A Dreamer's Resolve

Oliver awoke from his slumber and looked around his small, cramped dwelling. The peeling and worn walls were a reminder of his family's struggles due to the socioeconomic disparities of the British empire. Despite the challenges, his family always strived for a better life.

Oliver wished he could be the captain of the HMS Monarch, sailing the cosmos and exploring unknown planets like in his dreams. He hoped to provide his family with a better life.

Arising from his itchy wool bedding, he walked towards the standing mirror in the corner of his dimly lit room. Oliver looked at himself, gazing into his hazel eyes framed by tousled chestnut hair. He couldn't help but notice his wiry frame and wondered if he would ever grow up to be like his father, who was a burly man. Before leaving his room, Oliver glanced at The telescope in the corner, a cruel reminder of unattainable dreams.

After leaving his bedroom, Oliver entered the bleak living room. It lacked personal touches and comforting elements, creating a suffocating atmosphere of desolation. The flickering light revealed a stark emptiness, emphasising the struggle for a better life in adversity. As the holographic projection unfolded, displaying the morning announcements, the living room remained a joyless backdrop, incapable of escaping the oppressive gloom that permeated every corner.

"We bring you an update from the HMS Monarch. It has been roughly four months since the HMS Monarch and its crew departed on their journey to Mars; we are now around the halfway mark," Oliver overheard on his way to the kitchen, another depressing reminder of the unattainable.

Oliver, though young and no older than ten years, had always been mature and intelligent due to growing up in a low-income family. He had become accustomed to the reality that money meant power, even more so under the crushing rule of Britannia.

Oliver's father, Charles, sat wearily on a worn-out chair in the kitchen, visible from the living room. The lines etched on his face told a story of exhaustion caused by relentless hours spent toiling in the unforgiving factory environment. His work-worn hands, calloused and stained, rested on the kitchen table as if seeking solace from the weight they carry.

The rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall emphasised the monotony of his fatigue. The distant hum of machinery seemed to linger in his tired eyes, reflecting the toll of repetitive labour. A faded work shirt clung to his frame, a testament to the grime and sweat of the factory floor.

Despite the weariness that covered him, a silent determination lingered in his gaze. The kitchen, meant for nourishment and warmth, witnessed the silent struggle etched into Oliver's father's weary posture. The table, once a symbol of family gatherings, now cradled the fatigue of a man working tirelessly to secure a better future for his loved ones.

Oliver entered the room to find his father nursing a lukewarm coffee. The aroma of yesterday's hardships hung in the air, mixing with the faint scent of dampness.

"Morning, Dad," Oliver muttered, his voice carrying a mix of respect and concern. His father managed a tired smile, acknowledging his son's presence with a nod.

"Morning, lad. Did you sleep well?" the words came out of his father's mouth, a question veiled in the weariness of a night interrupted by thoughts of tomorrow's toil.

Oliver rubbed the sleep from his eyes and nodded halfheartedly. "Yeah, I guess." He glanced at the clock, realising the relentless rhythm of the factory awaited his father once more.

As Oliver prepared a simple breakfast, the clinking of utensils became the background to their morning routine. There was an unspoken understanding in the room, a recognition of sacrifices made, and an unyielding determination to persevere.

"Son, sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. Now filled with anticipation and concern, Oliver sat, eyeing his father with questioning eyes.

His father's gaze was heavy, a reflection of the burdens he carries. "There's something I need to talk to you about," he began, the words hanging in the air, pregnant with significance. The room seemed to hold its breath as Oliver waited for his father to continue.

The worn chair creaked as Oliver's father leaned forward, his hands clasped together, fingers tracing the lines of toil. "It's about the factory, about work," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of a decision. "Things are changing, son."

The revelation lingered, the gravity of his words settling in the air like dust. Oliver's eyes widened, sensing the magnitude of the moment, as his father unravelled the details of a pivotal decision that would reshape their lives.

Oliver's father hesitated, his tired eyes revealing a burden yet to be shared. The atmosphere in the dimly lit kitchen became charged with unspoken tension as he began to speak. "Oliver, there's something important I need to tell you. With the rebellion against Britannia, things are changing, directly affecting us."

Oliver's anticipation grew, his imagination racing with the possibilities of what his father would say. The worn chair creaked under his father's weight as he leaned forward, choosing his words with measured care. "Don't worry, boy, I won't be joining the military, but the rebellion has made work at the munitions factory more demanding. I'll be working longer hours. Britannia needs more ammunition and weapons to stop the rebellion from spreading further."

The rebellion Charles refers to started not long after HMS Monarch ventured forth on its journey to Mars, a distant land within the former African colonies. Although the British Empire had the resources to invent technological wonders, they were only reserved for the elite living in the heart of Britannia. The people of the continent could no longer bear the demands and oppression of the aristocrats back in London. Britannia had been taking more and more from the overseas territories and not giving back to the people who were making the sacrifices demanded of them.

As a result, the rebellion quickly spread, even into different parts of the empire, which caused more demand on already struggling families like Oliver's.

The weight of the revelation settled in the room, and Oliver's eyes widened with concern and curiosity. "I need you to understand, son," his father continued, his voice carrying the gravity of the situation. "It means sacrifices, more time away from home. But I'm counting on you to be strong now that it is just us. I promise we will get through this together. It won't be long before the rebellion is stopped and things return to normal."

Oliver listened intently to his father's words, feeling a whirlwind of emotions stirring. He felt tight in his chest, a sense of anticipation and fear about the future. Once filled with dreams of cosmic adventures, Oliver focused on the harsh realities of the rebellion looming over their lives. Oliver cared deeply for his father's well-being, knowing that the factory environment wasn't safe and many people had been injured on the job. In some cases, there had been explosions from artillery shells being dropped from the overworked workers like his father.

Oliver's father, Charles, had already been working an unhealthy 14-hour shift every day and barely making enough money for him and Oliver to survive. Now, he has to work even more hours, which Oliver knew that his weary father would have to work or lose his job. Part of the very reason the rebellion started in the first place.

Despite his worries, Oliver also felt a flicker of understanding. He realised the sacrifices his father made to navigate through these turbulent times. The room around him, once a place of dreams, now became a canvas where he contemplated the shifts in his life.

In the silence that followed his father's revelation, Oliver's gaze lingered on the worn chair, witnessing their challenges. The kitchen, a symbol of refuge and transformation, held the echoes of a boyhood interrupted by the realities of rebellion and the sacrifices demanded of his family.

Oliver looked around the dimly lit kitchen in the quiet aftermath of his father's revelation. This space had seen many dreams come and go. Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirring within him, a determined glint emerged in his eyes.

Feeling his chest tighten, Oliver took a deep breath. He knew that the future demanded resilience. The realities of rebellion crushed his once lofty dreams of sailing the stars with the reminder of socioeconomic disparities in the empire. He squared his shoulders, ready to shoulder the weight of responsibility that threatened to press down on his family.

Amid the uncertainty, a resolve took root within Oliver. He transformed his concern into a quiet strength, committing to being a pillar of support for his father. The flicker of understanding blossomed into a flame of determination. Oliver was ready to take on the challenges and transform the kitchen from a mere witness to a space where resilience and familial bonds prevailed.

In the days following his father's revelation, Oliver became determined to ease the burden on his family. He took on more responsibilities around the small dwelling he resided in with his father. In his spare time, he planned on new ways to help.

Although the rebellion outside cast its shadows, within the walls of their home, a resilient spirit prevailed. Oliver's father, returning from extended work hours, noticed the changes. Now a symbol of their joint efforts, the kitchen witnessed the strain of challenges and the blossoming of a familial bond strengthened by shared adversity.

One evening, as the worn chair creaked under Oliver's father's weight, a sense of pride glimmered in his tired eyes. "You're becoming a young man, Oliver," he said, his voice blending exhaustion and gratitude. "Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed. We'll weather this storm together." His father placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Son, your determination gives me hope for a better future."

Oliver felt a deep sense of pride in that moment. The experience fueled his determination to help his father overcome the challenges of socioeconomic disparities and oppressive working conditions at the factory caused by the ongoing rebellion. That night, Oliver stayed up late, actively planning how to turn his dreams into reality.