Chapter Text
His indignance fueled him. Everything hurt, but what else was he to do? He had nowhere to go, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he kept walking. He steamed in his emotions as he wandered aimlessly, cursing his situation. His body and his mind were at war: he was drowning in grief caused by the death of his mother, but his anger directed towards his father spurred him onwards. He couldn’t face his father after seeing the life fade from his mother’s eyes. He didn’t want to know what he might do. For years, he’d struggled with pent-up rage and endless frustration towards Herman, who had done nothing but waste their money. Even more than that, he’d never been there for Luca. It wasn’t fair; why did his mother have to be the one to die? She had always been there. She had always cared. Perhaps this was some sick joke played on him by a higher power.
By the time the sun had begun to set, his legs ached and his hunger was so severe it was no longer pangs, but sharp stabs. He nearly collapsed at the trunk of an old, gnarled oak tree and started rummaging through his bag. He’d at least had the foresight to take food and clothes with him despite his emotions blinding him. He pulled an apple out and wolfed it down, feeling numb. Being jerked back and forth from anger to sadness had really worn him out. Regret started to creep up on him as night fell and his legs didn’t stop aching; what was he going to do now? He didn’t have any other family to live with. And what would become of his education? Herman wouldn’t pay for his tuition now that he’d run away. He’d probably rather spend it on his own pursuits anyway. He might not even miss Luca. Hell, he’d probably appreciate Luca not getting underfoot anymore.
Luca chucked the apple core as hard as he could, watching it bounce just once on the road before rolling to a stop. He needed to sleep, he told himself. If Herman was going to report him as missing and send the police after him, he needed the strength to keep walking. Deep down, though, he had his doubts. He could hear Herman reasoning that Luca would be fine on his own, that it was about time for him to start his own life. With a huff, he laid down on the grass, using his bag as a pillow. He counted silently to distract himself from his anger until it was engulfed by exhaustion.
He started off the next morning with a crick in his neck and persistent fatigue. His legs were sore and the muscles tight, but he was sure he could walk it off without much trouble. Sleep had subdued his emotions, allowing him to grasp the reality of his current situation: he was homeless with very little money and no plans or support. It didn’t take long for panic to set in. His pride wouldn’t allow him to return home, but the idea of living on the streets forever didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. He’d never become a great inventor if he was stuck shining shoes or working in a factory twelve hours a day just so he could eat. Was there any way for him to fix his situation without crawling back to Herman? Nothing came to mind, but he headed for the center of town regardless, hoping he’d get lucky and find a solution waiting for him there.
It was amazing how many different perspectives could be seen through just one set of eyes. Some days, Luca saw his favorite shops and familiar faces. Other days, he saw potential for improvement, filling his head with ideas for world-altering inventions. Occasionally he saw nothing but the ground beneath his feet. Today, he saw the workers. A man straightened the sign on the door to his shop. A paperboy shouted at everyone who dared to pass him, appealing to their kindness until they bought a newspaper. An old woman sat on a wooden chair, hand-woven baskets surrounding her, and another partially made one in her hands. A man on the side of the road groomed a horse’s mane, being careful to not spook it. Luca couldn’t see himself doing any of those jobs; they didn’t appeal to him. He wanted to change the world. He wanted everyone to know his name, he wanted everyone to benefit from his work. How could he do that if he was just a cog in the machine that made up the town?
“You there! I bet you haven’t heard the news, have you?” Luca looked up to see the paperboy coming towards him.
'"Er, no. What happened?”
"I’d lose my job if I just told you! But it only costs five pence to find out. C’mon, you can’t be the only one who doesn’t know!” The boy shook the newspaper in front of his face.
“Sorry, I don’t have any money on me,” Luca said.
“Go get some, then! I’ll be waiting for you!” The boy turned away and rounded on an older gentleman with a cane, allowing Luca to continue on his way. He did have money, but he was scared that he’d starve once it was gone. He needed to save it so he could give himself time to find out what he was going to do. He had maybe a week’s worth of money for food if he really stretched it with just a meal or two a day, and that would surely be enough time to get a job, even if it was only temporary. For a moment, he entertained the idea of being a paperboy, but he wasn’t anything like them. They were bold, unafraid to badger people into buying from them. They worked rain or shine and spent hours on their feet. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to sign on for such a thing. Furthermore, he’d heard that it paid terribly. He needed enough to fund his projects.
By the time his stash of food ran out, he wasn’t any closer to a solution. An air of defeat around him, he made his way up to the counter of a small diner.
“How many?” The server asked.
Well, actually, I was hoping I could speak to the manager. I’m looking for a job.” The cashier stared at him with dead eyes before turning and shouting at the top of her lungs:
“Mark! Someone wants to apply for a job!” Luca watched as a tall, gangly man emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Who?” He asked.
“Me,” Luca said. “I really need a job. I don’t care what position so long as it pays.” The manager nodded, looking like he’d much rather get back to his work.
“Want to be our cleaner? The other one quit two days ago. It’s two dollars a week.”
“I’ll take it.”
"Great. Come with me, you can start in the kitchen.”
To say he hated his job was an understatement. It was hot, dirty work. He spent most days in the kitchen, running around after the cooks and cleaning up their messes. The kitchen was always sweltering, and Luca had never liked the heat. Working after closing was his favorite part, when everything was silent and just one candle lit the place up for him. Sometimes he stole food from storage, but never enough that anyone would notice. The diner’s manager allowed him to eat a meal every day so long as it was deducted from his wages, and that was good enough for Luca. He’d holed himself up under an outcropping not far from the diner that usually protected him and his belongings from rain. He’d lost a lot of weight since running away, but he’d grown used to the near-constant fatigue and the looks of concern by now. Sometimes he tried to measure how thin he’d gotten; in the past, he was barely able to wrap his thumb and forefinger around the thinnest part of his forearm. Now, he could touch his fingers together at the elbow.
His work certainly wasn’t enough to help him save up, but right now, it was keeping him alive. He continued to search for better jobs, but most higher-paying ones didn’t want a starving dropout whose only passions involved ‘inventing’ as an employee. He felt as though the life was being sucked out of him the longer he spent not pursuing what he loved. On top of that, he was still grieving the death of his mother; he didn’t even know if she would have a grave for him to visit, which made him feel guilty for running away. What if she didn’t get a proper funeral? What if she resented Luca for running instead of ensuring her final wishes were granted?
“Luca, can you give us a hand waiting tables?” Melissa asked, poking her head into the kitchen. Setting the clean plate on the drying rack, he nodded. Melissa disappeared as he pulled off the gloves and straightened his clothes, heading into the main part of the diner. He rarely saw the diner so crowded, and it was a bit overwhelming. Melissa gave him a notepad and pointed to where he needed to go. The night seemed to drag on without end, the tables filling up immediately after being wiped down. The noise was never quieter than a dull roar, and it made Luca worry he might go deaf at some point should he never get out of here. When things did start to slow down around closing time, he switched to cleaning once again.
“Hey, Luca, you said you like science, yeah?” Luca turned to see that his co-worker Henry was talking to him from the desk.
"Yeah, why?”
"My little brother was talking about an exhibition. You work all the time, you should ask for a day off and go. It’s this Thursday.”
“Really?” Luca asked. Henry nodded. “I honestly might. That sounds interesting. Thanks for letting me know.”
"Of course.”
The exhibition was crowded, but Luca managed to squeeze through the groups of people. While he couldn’t keep himself from admiring each and every display, some he deliberately avoided, either because there were swarms of people or the focus of the inventor didn’t particularly draw him in. He was, however, drawn to a smaller exhibition. Papers upon papers of notes and speculation decorated the board, but a small wheel with magnets carried by handmade carts sat on it. The Perpetual Motion Machine, the heading of the paper front and center read. Luca was close to pressing his face against the papers so he could read them when someone cleared their throat behind him, making him back away a little.
"Oh — hello! Are you the one behind this?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the display.
“That I am,” he replied. “I’m Alva Lorenz. It’s nice to meet you.” Luca couldn’t hide the split-second look of shock that crossed his face. He’d read about Alva before; what were the chances he was actually getting to meet him?
“Oh. Uh, uh, I’m Luca Balsa. I’m, um, a fan of your works!”
“That’s always nice to hear. I thought you looked familiar.” Luca shook his hand, ignoring his confusion at Alva’s response.
“Yep.” Luca could feel his brain frying. “Is this what you’ve been working on?” He gestured to the little wheel on the table.
“It is. Here, allow me to demonstrate.” Alva approached the wheel and carefully set the carts holding the magnets on it before giving it a gentle spin. The magnets repelled each other, letting the wheel spin a while longer than it normally would’ve. Eventually, though, it did come to a stop.
"As you can see, it isn’t perpetual, but this could help people understand how it might work.”
"Maybe there’s too much friction,” Luca suggested. “If you replaced the wood with something less resistant, it might give the magnets more to work with. Oh! And, we could change something about the wheels. I bet the axles on the cart are slowing it down. We wouldn’t need to worry about a completely frictionless setup because of the force of the magnets, which is good.” Luca felt his face flush when he realized he’d been saying we. Hopefully Alva didn’t take offense.
"Good observation,” Alva said, dispelling all of Luca’s fears. “That would certainly be worth a try.”
"Ice and wood have low coefficients of friction,” Luca mused. “Maybe that could work.”
"Perhaps. The only issue there is that the machine would have to be kept someplace cold enough to prevent the ice from melting.”
“Right, right.” His mind buzzed with ideas. How he’d love to sit down and work on this machine, to tamper with it until it worked. “But I don’t mean to trap you in discussion like this! I hope you have a great day, Mr. Lorenz.”
“And you, Mr. Balsa.” Alva smiled at him, shaking his hand again. Luca couldn’t help but to take one last glance at the concept piece. He felt so compelled to stay and tinker with it, even if he knew he shouldn’t touch anything. He could already tell he’d be spending the rest of his days thinking about ways to make a perpetual motion machine. It called to him. The little ferris wheel with the magnets might as well have had a spotlight on it; briefly, Luca thought that this machine was all the exhibition needed, but then he snapped out of his trance and pulled his hand away. He smiled at Alva before hurrying off, no longer interested in looking at anything else the exhibition had to offer. Somehow, he had to get back to that machine.