William looked down at the road below and watched as the city shook off its slumber and began its Monday. He watched his wife pack the twins off to school, straightening tie and skirt. Their uniforms were spotless, the deep green of Cooper’s Court Primary School, the best school in the city. The most expensive too. In fact, he thought, looking about at the world around him, this was the most expensive area in the city. Clear skies above, a rarity in Godsbridge, gleaming buildings of metal and glasswork, so different from the brick and mortar of the poorer districts. Not to mention the well cared for roads, and the fancy fronted shops. They really had come a long way from their home in the docks.
The sun began its leisurely way across the sky and the road below, covered in moisture from a cold night, gleamed under its gaze. William looked away, his state of mind so at odds with the city’s awakening. He was so very tired.
But it had been worth it. The children went to the very best school, they had the very best friends. His wife, Catherine, had everything she had ever wanted and more – she had never expected, or even dared to dream of a life in the upper city. She’d hoped to leave the docks at least, with their dirty air and dirtier ground, but to come so far in such a short time.
Such a horribly short time.
But it had been worth it. It would’ve been nice to have all the details, but it had been worth it, just to see the look on his family’s face.
William looked down at the page in front of him for what must’ve been the fiftieth time.
“Mr Keyes, if you’re having second thoughts, there’s no need to worry yourself. You’re under no obligation to sign.”
William looked up again.
“I know that Mr Harcourt. I just,” he paused, “It’s a lot to come to terms with. Can you go over the details of that last part again?”
“But of course. And please, call me John.”
The large man seated on the far side of the ancient oaken desk ruffled through the pages he held, his brows knit closely together as he skimmed each page.
“Where were we? Oh, yes, of course. The ‘suspicious death’ clauses.”
William nodded.
“Well, they’re actually very simple Mr Keyes.” He paused a moment to readjust the small glasses perched daintily and precariously atop his nose.
“In what I must admit is rather obtuse language, they state that if the contract holder - in this case your fine self Mr Keyes – if the contract holder dies under any circumstances deemed suspicious by the appropriate authorities, the contract holder and his or her family lose all rights to the money promised them in this contract. However, on the other side, we as a company also lose all rights promised us in the contract. Simply, if your death, far off may it be of course Mr Keyes, is in any way strange or suspicious, the contract is void. This protects you against attempts on your existence by us, and protects us from your family attempting to cash in early, as it were.”
William nodded again, slower this time, considering Mr Harcourt’s words.
Mr Harcourt, for his part, set down the papers and leant forward in his chair, lacing his hands together in front of him as he leant upon the table.
“Why is it you care if my family cash in early? Surely you don’t have to wait as long that way?”
“Well, that’s true,” agreed Mr Harcourt, “but a death in suspicious circumstances is always fraught for everyone involved. That kind of atmosphere does no good at all for our business. It’s much the same as if the contract holder is, say, killed by warfare in His Majesty’s service. Hence the earlier clause prohibiting members of His Majesty’s armed forces.”
“Ah, I see. I’m sorry Mr Harcourt, it really is a rather daunting prospect. I’m really not taking it all in as well as I’d like, but it all does make sense once you’ve gone over it with me.”
Mr Harcourt positively beamed.
“I’m happy to help Mr Keyes! My job here is specifically to make sure that all our contract signees understand entirely what they are signing and what it entitles both their family, and the company, to in the long term. Perhaps you would like to look at the sort of numbers your family can be expecting from the company, in the event of your demise?”
William nodded dumbly.
“Don’t worry Mr Keyes, I'm sure it’ll be a long time off yet. Besides, it’s quite the legacy to leave to your family, as you’ll see.”
William forced a smile, and reached for the next page of the hefty booklet.
“It’s on page fifty-three.”
Once they had both reached the correct page, Mr Harcourt took a moment to stroke his chin, perhaps imagining a Machiavellian beard in place.
“As you can see, our rates are incredibly generous.”
William could indeed see. It would be more than enough to set his family up, quite happily, for life. If he lived to a decent age, it would be even more. In fact, if he died in his nineties, his grandchildren could retire then and there.
“Everyone always asks why we pay out so much. You’re wondering the same, I presume Mr Keyes?”
Once more, William nodded.
“It’s very simple really. We tend to find that, just like wine, things are better when they’ve been aged well. With a contract holder living into their nineties, even with our generous payouts, the company can more than offset the cost with the possible income from it. That profit then goes back into supplying more areas with cheap and reliable power, and paying more people like yourself Mr Keyes, should they become contract holders. The system works spectacularly well.” Mr Harcourt paused in his, quite evidently rehearsed, speech and glanced down at William’s details.
“Ah, from the King’s Wharf I see? We recently expanded our energy supply into that area of the city, I assume you’ve seen the benefits?”
“I have. The street lamps alone have made a huge difference. It’s nice to have the heating for our house as well.” William paused. “It’s actually what made me consider coming down to look at your contracts. See if I could make a difference to some families in cheaper areas myself sometime, you know?”
Mr Harcourt took his turn to nod, leaning back in his chair and smiling knowingly at William.
“You're a good man Mr Keyes, that much I can see. I can tell you that our next plan of expansion is to power the outlier areas to the south of the city – the farms and industrial areas. After that, we plan to do the same for the lower levels of Godsbridge, and then we plan to move northwards to bring power to the shanties to the north. That won’t be for a while of course, so you could well go on to help the very poorest of the city. I myself have a contract signed in one of these drawers,” he gestured to the immense wall of filing cabinets that towered behind him, “so I can someday help those same people. We can do it together, Mr Keyes.”
William had walked out of that building a short time later feeling like a new man. He had a generous signing bonus in hand – one which would go on to buy the family’s way out of the crumbling house they lived in.
It’d set them up in a nice new area, he could carry on his job in the docks – he’d get a bicycle or something to get to work quickly. Catherine could take up a little job in one of the customs houses or banks nearby – she was cleverer than him by far, and knew her reading and writing perfectly. In no time they’d be better off than anyone in either of their families had ever been, and wouldn’t that be something?
He bitterly remembered all these thoughts he’d had. The world had been so full of hope, so wonderful that afternoon. And for three years, it really had gone that way. The extra money coming in meant they could afford to save here and there; they could afford to send the children to a better school once the current year ended. They would even have enough to send them to secondary school – almost unheard of in the Keyes family.
And then, he’d died.
Obviously he knew it would happen one day – you don’t get far beyond childhood before you realise that. He’d just hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. Especially not before he saw the children grow up. But, as his grandfather had always said, Fate is a cruel mistress.
But it shouldn’t have been like this. He should’ve died, and that should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t. Harcourt had never told him what would happen when he died. Maybe the man hadn’t even known himself. But all William knew was that between moments, he had died. On the one second, tick, he was alive. He heard someone above him call out a warning and looked up. The other second, tock, he was dead. And yet, not dead. He was no longer alive, his body buried in a graveyard to the north of the city – a step up from the rest of the family who were buried in the river far below, like most lower-dwellers. And yet, here he was, watching the world go by. He had no idea how it worked, and yet, here he ‘sat’, a crystalline lattice in a lamppost, watching Godsbridge go by. It was a lucky co-incidence that his family had moved to this same street with the money they were paid for his soul. At first it had been horrible seeing them go about their lives and unable to say anything.
But then he had realised the truth.
Mr Harcourt had been right. He was helping people. And on top of that, he could watch his family grow up, see his children prosper – whether Thomas would become an officer in the navy like he always wanted, whether any of Marianne’s prospective men were up to scratch. And he would always be able to watch them. In a way, it was better like this.
Yes, he reflected, watching Catherine and the twins as they turned the corner of the road, it was better like this. It was worth it.
If only he could close his eyes and rest.