With screeching brakes the train came to an halt and as the doors opened, steam still billowed over the platform. The fancy-dressed lady smiled as the young boy offered her the handkerchief she had dropped when getting off the train, not realising his other had hand dipped into her purse. The boy tipped his ragged cap, before spinning around and disappearing in the crowds at the station.

New York - he had only heard about it before, but today he was here. But being today, didn’t mean surviving tomorrow. He had to find a job and no place better to start than the harbour. With the salty air blowing in from the lower bay, the docks were a rough place bustling with sailors in a hurry to find their lovers after days spent out on the water. Marketmen shouted, hoping to top their competitors in order to secure a days income. Cargo was lifted onto carriages and rushed over the docks to the large warehouses which casted shadows over the people below.

The boy flinched as a splinter slid into his hand while he climbed up a stack of crates, scaring off the cats that had settled on top. From up high he could observe and learn the ways of life on the docks. The people moved with decision, but their eyes betrayed uncertainty and disappointment. This walk was not their choice, but rather what life has allotted to them. There was no chase of a desirable future, but an inescapable repitition of everyday's struggles.

The brief shimmer across the crowds caught his eye and the boy smiled as he saw the golden pocketwatch slowly fall back into its owner’s coat. There were a handful of them who somehow he hadn’t seen before. They were well-dressed, but more importantly a sense of confidence and control radiated from them.

The boy hopped down, manoeuvred through the crowds and closed in on the small group in front of the diner. If they didn’t have an answer for him, there was at least a fair chance to bring home a fine watch.

He coughed and bravely stepped forward, not knowing what would come next.

“Excuse me, but would you know about a job somewhere that is worth my while?¨

Jones had skipped a good night of sleep for the sake of yet another promising business. This one however would later prove to be more than worthy of the sacrifice of driving all night to New York. He had just sealed the deal with the captain of a mercantile steamship that made its routes between the coast of Florida and Boston, where our gangster had heard of the captain's possible interest in working as a smuggler for the mafia. The ship was en-route to the south and Jones had caught it just in time to hire the crew for their first assignment.

The deal was sealed and the two men, along with their partner counterparts, were having a casual conversation on the prospects of future business when Jones raised his gold watch up while nodding to the captain and stored it back on his pocket. He was about to give the regards that were due and wish them a happy voyage, when he heard this young voice next to him:

“Excuse me, but would you know about a job somewhere that is worth my while?¨

Reflex made him bring his hand back into the pocket, lest another petty thief would attempt to prune his skills with him. He should know, pick-pocketing was an art he had developed at a tender age himself and New York was usually full of rats, specially in these docks. When he looked at the boy however, he couldn't refrain from at least raising his eyebrow. He looked around and behind the boy to see if there were any "partners" and then took another good look at the young man.

He seemed sincere, but he could tell this wasn't a person who had made a living through honest work. Didn't look half as bad as your usual thief, specially for someone so young and usually inexperienced. He must have had some talent or a good teacher, a patron perhaps? He was mildly interested, and the talk with the captain was boring him to exhaustion now that it was all chit-chat. So he turned to the boy and smiled.

"A job worth your while? What's next, a union membership? Fixed timetables?" He tilted his head and continued. "C'mon now lad, you'd be luckier if ye asked fer some work and a hot meal. But I know ye're not really into working as much as you are interested in the watch I've just put in my pocket."

He sighed. Being tired made him grumpy, and not many years ago he was living in the same reality as this kid, probably not as successful as him. It took courage too, if he was a proper thief he would know how a gangster looks like and most importantly, why he should avoid them.

"What's yer name son?"

As the man finished speaking, the boy quickly glanced if the others would move in for a beating, but they kept to their place. Taking a run just to be sure briefly crossed his mind, but he had nothing to lose and he trusted on his quickness if it would come to it. He left angry men behind before and he’ll be able to again.

“No, sir”. The boy started with more audacity than confidence. “I’ll admit the watch looked pretty, but it did not take me long to realize it’s not fitting for who I am. Time is either a commodity for those who need to live up to expectations or for those who hold people to them.”

The boy lifted his cap and  briefly spun it around on two fingers while continuing.

“The crowds behind me - rushing through their daily routines - seem like the first group and you seem to belong the latter. I belong to neither. The gold might be of value, but any sell I would try to make would most likely leave me without a watch and without a profit, for I am but a small boy.”

The tired eyes and broken posture of his father after a days work appeared lively in the boy’s thoughts. That dark realism always fought with his mother’s encouragement to chase for something better. Now both of them gone. He was still here. Alone, but determined.

“Sir, perhaps you are right about one thing. I do not seek work, nor a contract. These things provide stability, but the results are limited by the agreement things started with. That type of organisation makes sense, but it lacks the opportunity to surprise and go beyond. I hope to surprise beyond the expected. But in all honesty, yes, I’d like to reap result beyond the common as well.”

The boy stared at the man in front of him and then at the sailor-types who looked dumbfounded by the conversation spontaneously igniting in front of them. He made a gamble on their relationship.

“Sir, like these men,...” the boy continued. “I just need a chance.”

 

Jones tried to contain his surprise but wasn't quite effective in the way he bit his lower lip in and smiled, letting a chuckle escape through his nose. He looked at his New York business associate to the right and then left at the captain of the ship. To make sure their reaction matched what he had heard, or if this was just his imagination trying to entertain him out of exhaustion and boredom.

"This kid..." He had a knack with the words, and a vision of things that was not as disfigured as he expected for someone of his age. Things must have been rough somewhere along the line of his life, but he probably didn't have it too bad until the recession stroke the country. Which sent him and every other Joe into a survival of the fittest. More than a few fell to the desperate realization of their own demise being the only possible next step. Incapable to adapt, they plunged themselves into better days from the top of a bridge, while others turned to petty criminals. This one had adapted, and was probably tired of scraping small coin for a living.

All of this was running through Jones' mind for a brief moment. He let the smile go and faced him with a straight face, he wanted the boy to know this was a serious moment, and that he was being taken seriously.

"You seem smart alright. Which can be dangerous around here, but not as dangerous as being young. So I'll cede you this moment at least." He took out the watch from his pocket and stared at the clock-hands moving slowly while thinking about the boy's words before continuing.

"Time can, be a commodity. Time can be many things, to many different people. But regardless of how you see it, the truth is that aside from death, time is the only thing that is certain." He turned the watch to the boy, so he could see the hands moving. "You can regard time with indifference, but he will not be indifferent to you."

"If you mean what I believe you mean, I'm guessing you'd want to be successful, and reap those results you wish for. Success however doesn't come without method, and a method worthy of success will never ignore the importance of a timely plan."

Jones stretched his arm towards the boy suggesting that he took the watch.

"I'll give you the chance to... Surprise beyond expectation. But there are a few things I need you to be aware of."

While the boy listened he had noticed the gypsy kids - in the reflection of the diner’s window - that had been observing him. They must be curious how this would play out, just like himself. As the afternoon neared its end the boy had felt progression in the conversation he had with the man. That and both a sense of adventure and uncertainty as he did not yet fully understand what he was applying for.

But remembering the faces of the crowd, and the certainties of the common man he had seen in their eyes, instilled more fear in him than taking this chance. So the boy lifted his head, smiled and continued.

“Yes, sir. I understand. Despite being young, I have been self-reliant for a while, which shaped who I am today. But I realise that where people meet and work together, an understanding in how to do that is important.”

He had been in school already, although not in the more traditional sense. But maybe life was a more effective teacher than the poorly paid people struggling to control their pupils. But now it was time to stop being involuntarily taught by circumstances that life pushed, but learn how to create them.

“I’m willing to learn, sir. I have a drive, but I know it needs direction to become effective.”

Jones nodded while pushing his jaw slightly forward, a habit he developed when engaged in deep thinking. He stepped forward and stooped down enough to be at the same height as the boy, in order to transmit to him the idea that they were on the same level. He put the watch on the boy's pocket and spoke gently enough that only he could hear.

"I am willing, to give you the opportunity to find a direction, while also giving myself a chance to do something good for a change. You keep that watch. If you don't want to be like these men, " He pointed at the crowd moving around them with his eyes. "whose routines are dictated by others, you will need to make your own routines, your own permanence with yourself. Time is important for development."

"Now, this is not exactly the best place to discuss this sort of affair. You see, my line of work is not exactly within the lines of what most would consider an agreeable occupation. It demands a discreteness that places like these cannot provide. So you can walk with me towards my car, " Jones pointed at the end of the busy road. "and I'll explain to you exactly what sort of opportunity I'm giving you, and what it would entail for you to take this path with me after we get there. Whether you agree or not to become my associate in my line of work, the watch is yours along with whatever knowledge you wish to preserve."

"Know that, this association starts with a friendship, and the prospect of growth. But I'm not going to be fooling you around with empty promises. It will all depend on your good judgement, and on what you want for yourself from this life. If I'm giving you this chance that many others have sought and failed to find, its because I believe that you are capable of it. But you need to remain as attentive to reality as you've been this far."

He looked into the boys eyes to make sure he understood what he had said and then got up and turned to the captain of the steamship. "I'll be going now Captain. I wish you a fair road on your travels." He nodded courteously at the sailor, and the sailor nodded back at the gangster. 

Then Jones turned back to the boy. "Are you coming lad?"

The sailors went their way, opposite of the man’s direction. The gypsy kids had disappeared and the boy now looked at the reflection of himself in the diner’s window. It revealed nothing of past, nor hinted at the future. And that’s the beauty of things; there is no absolute truth that forever dictates one’s life. It all comes down to choices.

The weight of the watch in his pocket was noticeable, but perhaps more in meaning than anything else. Even if at one point it would stop telling time, it would forever tell a story of meeting the man at the docks. A new chapter awaits.

The boy smiled at his reflection and tipped his cap, before hurrying after the man.

“I’m coming, sir.”