Mr.Chein

The children greeted Mr.Chein at promptly 9:00 AM the next day.

“Good morning Mr.Chein.”

“Good morning children.”

Mr.Chein liked the children. They were always polite, despite the fact there wasn’t much to be polite about. He gathered that they were either runaways or orphans. He was just a bum. The three of them combined couldn’t be worth more than an ant to the world, but Mr.Chein liked how they kept up pretenses. It was a way to trick yourself into enduring the humiliation of life.

Mr.Chein got up and the children turned around and walked in the direction they came from. He followed. The children weren’t particularly talkative. At first, it had been a little unnerving. They were too serious for their age. But he soon decided that they were just like that, and he grew to enjoy the silence. Anyways, he wasn’t so talkative himself.

Ten minutes in, he asked how long it would the walk would take.

“A little less than three hours.”

Mr.Chein thought that it would’ve been easier for the children if they had just taken him home with them yesterday. It would’ve saved them a lot of time. Then again, he wasn’t sure if they had really gotten a home. All he knew was that they used to sleep under the bridge, near his spot, and now they didn’t.

Still, if they had a home, then they didn’t want Mr.Chein there overnight. They were still wary of him, or at least uneasy with him, it seemed. He was offended at first, but then he realized that he probably would have wanted his home to be empty of strangers too. He had gotten too used to being homeless. Besides, paranoia kept children alive.

“Anyways, there’s a certain backstory we want you to follow. Try to remember the details, but don’t worry if you can’t. We can always improvise.”

Of course he could remember. Despite his appearance, Mr.Chein could remember almost everything that he encounters. In his youth, he had scored highest on almost all his tests and was a certified genius. He even went to college in the capital. But he didn’t tell the children that. He just nodded in response.

For the next three hours, the children filled in the details of their backstory. Rebecca and Terry were twins, born on March 27, 3012, to Mary and Chuck Wright. Mary and Chuck were both writers, but both published under pseudonyms to avoid government scrutiny and media attention. Mary and Chuck had homeschooled Rebecca and Terry until now, but chose seventh grade as the ideal time to integrate Rebecca and Terry into the public school system before high school, which was required of all students. Rebecca and Terry were both smart, but had been taught in an unconventional way. They might find some trouble adjusting at first, but Mary and Chuck were confident that their children will eventually fit in just fine. Of course, the children told him more: they filled in some childhood anecdotes, talked about how Mary and Chuck met, and then talked about Mary and Chuck’s own childhoods.

Mr.Chein listened as an entire history unfolded in front of him. He had never heard the children talk so much. He suspected that 95% of what they told him was useless. After all, he doubted he would get interrogated during registration.

Still, he studied the children as they talked. He suspected that parts of their story must have been true, and he wanted to know which parts. He also noted that the children looked happy as they relayed the story. Perhaps it is because the children simply liked crafting stories. Perhaps it is because the story concealed a darker reality. Perhaps it was both.

Finally, the party reached the children’s house. Mr.Chein was panting and tired. They had to stop for him to take periodic breaks. Mr.Chein understood that he was getting old and weak from a life of sitting on the streets or under the bridge. But there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to stay stationary to conserve calories.

Mr.Chein wasn’t sure of what he had expected their house to look like, but he could no longer picture the children living anywhere else now that he had seen it. It was one of those additional houses that rich people built in their backyards and rented out for additional profit. The parent house was huge but empty. Probably just an expensive investment instead of a home, he thought. Perhaps the owner doesn’t even live on this planet.

The children’s house was built in the same semi-minimalist 21^st century style that the larger house was. Both were made of concrete and coated with a light pink finish. The inside was just as minimalistic. A twin-sized futon occupied one corner of the main room and two duffle bags and backpacks, items he had seen the children carry before, were stacked neatly against the wall. In front of the bags were two laptops, both getting charged, and one cell phone. To the left was a half-opened door that led to the restroom.

The children led him into their restroom and gave him a suit that looked worn but expensive. He was to take a shower and clean himself up as best as he could and put on the suit.

Inside the restroom, Mr.Chein looked at himself in the newly polished mirror. He had once been called handsome. Now, all he could see were tired eyes and an overgrown beard. He wondered what he’d look like cleaned up and wearing the suit. Then he wondered if he’d ever have another chance to wear something that expensive again. He figured that the suit was probably either stolen or belonged to someone who is now dead. Mr.Chein hoped that it was simply stolen. But it didn’t matter either way. Mr.Chein didn’t fear death.