7 Fruitless Hope

"Simply put, it's not happening."

A thud echoed through the room as Officer Green slapped down the statement back on the desk.

"Sorry but I can't do anything about it." While his words were apologetic, the way he acted spoke of the exact opposite.

Reclining into his chair, the officer gave Randolph a shrug. Any case of respect or empathy he had shown previously had been thrown out the window, his cruder side showing as he talked.

"…"

Randolph stared back, his face expressionless.

"Is there reason you or the station can't help me?"

"It's not just the station. It's the entire government law. Your records indicate that you haven't renewed your government issued health card or passport in over four years since its expiration. I don't think you understand the severity of what that means. You should seriously get them done as soon as possible."

"What does not renewing my identification have to do with me getting assaulted?"

"That's only one of the parts. It's also that you're living in an informal settlement. Put simply, you're basically off the grid. Sure you have a presence in the city, but it's the same amount of presence a homeless man does."

Randolph immediately understood what he meant. The amount of presence a homeless man has in the city is almost nil. It meant that he could disappear and nobody would be any the wiser. Nobody would care. Nobody would go looking for them. It was as if their existence would be wiped off the face of the earth. It could be for a variety of reason, perhaps packing up and moving towns – common among the drifters – or it even meant dying. The only people who would question their disappearance would be their fellow homeless rivals with an equal lack of presence.

Of course if someone worth something made a deal out of it then it would matter, but Randolph knew nobody like that.

"I'll be honest. One of my men who pulled up your file had half a mind to arrest you right there and then because you hardly even qualify as a tax-paying citizen. We'd keep you for longer if we could, at least for a bit of safety, but you've provoked the wrong crowd."

"…" Turning his gaze to the ground, Randolph's swollen eye began stinging.

"Even if we wanted to help, we can't. Allow me to confirm, you signed a contract with the people backing those four men right? Pen and all?"

"I did."

"Then there's nothing we can do about it." Crossing his arms, the officer shook his head.

Randolph also understood what he meant. The people backing the thugs were a fairly infamous group in the darker side of the city, though only on a very small scale. They were known as, ironically, GoodLife Finances, and they had a bit of infamy as loan sharks. They had made a great deal of money from their endeavors, but that alone couldn't provide them that infamy. It was because the cops couldn't do anything about them. It was rumoured that they had someone from the government backing them.

Even though the police operated on a different line of authority from government officials in Canada, it was that pressure along with the contracts that prevented them from doing anything.

These groups of loan sharks were prevalent in the bottom rungs of society, sucking the life further from those with the shorter stick.

Seeing you in poor circumstances, they would offer a seemingly reasonable contract. If you failed to pay the exorbitant amount, then they would come for you. This was a fairly generic method but it worked because it operated almost under the law, utilizing it to their means.

Once you had signed a contract, then it was bound by law. If you failed to pay up in time then there could be no complaints if they decided to take everything you owned, or even force you into lifelong debt. A debt that would carry on to even your descendants. Anything was on the table as long as it wasn't killing or death in some way.

Of course you could sue them, but then you had better be prepared to face several years worth of lawyer bills and court attendances. It would be a long, long process, drawn out purposely by the loan sharks to expend as much of your money as possible along with warding away any punishments on their own behalf. It was troublesome for them, but it was crippling for the average less-wealthy person.

"…" Looking at Randolph's swollen eye and bruised face, Officer Green let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry, alright? But you only have yourself to blame for signing the contract. No matter what, there shouldn't have been a need to turn to such a solution."

"…"

He had borrowed money with the belief that he could pay it back because of his living conditions. He had been running out of money, and unwilling to dip into his stashed savings, he had no choice but to borrow to pay for rent.

He had read the contract and its fine print several times through, and it seemed completely reasonable. Who would have known that they would forcibly change the contract soon after, adding an insane amount of interest? Of course this was illegal, but could Randolph afford that ungodly amount of money to hire someone to defend him in court? They had his signature, and that was all they needed.

It was only until shortly after that he lost even the income to pay his rent, instead spending his paycheck to extend his debt's deadline.

Did he need to borrow money? Did he really? Did he need bus fare, food, running water, electricity, rent, toiletries, clothing, or basic household appliances? Did he really need to sign the contract?

For Randolph, he agreed fully with the police. It was why he didn't say anything. Even if he had been kicked out, or didn't have any source of entertainment. Even if he had to live in the dark, he was sure he could figure it out if it came to his survival. That was all he needed. He had been foolish, blinded for a moment by luxury into signing that contract.

"It's like rabies, Mister Ivy. The fatality rate is 100%, and there's no cure. The best and only treatment is to avoid getting bitten in the first place."

He was right. Once you've signed a contract of theirs, there was almost no escape. It was like a chain dragging you in, particularly for those who didn't have the money to threaten them with legal action. If the law wouldn't help them then nobody would. The class divide between the poor and the wealthy was incredibly prominent, and one could see it everywhere. They were treated as utter shit, looked over by the law.

As they say, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.

"You should've gone to the downtown city's branch. I know that there are some newbies down there that are pretty passionate about justice. I heard there's an especially promising new guy. Maybe they could've helped you, but I can't and won't let any of my rookies do so either."

Turning his head up, Randolph silently shook his head. He knew that they were likely empty words of comfort.

Seeing this, the officer could only look away. Perhaps it was out of shame, or maybe guilt, but his stance was made clear.

"Then… I see." Randolph's heart felt like a stone weighing down his entire body.

His body was heavy and it was as if the exhaustion of all the previous months had hit him altogether at once. This was a line he had refused to cross for years due to pride. But even after putting down his pride and coming to ask, they couldn't help him.

He had known of course, but he had to try. Deep inside of him, there had perhaps been a silver of hope looking at the police station.

Though his legs screamed in protest, the young man gripped the sides of the chair before pushing himself up. Picking up the statement, he slowly walked out of the interview room. Officer green didn't even turn to look at him, merely keeping his head low as he slouched in his seat.

Swinging the glass door open, Randolph left the building. As he did so, he felt the cold winter air hit his face. Its temperature felt as cold as his heart.