There comes, beamed to Wolfwood's AR glasses, a scene of a busy, filthy city street. Overcrowded, old, European architecture with a futuristic twist. Levitating cars on the cobblestone streets. And there, in an alley out of the way, a gang of kids. Their leader is a girl of about nine, though she's so scruffy looking it's hard to even tell that she is a girl. She keeps the rest of the kids in line, and distributes whatever food she can scavenge with the group, hiding it away from the bigger kids who will bully them and steal the food for themselves.
And there, across the street from the gaggle of urchins, perched on top of a garbage can, is the smallest boy you've ever seen. He looks to be about two, but his eyes are older. His clothing is threadbare, or at least what little of it remains is. His limbs are thin and gangly, and his belly distended from hunger. He won't make it past autumn.
A pair of preteen girls walk by, scantily clad to appeal to the perverts who frequent these streets. They see the bread the gang leader has stolen away, and demand a portion of it. Their "protection" fee. Having no other choice, she gives it over to them.
Suddenly, the small boy is there.
"Go away, you little bastard, you're not getting nothing from me," says the girl. "I'm not taking one bean out of the mouths of my crew, you aren't worth a bean."
"Why you give your food to them?" says the boy. "You need that food."
"Oh, excuse me!" the girl pipes back, raising her voice, so her crew can hear her. "I guess you ought to be the crew boss here, is that it? You being so big, you got no trouble keeping the food."
"Not me," says the boy. "I'm not worth a bean, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. Maybe you ought to remember and shut up."
Her crew laughs.
But the little boy doesn't. "You got to get your own bully," he says.
"I don't get bullies, I get rid of them," the girl answers, looking ready to push the boy right onto his butt.
"You give food to bullies every day. Give that to one bully and get him to keep the others away from you."
"You think I never thought of that, stupid?" she counters. "Only once he's bought, how I keep him? He won't fight for us."
"If he won't, then kill him," says the boy simply.
That makes the girl mad, so mad she knees the boy to the ground, and kicks him while he's down. "Maybe I start by killing you."
"I'm not worth a bean, remember?" says the boy. "You kill one bully, get another to fight for you, he want your food, he scared of you too. They eating you up. Eating you up. So you got to kill one. Get him down, everybody as small as me. Stones crack any size head."
"You make me sick," the girl says.
"Cause you didn't think of it," he replies.
The girl looked around at her crew. She can't seem to read their faces, get a sense of how they're feeling about this scene.
"I don't need no baby telling me to kill what we can't kill."
"Little kid come up behind him, you shove, he fall over," says the boy. "Already got you some big stones, bricks. Hit him in the head. When you see brains you done."
"He no good to me dead," she says. "I want my own bully, he keep us safe, I don't want no dead one."
The boy grins. "So now you like my idea," he says.
"Can't trust no bully," she answers.
"He watch out for you at the charity kitchen," says the boy. "You get in at the kitchen." He keeps looking her in the eye, but he was talking for the others to hear. "He get you all in at the kitchen."
"Little kid get into the kitchen, the big kids, they beat him," says the girl's second-in-command, a boy of around eight, who fancied himself something of a sergeant to her commander.
"You get you a bully, he make them go away."
"How he stop two bullies? Three bullies?"
"Like I said," the boy answers. "You push him down, he not so big. You get your rocks. You be ready. Be not you a soldier? Don't they call you Sergeant?"
"Stop talking to him, Sarge," says the girl. "I don't know why any of us is talking to some two-year-old."
"I'm four," says the boy.
"What your name?" asks the girl.
"Nobody ever said no name for me," he says.
"You mean you so stupid you can't remember your own name?"
"Nobody ever said no name," he says again. Still he looks her in the eye, lying there on the ground, the crew around him.
"Ain't worth a bean," she says, finally.
"Am so," he says.
"Yeah," says the sergeant. "One damn bean."
"So now you got a name," says the girl, with an air of finality. "You go back and sit on that garbage can, I think about what you said."
"I need something to eat," says Bean.
"If I get me a bully, if what you said works, then maybe I give you something."
"I need something now," says Bean again. It's obvious that it's true. If he doesn't get some food now, he'll surely die.
The girl reaches into her pocket and takes out six peanuts she had been saving. Bean sits up and takes just one from her hand, puts it in his mouth and slowly chews. It's not much, but it's enough for now.
MEMORY SHARE (cw: child homelessness, pedophilia, child prostitution)
And there, across the street from the gaggle of urchins, perched on top of a garbage can, is the smallest boy you've ever seen. He looks to be about two, but his eyes are older. His clothing is threadbare, or at least what little of it remains is. His limbs are thin and gangly, and his belly distended from hunger. He won't make it past autumn.
A pair of preteen girls walk by, scantily clad to appeal to the perverts who frequent these streets. They see the bread the gang leader has stolen away, and demand a portion of it. Their "protection" fee. Having no other choice, she gives it over to them.
Suddenly, the small boy is there.
"Go away, you little bastard, you're not getting nothing from me," says the girl. "I'm not taking one bean out of the mouths of my crew, you aren't worth a bean."
"Why you give your food to them?" says the boy. "You need that food."
"Oh, excuse me!" the girl pipes back, raising her voice, so her crew can hear her. "I guess you ought to be the crew boss here, is that it? You being so big, you got no trouble keeping the food."
"Not me," says the boy. "I'm not worth a bean, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. Maybe you ought to remember and shut up."
Her crew laughs.
But the little boy doesn't. "You got to get your own bully," he says.
"I don't get bullies, I get rid of them," the girl answers, looking ready to push the boy right onto his butt.
"You give food to bullies every day. Give that to one bully and get him to keep the others away from you."
"You think I never thought of that, stupid?" she counters. "Only once he's bought, how I keep him? He won't fight for us."
"If he won't, then kill him," says the boy simply.
That makes the girl mad, so mad she knees the boy to the ground, and kicks him while he's down. "Maybe I start by killing you."
"I'm not worth a bean, remember?" says the boy. "You kill one bully, get another to fight for you, he want your food, he scared of you too. They eating you up. Eating you up. So you got to kill one. Get him down, everybody as small as me. Stones crack any size head."
"You make me sick," the girl says.
"Cause you didn't think of it," he replies.
The girl looked around at her crew. She can't seem to read their faces, get a sense of how they're feeling about this scene.
"I don't need no baby telling me to kill what we can't kill."
"Little kid come up behind him, you shove, he fall over," says the boy. "Already got you some big stones, bricks. Hit him in the head. When you see brains you done."
"He no good to me dead," she says. "I want my own bully, he keep us safe, I don't want no dead one."
The boy grins. "So now you like my idea," he says.
"Can't trust no bully," she answers.
"He watch out for you at the charity kitchen," says the boy. "You get in at the kitchen." He keeps looking her in the eye, but he was talking for the others to hear. "He get you all in at the kitchen."
"Little kid get into the kitchen, the big kids, they beat him," says the girl's second-in-command, a boy of around eight, who fancied himself something of a sergeant to her commander.
"You get you a bully, he make them go away."
"How he stop two bullies? Three bullies?"
"Like I said," the boy answers. "You push him down, he not so big. You get your rocks. You be ready. Be not you a soldier? Don't they call you Sergeant?"
"Stop talking to him, Sarge," says the girl. "I don't know why any of us is talking to some two-year-old."
"I'm four," says the boy.
"What your name?" asks the girl.
"Nobody ever said no name for me," he says.
"You mean you so stupid you can't remember your own name?"
"Nobody ever said no name," he says again. Still he looks her in the eye, lying there on the ground, the crew around him.
"Ain't worth a bean," she says, finally.
"Am so," he says.
"Yeah," says the sergeant. "One damn bean."
"So now you got a name," says the girl, with an air of finality. "You go back and sit on that garbage can, I think about what you said."
"I need something to eat," says Bean.
"If I get me a bully, if what you said works, then maybe I give you something."
"I need something now," says Bean again. It's obvious that it's true. If he doesn't get some food now, he'll surely die.
The girl reaches into her pocket and takes out six peanuts she had been saving. Bean sits up and takes just one from her hand, puts it in his mouth and slowly chews. It's not much, but it's enough for now.
The scene fades.