Yash Stanton

4N-York(New-New-New-New York ) was the same as it had always been, though he'd not know what it used to be like. Couldn't be so different.

The poor remained poor, churning stones and paving roads and picking through rubbish for scraps of those arrogant enough to call themselves 'middle'. He shuddered to think of what 'high' could be.

He grew up with a mother who'd rarely recognized his face, with light-hearted ribbing by withered men old enough to be his father. He grew up among hard days sweating in the sun building the university he found himself in. He grew up having three sets of clothes, more than most.

Through luck, he landed himself in engineering, something unlike any of his kin. He was desperately clawing up. Spending here and there and working even more till he was veritably a stick compared to those around him. He was passable, his work paid off and he was passing. They hated him for it, he knew.

Ridicule, jeers, useless efforts by wastes who'd had everything handed to them. Only one ever became physical. Only one was a threat, only one ever actively tried to sabotage him. Only one had the gall to snatch the corn from his plate. Only one had the audacity to steal the single beaten textbook, the only he had, and lord it over him. Only one was ever obsessed with forcing him to kneel. Only one hit him so hard he'd seen stars. Just once. She was worrying, very, very worrying. He had no idea how to deal with her, she was too noticeable to make disappear, too harmless to consider it, too confusing of a person to even think of.

Worrying.

Regardless, he had one job, Thrive.

He always survived. He... he wanted to know what it felt like... to win...just...once.