The door magnetically sealed behind us, the low hum of the magnetic field informing us that we would be trapped here until they decided to let us out. The kid shouted as loud as he could muster and the echo ran rampant through the pipes. My ear drums began to squeal, I pressed my hands against my ears to block out the initial loud, horrible rumbling. When the echo had found no escape, it shriveled up slowly in some far away corner of this labyrinth and died.
I carefully moved my hands and away from my head and with a confused, yet amused look on my face; studied the features of my charge. That wail was testing the waters, seeing what he was be capable of getting away with as far as sound was concerned. He probably had a decent lie on hand to tell anyone who came to question him about it. He saw my curious smile and rescripicated. We began to talk freely, a breath of fresh air in this rank sewer and our prison in general. Chances to converse with our given language these days were few and far between. For a moment, we're free men.
His name his Christopher and he was Manhattan born and bred. Probably the type whose parents ran themselves ragged to avoid the horrors of debt and kept the silver spoon out of their kids' mouths to make sure they stayed comfortably in the black. They were appreciative of the finer things, but not dependant on them; a good contemporary upbringing. Like all first day conversations, the talk goes immediately south as I discover what gets a kid with his whole life ahead of him in my personal corner of Hell.
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