Shard of order

Chapter 1

Jethro dragged his eyes open. Like every morning, he felt like he had forgotten something. The bell was tolling, and so it was time to get up and start working. As he slowly pushed himself up off the ground, he saw the other boys doing the same. It was somewhat a relief, to finally stretch his back. The mats they slept on didn't have enough room for their whole body, at least for the boys of about 12 or older. The mats provided the only protection from the rocky, compacted earth, so the older boys tended to take the spots where the ground was softer, while the younger ones had mats to protect them. This left boys around Jethro's age very sore, either in their backs, or their extremities. The truth was that, although longing to sleep longer, he had much more energy than he would have his overseers believe. He and the other boys trudged out of the the cramped sleeping shed, heads looking down. He wasn't sure if any of the other boys made themselves appear weaker than they were. They formed a line as they walked down the small corridor, and through the small 'play yard' that was naught but dust. The yard was too small to fit anything but a cramped selection of boys, so the only thing the yard was used for was the occasional fight, something that the overseers generally turned a blind eye to. Through the yard, each boy took, in turn, a small, over aged piece of fruit. They all ate their own quickly, because of their hunger, and for the safety that only their stomachs could provide for their tiny morsel. Jethro sat on the ground while other boys dragged their feet up to the counter and quickly ate their morning 'meal'. There were seats in the room, but the ground was more comfortable than a sore face by the hands of the older boys, so Jethro kept his head down, despite the dust that puffed in his eyes and nose every time someone walked by. None of them had ever seen an overseers face, and overseers scarcely saw theirs. Their only interactions were getting food in the morning, and in the night. The overseers had to keep their interactions minimal, because they were, after all, a higher species. For one thing, the overseers faces would kill the man who saw them. This was one of the things he knew, one of four things. Each of the boys was imparted with the same knowledge as a child. But that was only the second thing he had been told. The first thing he learnt, of course, was that he was inferior. Leaving the now-cramped feeding shed, he entered the largest room in the warehouse. The workhouse. Each boy dragged his feet towards his station, and soon enough, they were hard at work, clanging and snapping different pieces of metal, wood, and fabric. Making chairs for the seers was one of the highest honours, supposedly. That was the third thing. All he knew after that was that boys only lived for twenty years. That was undoubtable. Everyone knew that when a boy turned twenty, he combusted. But few ever made it to twenty, and those that did received special honours for good service, supposedly. Jethro's job, at his age, was to push the two metal pieces together that made up the base of the chair. This was hard, because often, the pieces didn't fit together properly, either because of the warped shape of their forging, or the rough surfaces not sliding into place along each other because of the way it was hammered into shape. When they didn't fit at all, he avoided asking the older boys to fix it, for fear that they would get angry and hit him. More than once, he had ended with a black eye. Or two. He made sure that he didn't work too quickly. Sometimes he let a bit of a pile of chair pieces build up behind him, so that he seemed weak. Being weak allowed him to surprise everyone when he felt it necessary, and to have more energy than he needed to survive. He concluded that he must be the only one who held himself back, because everyone else over-exerted themselves sometimes, and some even fainted from the strenuous work. They were skinnier than him, to a degree, but he made sure to bruise or injure himself as to draw attention to that rather than to his ever-so-slightly increased body mass. When he had needed, he had lifted things heavier, pushed things harder, than anyone else his age could. And so because he was stronger than they were, he had the strength to appear weaker. Or maybe he was stronger because he made himself weaker. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't realised that the other boys had stopped working.
We don't stop for salt and water until at least one third of the way through the day, he thought. He looked around the room, and found that all of the boys were looking at some spot behind him, open-mouthed. He turned to meet the eyes of a large boy he had never seen before...
Not a boy... A man! A seer! Jethro was too surprised to do anything but stare, while his heart nearly beat out of his chest. The seer stood in an open door, leading to a wide hallway. The mans face pointed toward Jethro, but his eyes were distant. What shocked Jethro most was that he was able to be shocked, or for that matter, able to exist! He should be nothing more than a pile of ashes and bones. Another seer was behind him, this one also lacking the mask that the men normally wore. He shouted, sending a ball of fire flying into the back of the first seer, who screamed and started moving suddenly, as if he had been frozen. He tried to run into the room, but his attacker shouted another phrase, sending sharp blue discs flying into his enemies back. The victim collapsed, clothes still burning, wounds pouring out scarlet streams. All of this happened in only a matter of seconds, but all of the boys had managed to make it at least halfway to an exit, or all the way to a hiding spot. All of them except Jethro. The man through the doorway looked down at Jethro. He held out his hand palm up. Every part of Jethro's mind screamed for him to move, while every part of his legs seemed nailed to that spot. His thoughts raced, but his eyes were fixed in front of him. The man continued to hold his hand out, and after a moment, pushed it further, as if insistent of something. It was only then that Jethro noticed the small multi-faceted gem in his hand, glowing slightly.
"Touch it." he said. Jethro's eyes pointed to the ground.
"Touch it." he repeated. No more firmly, just repeated. Jethro started to lift a hesitant hand, but it was quivering.
As soon as I touch it, I'll run, he thought. His shaking limb finally touched the dimly glowing stone, and as it did, he felt the light from the stone flowing into him, coursing through his veins, giving him strength. It was a full five seconds before the energy stopped flowing, but he felt like it was longer than that. He felt better once he received the energy, but that wasn't much consolation for the fear he still felt with this man in front of him. He would have run, had it not been for the shock that the gem had given him. He realised that his hand was still over the other mans hand, and quickly moved his arm to hang by his side. The man through the doorway stepped forward and reached his hand under Jethro's chin, pushing the boys head up to make eye contact. Jethro, by this point, was shaking uncontrollably, tears forming in his eyes. He could only think one thing: He was going to die.
"Do you remember me?" asked the man. Suddenly, memories flowed into his mind.

He was holding a piece of fruit, his only food for the morning. It was his third day working in the factory. An older boy bumped him over, his morsel flying out of his hands and into the dust. The boy picked up the half-squashed meddenfruit, eating it quickly. That was the moment that he realised that people could do bad things to him. He picked himself up off of the ground. He just stood there.
How could someone live in a world where bad things happen? he thought. But it was then that the oldest boy, eighteen years old, walked up to him. He wondered if this boy had something bad to do to him as well. He already had his fruit stolen, so he couldn't think of what this boy could possibly do to him. The older boy held out his hand, containing another tiny piece of fruit. When Jethro didn't take it, he grabbed Jethro's hand, and put it into his hand. He look up at the older boy. Was he giving Jethro the fruit just so that he could steal it again? The boy looked sorry, but then turned away. That was the moment he realised that people could do good things to him. That was how he could live in a world with bad things.

He was half lying down, next to his station. A twelve year old boy stood above him, anger in his eyes. Jethro had broken a wooden band for a stool for the third time today, forcing the older boy to rework the pieces multiple times. The boy raised a fist, as if to pound his face. Jethro screwed up his eyes and winced, wishing, willing the blow to keep away. And then waited. After a couple of seconds, he opened his eyes, to see a nineteen year old holding the other boy's arm from moving. After a couple of moments, the younger of the two boys pulled his arm away, muttering incomprehensibly, and walked back to his station. The oldest boy had done something kind for Jethro again. He looked at Jethro, partly with sympathy, partly with confusion, and turned away.

He was standing in a small crowd of boys, watching the eldest of them, 'Worker 232', walking out of the door that only the Overseers used. Today was his last day. He wouldn't work today, he would just be honoured specially, and he would return that night to die, burning in his sleep. They watched him walk until he turned around the corner at the end of the wide hallway. At the prompting of an overseers word, they all went back to their stations, and began labouring away again.

"You're more than twenty..." He trailed off. Five years before, this boy had been taken out for special honors for his long service. He had never returned, and the rest of the boys were told that he had combusted before returning. Though all of the other boys had burned while sleeping in the warehouse, Jethro had just used the lack of this boys return as proof that boys could combust without sleeping. But here was living proof that boys could live past twenty. And for that matter, proof that seers could lie.
He killed a seer! He thought. But he was so kind to me before, and he showed that the seers can lie, the other half of his mind argued. They are superior to us! They provided our food, and the chance to serve them!
"You can come with me. You can live past twenty," the man said.
"You killed one," Jethro said.
"They were liars, and murderers. Ask yourself this: would a higher species make you serve them? If they were in any way benevolent, wouldn't they help you become their equal? If they were superior, then they should help you, rather than make you serve them. If they aren't superior, they aren't worth serving."
The man started to turn, but hesitated. He smiled at Jethro. No one had ever smiled at him before. He finished his turn, and started walking down the hallway. After a few moments of thought, Jethro stepped quickly to catch up, and fell into a brisk lope behind the man.
"My name is Bardon," said Bardon. "What's yours?"
"Worker 273."
"I don't mean your workhouse name, I mean the one you got when before you worked, when you were born."
Jethro hesitated. "Jethrokai."
"That's a bit long..." Bardon looked like he was thinking. "How about I call you Kai?"
"Jethro," he said defiantly.
"Ok then, Kai." After saying it, Bardon laughed, but Jethro still wasn't comfortable with the man. After his laughter subsided, he took on a more serious expression. "Why did you decide to come with me?" he asked.
"Because you know things, and I want to learn things."
"Why do you want to learn?"
"Because I only know four things, and they're all lies."

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