The two of them said nothing again as they made their way past many passages. The streets they took were a mess with divots and bumps along them. Some were cobbled up, and some were not.
However, the parts of it that had cobblestones weren't done very well and made for an uncomfortable path. Zach also noted that there weren't any footpaths along the way except for the main road in the town centre, which was bustling with traders, merchants, and customers.
Zach kept glancing down to avoid tripping, the soles of his borrowed boots catching unevenly on the jagged stones. Every so often, a sharp jolt up his ankle reminded him that this body wasn't built for comfort, especially not here. This body is young, yet it feels like it's been around for ages. Zach, you truly had it easy! He found himself chastising his old self and his immaturity. This was definitely a lot worse than working for a shitty boss.
There was a mixture of interesting-looking rectangular vehicles that made loud sounds like steam engines did, as well as horses and carriages, which fascinated Zach. It reminded him of photographs he had seen in history books, yet there was a modern touch that made him feel displaced.
The smell in the air felt out of place—part smoke, part dung, and something metallic. It was the kind of sensory overload that made his thoughts swim.
"What do those things run on?" Zach said to Dreja, nodding at the car-looking contraption that zoomed past them. He was curious about something that he thought he saw the man doing inside, but wanted to first confirm it.
"The car?" Dreja asked. The word for car was said in the English language.
Hearing the word shocked Zach. Perhaps there were others like him in this world.
"Wait-" Zach said, looking really serious at that moment before looking at the man dead in the eyes, "how are we communicating right now?" he finished, his eyes full of questions.
"I know ye a young boy, but ye dumber than a dung", Desja spoke, irritation clear in his voice.
"I'm serious!" Zach exclaimed.
"Are you speaking English, or am I speaking your language without somehow knowing it? That's this body's native tongue. Or maybe I'm dead, and there's some universal language here in the afterlife." He nodded earnestly, clearly in deep thought.
A small thud sounded when Dreja's hand smacked Zach's head.
"Owww! What was that for?" Zach grunted out.
"Wanted to check somethin'-" Dreja, walking away, Zach said, "and yep, nothin' in there."
"I'm being serious," Zach proclaimed, wanting validation, "and I need answers."
Desja, already in front of him by a good few steps, ignored him and didn't even bother to turn around.
Zach, now stuck on that question, pondered for some explanation of any sort. It wasn't for a while that a thought came to him. He remembered something: human DNA stores memories in it. Perhaps it was the same for these people, too.
Yes, that was it! Zach had read it somewhere, happy at his perfect recollection. He thought further about exactly where he learnt that knowledge when it hit him; he never read that somewhere; he had watched a video on it. On Instagram. Ahh, yes, the perfect source! He thought comically to himself.
He chuckled under his breath. If memes and reels were going to be his reference points for survival here, then maybe he really was doomed.
"So, what does this car run on?" Zach started, "Is it gas like diesel or petrol ?" he finished, using words that were in English.
"Gas? Deesell? Pet-roll?" Dreja looked at him in confusion.
"Umm-" Zach rubbed his chin as he tried to explain. "How is it powered? Do you use a special liquid that helps it run?"
"Hahaha! Silly man, that thing doesn't run on some special liquid; it's run by magic, of course. What else?" Dreja said, laughing at what he thought were silly questions from a naive boy.
"You said magic?" Zach whispered.
"Yes! Now, hurry; we're already runnin' late and later than this, and they'll cut our pay in half!" Dreja shouted
Seriously, for being late? What a cruel world.
Zach's prospects of an easy-going life until he returns to Earth looked more and more bleak. But at least there was magic. That could be something else.
The walk to their workplace took about fifteen minutes, and along the way, Dreja motioned for Zach to stop by one of the stalls lining the street.
Zach looked at Dreja with a curious look and asked, "Are we here?" his tone was unsure and confused as he looked around and didn't think there was a factory nearby.
"Yes," the man answered, his mouth full of the bun he had just bought from the old lady manning the stall. He added, "To break the fast."
"Ah" was all Zach said. He had not realised that he was hungry. He had attributed it to all the excitement or, rather, fear from the night before and now the dread that filled the pit of his stomach.
He motioned for the same bun that Dreja had chosen and indicated with his finger for a single piece. Money was scarce, and it had to be saved. It seemed this society also thrived on capitalism. How great! Zach sarcastically remarked mentally.
The bread bun was steaming hot and served in a newspaper parcel. Very sanitary, he thought, not loving the fact. But as he took a bite of the morsel, he was surprised by the pleasant flavours that hit his taste buds. It had a meat filling that was slightly sweet and savoury; it was almost reminiscent of a BBQ pork bun from the Chinese place he used to go to every second Friday.
A man has to keep routines and schedules; otherwise, what separates him from an animal? These were the words Zach used to live by, but they seem no more because transmigrating to a whole new world breaks any and every routine that Zach had in place.
At least there was this bun; he gleefully savoured each bite, feeling a sense of familiarity and strangeness. The flavour may be familiar, but what made it strange was where he was. Zach would have never eaten his Chinese pork bun in the streets, but instead, he would have eaten it in his apartment in front of his flatscreen while he played video games.
He was tempted to buy another for his lunch later, but Dreja beckoned for him to make haste. Perhaps lunch was included at the job, Zach thoughtfully hoped.
Zach saw that Dreja had heedlessly discarded the paper parcel to the ground without a care or even a second thought. Zach looked around for any sight of a trash bin but found that the streets had none.
While feeling guilty, he too threw his rubbish on the ground, but as he did, he found himself looking around at the people around, waiting for the looks of condescension. There were none. This was simply how these people lived; instead of fretting about the environment, they were on the next agenda, whatever that may be.
As they kept walking, Zach spotted a man who appeared to be middle-aged with a missing limb and a deep and hollowed-out left eye splayed out on the street, eating what appeared to be a rodent-looking creature, raw. The bun he had been eating just minutes before almost made its way back out.
This was all normal to them, just like it isn't strange how the beggar-looking man would eat such a thing with no hesitation. Not a single soul has offered the man a single change or even some real food.
Zach wondered whether these people viewed it as revolting and sad as he did, but perhaps this was the way they lived because there was no other way to live.
"Dreja, why is that man-" Zach started to say, but found that he already had his answer.
"Hmm?" Dreja asked absentmindedly, not looking back at
Zach, "What?"
"It's... nothing." Zach found that his voice was small and distant as if the thoughts had flown him elsewhere, back to Earth.
It was hard to live in such an archaic and uncivilised way when certain societal norms of Earth had been so long ago ingrained in him. But if Zach was being honest with himself, then he would be able to admit that looking around this place, it was clear that it was a reflection of a world that existed too on Earth, but he had just been privileged enough not to have ever experienced it, let alone witnessed it in person.
The parcel and the selfishness of the passersby didn't only represent the primitive times to Zach, though; for him, it raised questions on how he would now have to live in the imminent future that would become his life.
Although it was only his first day here, he found himself thinking, Will he someday wake up and find this to be his new routine? And was he fine with that?