The Urban World: Subordinary

When I was sixteen I wrote a collection of interconnected short stories I titled "The Urban World". Here is a sample of one of those stories:


Subordinary
 


    The clanking sound of silver coins dropping inside a small metal container indicated he had commited himself to this particular transaction, without any further way to legally retrieve those same coins again. With awkward ease he pushed himself through the turnstyle and quickly scanned his surroundings, ever careful not to delay the other people scurrying busily around him. Each of the walls around him remained true to a similar design, each tile following the same pattern of colour, texture and shape. Here, it was a shiny whitewash with a robust green trim and an occasional silver column.
    As he was about to head down the escalator a loud whistle rang through the air behind him. He turned to see a short stocky man offering him familiar a suede wallet.
    'Is your name Patty Sohier Nelkie?' asked the man with a quiet, timid voice.
    'Uh, it's Peter, but yeah that's mine. Thanks!' he answered in surprise. He reached out and took back his wallet.
    Young Nelkie checked to ensure everything was in it's proper place. His modest amount of currency generously approaching an amount of ten dollars, his health card, and a badly scratched birth certificate. Just for the sake of reminding himself who he was, he read the certificate to himself. Born May 27 1987, birthplace Etobioke, gender male, all of them facts that were not going to change.
    With haste, young Nelkie hopped onto the escalator and rode down to the subway platform. He was fortunate that today the escalator's mechanics had not yet broken down and required weeks of "repairs." The subway train was speeding forwards him from the tunnel as he hopped off the escalator, indicating his timing had been perfectly fortunate. A massive roar sounded throughout the station, growing louder and louder as the front of the train erupted into plain sight and rushed past the patient commuters at the far end of the platform.
    One of the train doors came to a stop right in front of where young Nelkie stood, further confirming his moment of good luck. Through the car windows he could also see that the car was surprisingly empty. It was mid-afternoon, a time of day right in-between the dual rushes of the grouchy morning and frantic late afternoon hours. The doors opened and he was welcomed onboard by a collage smell of old chewing gum and spilled coffee from that very morning. Other odours made themselves present as well, but they were various enough not to be precisely identified.
    Few other people occupied the nearby area he choose to sit down at, allowing him the option of a fine vantage of a window. Young Nelkie had made a mental note to sit near a window because the train route required travelling across the Danforth bridge, nourishing upon young Nelkie a marvelous view of the Don Valley for a good brief minute.
    His fellow passengers glanced momentarily and customarily at him, swiftly scanning his appearance and with the same speed diverting their eyes when necessary. One fellow in the far end of the car continued still to stare at him for several seconds, or at least young Nelkie's direction, for his eyes had a distinctive wandering about them. Another person, sitting down a few seats to his right, was quietly reading an uncommonly thick self-help magazine. The final passenger onboard this car was dressed in a well kept navy blue suit, complemented with a dark yellow tie overtop an ordinary white business shirt. A black leather suitcase sat on his lap, providing a temporary reading desk for the stock listings of the days newspaper. Clearly this man had a job of some sort.
    Young Nelkie leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, his destination not coming for several stops, leaving plenty of time for rest. That destination was a cousin's house, whom had promised him a brand new bicycle a pair of months back. A something began to jab and poke at his shoulder, causing him to open his eyes and see a blurred vision of what looked like the glazed eyes and face of a fellow leaning over him.
    'Isid yer nam Patty Sohar Nalkie?' the glazed eyes man asked, his voice difficult to interpret.
    'Uh... yes? I am, Peter Nelkie.'
    The man with the glazed eyes fumbled with his pockets until he pulled out a piece of suede and held it out towards him.
    'Oh, thank you!' exclaimed young Nelkie realizing it was his wallet.
    'Yeez, ats tif a gerfot allet blah.'
    The man's breath was terribly pungent, almost definitely from consuming large amounts of various liquors. This was also clearly evident by his clothes, which reeked of a marination of rum and rye. Young Nelkie nodded politely and sat back in his seat, and the man with the glazed eyes stumbled slowly back to the other side of the train. A young person sitting near the door took hardly a glance at this sloppy incident, preferring instead to be visually captivated by a Hollywood celebrity magazine. The man with the glazed eyes even let out a loud snore and slipped from his fresh seat to the floor. An empty bottle of bourbon slipped out of his left jacket pocket and hit the ground with a glassy "thunk."
    Suddenly the inside of the subway car came alive with sunlight, as the train had emerged from the tunnels and was now charging across a bridge. Young Nelkie looked out his nearby window and down below the suspended tracks, where a once mighty river could be seen flowing gently southward. Over the course of long centuries it had gone from mightily filling an entire valley to being a mud filled stream between a highway and a rail line.
    'Excuse me, are you Patty Sohar Nalkey?' a male voice inquired, breaking young Nelkie away from his daydreams.
    'Yes, I'm uh, Peter Nelkie.'
    A man in a trim and mannered blue suit stood in front of young Nelkie, holding out a familiar piece of suede and looking at him curiously. He took back his suede wallet again and gave a nod of thanks to the apparent businessman.
    'No problem, chap.'
    The businessman was about to return to his seat, but thought better of it and turned back to face young Nelkie.
    'Wait, I'd like to tell you something.'
    He took a seat right beside him.
    'I've got a tip.'
    'What kind of tip?' asked young Nelkie.
    'You know, a stock tip'
    'What?'
    'Look kid,' the businessman began, 'I like ya, you've got a style I admire. So listen carefully. Unicorp is about to unveil a brand new kind of toilet brush. Could be big. It's a can't miss.'
    'Unicorp toilet brushes?'
    'Yes, don't repeat it,' the businessman told him, looking around quickly to see if anyone was eavesdropping. 'It won't cost you any to get in either.'
    He straightened up and walked back across the car to where his newspaper and leather suitcase lay. As he sat back down he shot young Nelkie a quick thumbs up before returning to his reading.
    The train reared to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal a station painted mostly light blue and green, the station young Nelkie had been waiting for. He rose from his seat and jogged out of the train excitedly, knowing that within the hour he would be riding a brand new bicycle. Left behind on the subway's car floor was a small familiar piece of suede.