88 Cedar Road

On a cold, wet street that led to the busy town-centre of a modernised ancient city, a man sat huddled up against the graffiti-covered red-brick wall of a giant building. Under the lamp that revealed his unshaven frowning face in the evening, he clutched his sleeping bag tightly. He did not once ask anyone for money as they passed by, ignoring him, looking down or the other way. He hoped someone would help, but no one did, so he accepted his miserable state and the fate that awaited him.

A tall, well-dressed man in a dark coat that even covered most of his legs, approached. The sickly looking homeless man paid no attention, even when the passer-by stopped right beside him. He was just trying not to shiver too much when the icy wind blew past on its way to the town square.
“Please excuse, what you like to eat and drink? I buy and bring you,” said the man with a foreign accent.
The homeless man looked up but did not instantly know how to respond.
“You… speak English?”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” He was in shock. “You don’t… have to do that… It’s too much. …
Thank you, though,” he said reluctantly, stuttering his speech nervously. His voice was much deeper than that of the stranger.
“Nonsense!” he said in an elongated fashion that started in a somewhat high pitch, “I insist! What you want?”
“Um…” He sighed. “Okay. Thank you! A… sandwich?” he shrugged his shoulders sluggishly, “Please. … I’m not allergic to anything. And some juice? … If that’s okay,” he glanced down in sorrow.
“No problems! I return soon!” he replied as he began to walk into the town centre with his hands tightly packed in his jacket pockets.
The homeless man did not think he would see his visitor again. He hugged his sleeping bag even tighter.

“Here you go,” the kind man said upon his return, clutching a hoard surely larger than necessary. “Hey, wake up. Unless you are not so hungry.” He sat beside the homeless man who began to stir.
“Sorry! Hi! I can’t believe you actually came back. No offence, this just doesn’t exactly happen every day.” He sat up.
“No problem. Here, eat!” He chomped into his own meatball-filled sandwich.
“Thank you so much! … I don’t know what to say.” He tentatively took the paper bag being handed to him, and peeked inside.
“No, no, do not worry yourself. Tell me, what is your name, friend?”
“I’m Peter. What’s your name?” he replied with positivity as he reached into the bag and pulled out a warm paper-wrapped sandwich.
“I am Viktor. How did you come to these terrible times, Peter?”
“Where do I begin?!” Peter sighed and shook his head.
“Tell me! I want to know.”
Peter paused. Then, without looking at Viktor, he said, “I had a job, a girlfriend,
friends, a house… First I lost my job in the financial crash. After I couldn’t find another job, I couldn’t afford to pay my rent with just benefits, so I was evicted. The benefits office don’t like it if you’re homeless, even briefly, so I lost all of my income and went bankrupt. My girlfriend left me, and my friends didn’t want me to keep crashing on their sofas, so I had nowhere else to turn except the street. When you’re homeless, it’s very difficult to get back on your feet because you have no way of doing anything. Everything is taken from you, just because you have no place to live. At least if I could get benefits, I would be able to maybe find somewhere to live. Even just a caravan or a tent! Somewhere to let me have a chance. I think I deserve a chance.”
“Of course you do!”
“So that’s it. That’s why I’m here on the street, slowly starving.” Peter opened his sandwich and took a bite. He felt so hungry, yet his hunger made him feel unwell, with no energy or motivation. Eating was becoming less and less familiar to his body which was consuming itself, making him become very skinny. He was trapped, constantly diminishing.
Viktor nodded sternly. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “I have position. You come for interview. Maybe… you get job.” He opened his can of soda and took a large sip.
“Really?” Peter replied in disbelief.
“Sure. Why not?! I help you, you help me by filling job spot. Win-win, huh?” He put his paper rubbish into the paper bag Peter was still holding, and stood up.
Peter could not believe what was happening. He felt the first ray of hope he had experienced in a very long time.
“Come, let’s go.”
“Now?! Isn’t it late? I mean, I don’t mind, obviously,” he looked around at all that he had. “Aren’t you on your way home?”
“Don’t worry about me. I stay to help. We do interview in morning. You come now, I put you in hotel, you get clean, go to shop, get clothes, I see you in morning.”
Peter did not know what to say. He realised he still had not responded, “Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much! I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping me. The food… Everything!”
“No, no, it is fine. No need to thank. I help you, you help me. Huh?!” He made a gesture with his hands, turning them, palms upward.

As they entered the hotel, Viktor said, “Wait.” He walked casually over to the reception desk, and, after a minute or so, he invited Peter, who was clutching his belongings, to be escorted by a member of staff who was waiting with a big smile on his face to greet Peter.
Viktor said, “See you in morning. Everything you need will be in room.”
Peter replied humbly, “Thank you so much, Viktor. I don’t know what to say.” “Nonsense! It is my pleasure. Enjoy!” He walked away, back into the drizzling rain. Peter, wide eyed, followed the immaculately dressed staff-member to a pristine room.
“Enjoy your stay, Mr Peter!” He had an accent, different to Viktor’s, and a high-
pitched voice, but spoke very clearly. He passed Peter his access card.
“Thank you!” Peter said, feeling like he was in a dream.
Inside, Peter placed his sleeping bag on the floor and sat on the king-sized double bed that was covered in white bedding. It was so comfortable and relieving. He felt a wave of emotion which caused tears to shed from his weary eyes. He noticed a card with a pin number written on a piece of paper beside it, upon the side table nearest him. Knowing that he would likely fall asleep if he lay down, he stood up again and went to the en suite bathroom. He turned the bath’s hot tap on, and felt the water. It nearly instantly flowed out piping hot. He was overwhelmed with joy. He saw shaving cream and a razor, and got to work. Glancing in the mirror straight ahead on the white wall, his face was filthy and rugged. His beard was dirty and mangy. It was difficult to shave the hair off, but he spotted a tiny pair of scissors. Once he finished shaving, he carefully stepped into the prepared bath water. It was perfectly hot. He sat down gradually, felt a rush of emotion that caused the greatest sensation of relief, and then started to cry quietly. As the tears drained into the water that enveloped him, his feeling reverted to happiness, and he began washing himself.

When he was eventually satisfied that he had spent more than enough time soaking in the water as if it were a spa, he returned to the bedroom wearing a large white towel. He felt embarrassed knowing he would have to walk into shops dressed in dirty clothes. No bath could rectify that look or smell. He opened the wardrobe and found a black robe to put on in place of the towel. On the bottom of the wardrobe were some other clothes, complete with everything including shoes of various sizes. Peter frowned in confusion and wonderment, but then shrugged it off and picked out the right sizes. Once he was dressed in his new casual clothing, he grabbed both cards and left the hotel, looking and feeling fresh as he strolled to the shops.

The next morning, Peter woke up very early to the alarm, warm and comfortable in the big, soft, clean bed. He felt energised, and while he did not want to get out of bed from under the thick duvet, with the plump pillows beneath his head making him feel, at last, like he could relax, he remembered the interview, so he instantly got himself up and focused with the first surge of enthusiasm he had felt in a very long time.

He finished getting ready as he drank the remainder of his hot coffee. Nervous, he left his room, checked out at reception, and hastily made his way to the address Viktor had given him, after leaving his sleeping bag, which was wrapped around the other items he owned, in the lobby as he was told he could.

Looking smart in his brand-new black suit, he approached Cedar Road. It seemed like any other ordinary street, with dull buildings lining either edge. He found building number 88, and pushed the heavy glass door open. There was no receptionist; only a white sign straight ahead on the shiny white wall, listing the building’s numerous floors, and two elevators to the right of the sign. Peter stepped into the conveniently open elevator and selected the option Viktor had instructed him to choose.

Before he knew it, he reached his destination. The elevator doorway gently slid open. Peter cautiously exited. He glanced around. The room was empty. A loud beeping noise bellowed from somewhere, making Peter jump in shock.
“Peter, come through,” a robotic, female-sounding, voice announced.
A door that Peter had not been able to locate, opened, directly in front of him. The grey wall seemed to give way as if it were the wall itself that shifted. In the room on the other side, Viktor was seated behind a grand desk, accompanied by two intimidating men standing either side. All three wore plain black suits.
Viktor said, “Come in, Peter, come in,” simultaneously gesturing appropriately with his left hand, “Have a seat.”
Peter entered, upon which the doors shut swiftly behind him. “Hi, Viktor. How are you?” He glanced fleetingly at the other two men who stood solemnly still.
“Ah, I am fine, thank you. And yourself? Did you get good rest?”
Peter hesitated, nervously nodding, “Yes, thank you.” He sat down on a black leather chair, directly opposite Viktor.
“Excellent! Let’s get to it. You wanna work, huh?”
Peter was unsure of the question, but nodded, “Yeh! And I’ll work hard. I won’t let you down!”
“Ah, relax, Peter, this just formality. You wanna work? I give job. Simple!”
Peter was confused, but tried not to show it. He hesitated, “Do… I have the job?” he asked hopefully.
“Yah! Of course! What, I’m not gonna help a homeless guy? Huh?” he looked at each of his colleagues, who returned the momentary stare and said, “Of course, Boss!” in turn, sounding similar to Viktor who continued, “Yah! Come on!” Viktor turned back to Peter and said, “No offence,” holding up his hands in a peaceful manner.
Peter replied, “Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Relax! Peter, you’re hired!” he sharply waved his hands upwards and stood up, holding his right hand out.
Peter paused, and thought it couldn’t be true, “Really?! Just like that?”
“Yah! What, you don’t want job?”
“No – I mean – yah – yes! Please! I’ll take it! … When do I start?” He stood up and
shook Viktor’s hand firmly.
Viktor shrugged and frowned, “Right now?” He subtly pointed to the two men by his sides, then in some other direction. “Follow my men. They show you new work.”
Peter hesitated. “Okay.” He was still trying to process everything, but walked
towards the door on the right through which the two men had already disappeared. Peter stopped and faced Viktor, “Thank you, Viktor! You don’t know what this means to me. I don’t know how to thank you for helping me.” Peter appeared sad, though determined.
“It is okay,” Viktor replied, holding up his right hand as if to tell Peter to stop talking. “Go with my men now.” He coldly turned away from Peter.
Peter felt oddly uneasy, but made himself forget about it. He said nothing more and followed Viktor’s instructions.
The door slid closed behind Peter, and sounded as if it locked. Peter ignored it. The room was dark and eerie, with only a few dim lamps shining. The two men stopped by another door further ahead. They opened it and one of them said, “This way.”
Peter was uncertain, but did not let himself worry. He did as he was asked. Once he was in the next room, the door quickly closed. Peter was shocked for an instant, and turned back to face the door, looking through the small glass window near the top of it. He could see just enough through the textured glass to note the two men casually leaving. Peter did not feel good. Scared, but with no other options, he turned around towards the metal staircase that led down and to the right. He had no choice but to navigate it. When he eventually reached the bottom, there was another door. He pulled it open. On the other side was a very big room filled with machinery and a lot of people, most of whom were dressed as work-men and -women, wearing the same blue uniform as each other. Peter examined the area. A man wearing black clothes, who looked like a guard, approached him.
“You! Come! Now!” the guard said, speaking with a very strong foreign accent that sounded like Viktor’s.
Peter was confused, but had no alternative. He calmly followed the man, but then found his left arm was grabbed tightly by the guard who proceeded to somewhat pull Peter along with him. Peter automatically resisted aggressively, to which the guard reacted by striking Peter across the face with a black baton. Disorientated, Peter plodded along as he continued to be pulled by the guard. He saw a frail worker who was struggling to do much. Another guard grabbed him and dragged him through to a different room, shutting the door behind them. Some other workers yelled and screamed when they saw this, but that only caused several more guards to rush towards them and beat them numerous times with batons.
In another room, the guard said to Peter, “Change and start work! One minute!” He remained in the room.
Frightened, Peter did as he was told.
“Hurry! Come on!” the man shouted at Peter whilst shoving him into the work room after he had put the uniform on.
Peter looked around. He was terrified.
A loud announcement was made to the room, through hidden speakers. “Good morning.” It sounded like Viktor. “You are all here because you needed help, and I have provided what others would not. You have roof over heads, clean clothes, jobs, food, and place to sleep. That’s five things more than before! Be thankful for my mercy! All I ask is that you work hard, and you will continue to keep these things I have listed. You have purpose again, now, because of my generosity.” The announcement ceased.
It looked like everyone clapped enthusiastically, all synchronised as if they had rehearsed.
The guard next to Peter pushed him, “You clap for Commander!” he ordered with a raised tone.
Peter hesitantly joined in.
Then a group of guards rushed to one person. Peter saw he did not appear to be clapping, but also did not look malnourished like some. Four armoured armed men grabbed the protestor who reacted by struggling and trying to fight the guards. He stood no chance, and was beaten with batons and dragged into the centre of the room, amongst all of the machines. One guard kicked him to his knees. He was badly battered and bruised, and just about remained conscious. Then the door opened and out walked Viktor. He approached the man, who stared up at Viktor.
“What is problem?” He punched the man with a swift shocking swing of his right black-leather-gloved fist. Blood splattered from the poor man’s mouth. “Now you make my nice clean floor dirty?!” He punched him again, using the other, equally gloved, fist.
The man struggled to speak. He groaned. “What?” Viktor punched him again. Everyone else just watched in silence. Peter said, “Viktor?!”
The guard near Peter slapped his face with the palm of his hand, catching Peter’s ear.
Peter held his head in painful shock, but did not react other than being visibly emotionally hurt as well as physically.
The protestor managed to say, “You… forgot one thing.”
Viktor knelt down. “Oh, really? What is that?” he replied softly as he placed his right hand on the man’s left shoulder.
“Freedom.” The protestor stabbed Viktor in his face with some concealed object.
Viktor broke his fall with his left hand and forearm on the ground, and yelled in a single instance.
The guards rushed to the protestor and beat him without stopping.
Viktor stood up, holding his face. He looked at the blood on his right glove, revealing the cut. It was quite deep into his cheek, amongst the stubble of his middle-aged face. He angrily approached his attacker, causing the guards to all stop immediately, and he grabbed the man by his uniform, near his collar, and shouted, “You ungrateful wretch!” and finished the guards’ job one punch at a time.
When he was done, he stumbled up, then stood upright and solid. Without holding his still bleeding face, he turned and walked towards the door. As he did so, he glanced at Peter on his right. Peter stared back, confused, shocked, scared, and disappointed. Viktor said nothing, coldly looked away from Peter, and exited as if nothing were wrong.
Peter watched as the protestor’s body was dragged away to the same room as the tired worker he had noticed when he first entered the room. Some other workers were ordered to clean the floor, while Peter was forced towards a machine.
One of the guards yelled, “Back to work!”
All of the weary men and women did as they were told.
A guard struck Peter on his back with a baton. “Work!” he shouted loudly.
Peter was petrified. He knew he dared not argue, so he followed the guard’s orders.

Outside, on Cedar Road and in the rest of the high-street, the number of people gradually increased as employees hastily paced from the train station to work, some dressed in suits, others ready to open restaurants and cafes. Nothing could be heard or seen of what was happening inside 88 Cedar Road. Everyone calmly progressed with their partly pleasant, sometimes stressful lives.

Written by J. R. William Marshall

2024