Borderline Tourism

Tugging on the threadbare shirt, Aristide scuffed the back of his foot against the cold floor and stood awkwardly in the foreign room and cheap clothing.

Maybe he should have accepted the socks, even if they had one-too-many holes in them.

It definitely was too brash for his soft silks and quality materials but it was mildly better than staying outside.

A harsh curse word followed a tumble within a nearby room. Aristide slowly padded his feet across the small living room to see a mountain of pots and pans being neatly tucked away one by one into a bottom wooden cupboard. The walls were an off eggshell white and the floor a light oak. Dust coated the tops of hight objects and cobwebs hung in corners yet the house was clean enough.

There was no dishwasher or washing machine or dryer which was quite confusing because slum people probably do not wash all of their clothing in sinks. If they did then they would have to own a lot of clothing for the in-between wash days and the time it would take to dry. How did they straighten and steam their attire too?

Harry did not live in a house, he lived in a small apartment block on the side of a rather busy city with a rather small amount of rooms for a plausible living space. He only had the basic necessity rooms and they were all connected together - no ornate hallways to lead to the destination, only a tiny, three-step staircase to lead to his bedroom and he only had one living room and bathroom.

Aristide had never really seen the kitchens back at the manor but they operated on cards seals and enchantment of such. They were renewed every three months by a specialist so there probably was not much to see at all. It never came to mind to learn about something so dismal.

Harry - Aristide learnt - cooked his own food by hand. Harry - Aristide had rather awkwardly found out - lived alone and had no dog or girlfriend. He did have coursework though.

Standing at the doorway, the aristocrat watched as the boy knelt on the floor arranging his appliances systematically - as if wired into his brain. He pulsed for a moment before turning and sitting onto the brown sofa leaving Harry to sort in peace, sinking deeper and deeper until he almost worried about suffocating.

---

"What!" Harry exclaimed, head whipping around so fast Aristide swore he heard a snap.

"Are your ears filled with dirt?" Aristide teased, maintaining eye contact with his companion.

Turning his body away from Aristide, Harry's gaze flitted from the soil to the bark to the grass to the leaves in an unanimous order. The cockroach he had been watching adventured steeper and steeper until it toppled onto its back - legs flailing in the air and wobbling from side to side. The pitiful insect struggled. 

"You heard me, Harry," Aristide softly said, drawing his knees up to his chin and determinedly ignoring the little voice that chided him for not keeping his poised posture. "Take me with you back to the city. Back home."

Again, there was no answer, the air thickened as the buzzing grew from almost imaginary to a faint ringing in the ear. Another cockroach had approached. It pushed the upturned body, swaying either side.

Eventually, Harry's voice cut through the mind like a dagger, "Why should I?"

"Why should you not?" Aristide retorted defensively.

The two cockroaches stood tall as they stood before the root. Instead, they contemplated before they turned left and ventured around the roots rather than over them.

Huffing, Harry's voice faded into a mutter, "I could give you thirty reasons."

A dimple formed in Aristide's right cheek, "Oh yes? Enlighten me."

"You'll get enlightenment when we find you a job to help around. Be glad: Tess doesn't care if we being strays back home and you match the description." Harry stood with his palm outstretched again - only this time it was harder to breathe.

The greens and browns surrounding began to fuzz and fade away, as if they were the only two with beating hearts and racing minds.

Aristide grasped firmly (just how his father had taught him - firm but not domineering, trustworthy but not overbearing) and allowed himself to be pulled up. "Deal, but I don't sleep anywhere near windows, it is bad for my skin," he briskly concluded, nodding his head at the other boy professionally. His entire collected demeanour, however, was betrayed by the lip-splitting grin that displayed a perfect set of teeth that could literally reflect the sun.

"Prissy bitch," Harry muttered.

"Cretin," countered Aristide.

---

"Okay, when we get into the city," Harry began quietly," You're gonna keep your head down, no goggling, no stopping, just getting straight into my place and then you can start gawking about whatever and whoever."

He left no room for questions, instead he tugged the hood of his grey jacket over Aristide's head and zipped up his bulky backpack stuffed with his own and Aristide's belongings. 

Pushing a curtain of vines aside with a stick, Harry indicated forwards for Aristide to crawl through the opening in the wire gate. Aristide exhaled after he turned around at the two story high gate that ran as far as the eye could see. "We're-" A forceful shushing sound and a hand pulling his arm, Harry led the duo into a group of citizens.

Aristide had never seen anything like it.

His surroundings consisted of citizens dressed similarly to Harry: casual clothing or work attire, nothing to the standards of anyone back home with their fine jewels and desire for detail. It was not as if they were simple, no, they were modern, expressive.

Graffiti adorned old, brick buildings and the pavement was littered with oddly coloured chewing gum engraved into the rock as if it were a peculiar type of sediment. Neon signs pointed to shops and flickered reflecting on plastic canopy's in the front of shops baring shade for people slumped on the floor.

Buildings connected via tunnels above were reached by escalators and elevators or maybe even floating platforms. This faction looked far more rugged and modern compared to Aristide's own; it was almost intimidating.

Harry pulled Aristide to the side of the small room, beeps heard across as debit cards were scanned by scratched machines. "I'm going to get you a day pass. We're gonna 'loop across and hop off on the first stop, I'll let you know when we gotta get up so we can get to mine."

Aristide grabbed Harry's arm as he began to turn away, "I have not ever been in a hyperloop before."

Harry glanced at him, "You like rides?" Aristide elegantly shrugged. "You sure as hell are in for one," he smirked before turning to join a queue.

Old Triste ancestors had invested in the creation of incredibly fast transportation but the higher class was to travel in exotic cars. Public transport was germ ridden and beneath them. 

Grasping a simple, monotone, barcoded slip of paper, he imitated Harry by slipping the card into the opening and retrieving it once again, stepped forward. The gate did not open. He repeated the process. The gate stood still as the screen above the slit for card blared red once more.

"Sir!" A blue uniformed woman called. Aristide pointed to himself dumbly. "Yes, you. Over here please," she instructed, beckoning him over. Eyes wide, he stared eye level to the woman as she held her palm out, "Card please." Stiffly, he smacked the card into her gloved hand and winced all the more.

Darting his eyes to Harry (who calmly stood to the side, leaning on the wall and nodding his head along to some imaginary music), Aristide clasped his card again after the woman hummed and ushered him through two miniature doors decorated with the image of a pram and tiny child.

His cheeks flushed.

"Don't worry 'bout it love, happens to the best of us," she comforted, waving him off.

He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the cold would abate the heat rising up his face.

Harry shook his head, a silly grin on his face, "You look like you shat yourself dry," he chuckled. Aristide elbowed him in the ribs, jolting forward and away from Harry's own into an extremely stern man, apologising immediately after.

Hustle and bustle attacked Aristide from all sides as Harry guided him swiftly into a narrow downward escalator. He pushed Aristide before him, "Always stand on one side." He spoke as if he was reading to himself from a nearby sign.

A lady in a long pencil skirt and a matching cropped blazer rushed up the escalator two steps at a time, bumping her briefcase against Aristide's leg and not even apologising. She did not even acknowledge the - practical - assault.

Coils of bright blues and turquoises ran along the walls, protected by layers of impenetrable card seals. They ran into the walls and probably aided the electricity into making the hyperloop human-friendly. It was a known fact that without magic the increasing acceleration would force the blood to rush to the head and explode the eyeballs.

Click-clacking of heels echoed through the plain tunnel - identical to the solid sound of his mother's on the hard floor at home. The tunnel stopped into a long open space, a vast, glass cylindrical shape that probably enclosed the bullet-like transport reflected those waiting. "You get in, strap up and sit back and try to relax because it's mind numbing for first timers," said Harry - Aristide jumped. His eyes trailed from adverts to adults to the tiny signs of magic in every twist and turn.

"Where are we?" Aristide finally decided to question.

"The London Underground, where else would it be?" Harry murmured as he stared at the sign behind him. Only four minutes until arrival.

Aristide's brow furrowed, he tugged his hood further down his face and ducked his head again - if this was anything like the Underground She spoke about then he must leave. Immediately.