow dirt road is cut through the village, carved by the marks of old carts and countless footsteps.
At the edge of the square, precisely near a crumbling wall, a teenage boy sat crouched among a pile of mismatched scrap. In front of him is a rusty metal pieces, bent nails, and broken gears.
His dark brown hair was messy, and his hazel eyes moved quickly as they examined the scattered items. His clothes were worn brown garments, torn in several places. He hummed without a tune, suddenly stopped to laugh, then frowned as he fitted one metal piece onto another.
"No… no, this won't work."
He said it out loud to himself, then tilted his head suddenly.
"Or… wait, maybe if I reverse it."
An old man passed behind him, carrying a small sack of flour on his shoulder. He stopped, looked at the boy, then at the scrap.
He sighed deeply, then muttered in a barely audible voice:
"Tch… kids these days… instead of learning a craft, they waste their time with trash."
The boy didn't notice him. His hands kept moving. He pressed, twisted, loosened, then suddenly stopped. He stared at what he had made. After a short silence, he smiled. But the smile quickly faded when he realized something.
"Missing."
He said it with light disappointment.
He stood up suddenly, as if an idea had jumped into his head from nowhere. He brushed the dust off his clothes, looked around, then ran through the narrow alleys. He passed by a bakery, glanced briefly at a piece of hot bread, then kept running. Hunger wasn't a priority when his head was full.
The dump lay outside the village, beyond a low stone wall. A large pile of everything no longer useful: broken pots, dismantled wooden carts, and rusted tools.
The boy bent down and began turning the pieces one by one, talking to himself without stopping.
"No… too heavy."
"Oh, this is nice… but no."
At the same time, whispers began. Two women were passing near the wall. One said quietly to the other:
"That's Adam. Is he still living like this?"
The other replied:
"Where would he go? He doesn't even have a home."
A young man passing nearby glanced at Adam and said:
"That strange one… he doesn't have a home. Today with a family, and tomorrow with another. He's been like that since he was a child. He's not like anyone else."
Adam had found what he was looking for. A small metal piece, uneven, but perfect. He lifted it up, turned it between his fingers, his eyes shining.
"Found you."
He said it with quiet triumph, then stood up.
Dust was covering his hands, and looked at the village from afar. Adam smiled widely, clenched the metal piece in his fist, and ran out of the dump. Some villagers looked at him for a moment, then turned away.
When he reached the crumbling wall, he sat back in his place, dropped the scrap in front of him all at once, and started working immediately.
He fitted the missing piece, tightened a screw, wrapped a leather strip around a small axle, then turned the gears by hand. He turned the handle. At first, nothing happened. Then a faint sound came out.
Adam's eyes widened, and he turned the handle again. The gears began to move in harmony, and the small metal piece in the center spun steadily.
He stood up slowly, staring at his invention. It was simple in shape, but its function was clear: a circular metal frame, a moving axle at its center, and gears smoothly transferring motion to a short side arm.
"It worked…"
Then suddenly, he laughed out loud, and carried the invention and rushed to the middle of the village square. He stopped between the wooden houses, and raised the invention high.
He shouted at the top of his voice:
"People!"
The conversations stopped, and the heads appeared at windows. All they eyes turned towards him.
"Come and see!"
He said, unable to hide his excitement.
"This will help you… it will make your work easier! You won't have to waste your time anymore!"
A short silence followed. People looked at him with a hesitant looks, cautious curiosity, and some tense faces.
A few villagers stepped forward, driven by curiosity mixed with annoyance. A man quickly closed his shop, a woman wiped her hands on her apron with a sigh, and two boys exchanged a quick glance before moving a step closer.
One of them said:
"What is it now? Did you collect new scrap?"
Adam immediately knelt and placed the invention on the ground in the middle of the square, then said with a shining eyes:
"Just look."
He grabbed the side arm and turned it slowly. The gears moved smoothly, and the piece in the center spun with clear stability.
"This multiplies effort."
He said while continuing to turn it:
"You turn once… it works twice. Three times. More."
The villagers exchanged brief looks. Adam pointed to the moving axle.
"It can be attached here…"
Then he pointed to the arm.
"Or here. For grinding grain, lifting small weights, even for running blacksmith tools."
He stopped, looked at their faces one by one, then smiled.
"Same strength. Less time."
An old man crossed his arms and said mockingly:
"And you want us to believe this?"
Adam didn't get angry. He turned the arm again with more force. Silence spread among the crowd, but their eyes narrowed.
The crowd parted slightly, and a man stepped forward with heavy steps. He was large-built, wearing a dark coat that smelled of sweat and dust, holding a thick wooden stick. He didn't need to raise his voice much, Because his presence alone was enough to silence everyone.
"Enough."
He said sharply, his eyes were fixed on Adam.
Some villagers froze in place, others lowered their heads. He moved closer until he stood directly over the invention, then kicked it. It rolled slightly over the dirt, the gears hitting each other with a dull sound.
He shouted, waving the stick in the air:
"How many times have I told you? Stay away from the dump! Stay away from this nonsense!"
He looked down at Adam with clear contempt.
"Did you forget who feeds you? Did you forget who decides where you sleep tonight?"
Adam didn't move. He kept staring at the invention lying on the ground.
The man let out a short, mocking laugh:
"Oh right… people don't know yet."
He turned to the crowd and raised his voice:
"This boy belongs to me now. He works for me. Eats at my place. Does what I say."
A heavy silence fell. He took another step and raised the stick.
"And I told him to stop this foolishness."
The stick suddenly came down on Adam's shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Another blow followed on his back before he could raise his arms. His body shook with every hit.
The man shouted as he struck him:
"Look at him! He thinks he's smarter than everyone!"
Adam tried to curl up, pulling his arms over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His teeth were clenched, his lower lip was trembling, but he stayed silent.
Another blow… then another. Some villagers stepped back, but no one stepped in to save him.
The man shouted while pushing him with the tip of the stick:
"Get up! Get up, you burden!"
He didn't wait for Adam to stand. He brought the stick down again with greater force. Adam let out a muffled gasp, his breath cut off for a moment.
The man said coldly:
"I said get up."
Then he suddenly stopped, stared at him, and slowly lifted his head, as if an idea had settled in his mind. He looked around and saw a rusty iron piece at the edge of the square. He walked over and picked it up.
"How about we give the villagers a gift today?"
Uneasy whispers spread among the people.
"That madman!"
"Is he going to kill him? Oh God!!"
But no one dared to intervene. The man raised the iron piece… and brought it down. Adam gasped one last time from the pain, his body is jerking. The man struck him a second time… then a third. The world began to close in on Adam.
Adam thought with a broken breath:
'Funny… all this… because I tried to fix something.'
The whispers around him blended together, then faded.
'I thought the idea was enough. That if I explained it well… if I made it simpler… they would understand.'
A faint smile crossed his mind.
'Naive.'
He saw the faces around him, their eyes were avoiding his, their lips were moving without action.
"I wasn't ever one of them… and they never wanted me to be."
"This place… is boring. Afraid of anything that moves faster than its habits."
"Knowledge is not dangerous. Progress is not a crime. But they don't want change… they are a group of fools."
"I wished I was born somewhere else. Somewhere people don't laugh when I speak. Somewhere with smarter people. Somewhere I don't have to explain myself every time."
"I was born in the wrong place."
The image of the invention passed through his mind, the spinning gears, the annoyed faces.
"I was alone the whole time… even when they were around me."
The weight of pain suddenly disappeared, and everything faded away. Adam stopped breathing among houses that never understood him, in a village that was never ready for someone like him.