[Xash]

Jobe stared at the gray skies and shivered, his hands automatically pulling the pathetic excuse for a blanket around his shoulders. He leaned in closer to the building, cold as it was, in an attempt to escape the bitter wind that would flow momentarily through the cracks in the buildings. At least there was an awning of sorts to protect him partially from the rain.

Echidnas could boast that they possessed the most advanced society on Mobius, and yet they could not boast kindness. In his opinion, kindness was a much more important thing than television or computers that produced little games.

He stopped himself from thinking bitter thoughts about his people. As Jobe pushed himself more into the building, he reminded himself that nobody was perfect, that no society was perfect. Despite never having gone to school, despite not knowing how to read or do math, despite savagely fighting for most of his life to survive, he could be considered much smarter than most of the inhabitants of Echidnopolis. It was a gift that nobody would probably ever know of, that he did not know of. He could see what many refused to acknowledge.

As the first droplets fell and wet the cold pavement, Jobe thought back to snippets he'd heard from the citizens. He was rather small and scrawny for his age, almost too thin to live really, which helped him hide well when the police came by. He refused to go back to that damnable place they called an orphanage, where the headmistress had beaten him-for she was allowed to do so, and nobody checked to see if the children were harmed-and he'd been locked away and nearly starved to death. He preferred a death on the streets to that torment. The police could never know. They weren't like him; they didn't know what he knew. They merely did their job and worshipped the guardians.

Now there was something Jobe could hate without restraint. The guardians! Oh, he heard well enough what the people thought of them. Noble-born, intelligent, handsome, brave, the protectors of the innocent and defenders of peace.

He had been innocent once, and they had not protected him. When his father died (trying to save someone from a burning building no less), before his own birth, Jobe's mother was forced onto the streets. She hadn't enough money to pay the rent. She had been pregnant with him at the time, not working because of her condition, and sought help at the hospital. Without much money, certainly not enough to pay for a delivery room or incubator, they turned her back out. Jobe, as mentioned, did not know arithmetic, but, from listening, he knew that the hospital held plenty of rooms, which were never all in use at once. The incubators were on all the time, regardless if they held eggs ready to hatch into newborn echidnas or not.

Would it have been so hard to show a slight glimmer of kindness and let his mother use a room?

Probably. Even though he also understood that normal deliveries-and his was fairly normal, despite the conditions of it-did not rack up many expenses and were fairly quick.

No, his mother had been forced to lay her egg in a filthy alleyway. He had been hatched atop cool pavement. And she had died a few days later.

He only knew this story because the elderly lady who had found his mother before her death and taken him in had passed it on to him. She was a glimmer of kindness in this dark world. As he did every time he thought of her and his mother, Jobe offered them a blessing. He was not religious, although he had seen the temples and churches. They were not open to him, so he could not know about gods, faith, and the lessons they taught. Lessons he could testify were ignored if he had known they taught them. But he felt better, in his heart, to offer a blessing to those who had cared for him when he was most vulnerable, as if to say he remembered those glimmers of kindness.

It was all he considered his own anymore.

He let out a low growl as he thought of the guardians. Had his father known the current guardian, his family would have been set for life. Anyone whom the guardians took an interest in was immediately pampered and given royal treatment. The guardians prided themselves on knowing everything possible.

How little they knew about themselves and their people.

The hospital would gladly take in anyone the guardians brought in, free of charge. But they did not take in those desperately needing help, those willing to do anything if only some help could be found for their loved ones.

The police would punish any who spoke of the guardians in a disrespectful manner. But they did not punish those who were cruel, who committed horrible acts of violence and abuse against the innocent.

The people praised the guardians and supported their every thought and whim. But they did not support their own who were starving, homeless, in need of perhaps just a passing glance, an acknowledgement that they were not alone.

They all ignored Jobe and those similar to Jobe and pretended such things didn't happen, such things didn't exist, such things weren't there.

Because such things as he didn't fit the image of an ideal society. Because an ideal society didn't have emotions to deal with. Because an ideal society would be a hollow and empty place to live in. Because an ideal society couldn't experience anything, lest it lose it's image of ideal. There was no kindness in an ideal society, not even glimmers. An ideal society had no need of kindness.

Yes, Jobe could be considered much smarter than those of Echidnopolis if his thoughts were such as these. He never stopped thinking, for in his mind, he knew he would become them then, and the part of him that was him would die. Perhaps he had given up on life itself, but he never gave up on himself. His body could rot away for all he cared. It was his thoughts, his realizations that mattered. Jobe, deep down, could understand that nobody would listen to him, let alone care about what he had to say, and he did not mind that. Even if, when he breathed his last breathe, only he knew what he had learned, it would not be a loss, for at least one person, at one time, had known it.

It was, to say the least, a depressing and warped way of thinking, but it was his way of thinking, and he cherished what was his.

The rain had now formed puddles, one of which was creeping towards him. The tattered rag of a blanket was half-damp from drippings that splashed down from the edge of the awning. He sighed and stood up, the wind battering him now. As he often did when the elements became harsh, Jobe numbed himself to the pain and cold seeping through him and walked out into the rain. Nobody was on the streets now, since the time of night and the weather were both hostile. He moved without much fear of getting caught and sent to the orphanage. The brief respite could be considered a glimmer of kindness from the gods.

Jobe's sixth sense-he'd once heard that all beings possessed five, and he regarded this particular one as an extra-flared up and he ducked behind a trashcan moments before a squad car passed by. Had he been part of this society-and he did not want to be-he would have been held high in esteem for that gift, for it was remarked that only guardians could sense what was around them and what would happen before it happened. In actuality, the guardians could do nothing in the manner that Jobe did. They relied on the chaos emerald, whereas Jobe's ability came from himself. He needed no jewel hunk to do what he did.

After the car drove by, he emerged from his hiding spot and continued on, searching for a dryer place, perhaps some food.

Trying to find a glimmer of kindness in the dark night.

[???????]

Hi, could you PM me when you post more of your story here? If you can I would like to say thank you.

[cindarella011]

Wow, very nice I like your way of writing, your very good finish the rest of the story. ok.

love Cindy

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