A young boy woke up in one of the Central City's hospitals. It wasn't anything important; young boys wake up in hospitals every day. But this boy looked at his right hand and made a surprised face.
'What the hell…' he murmured. A nurse noticed he woke up and came closer to him.
'How are you, little one?' she asked with an imitated smile. The boy hesitated for a while.
'It hurts' he said finally.
'Where?'
'My head… and ribs. There hurts the most.'
'Would you want something to soothe the pain?'
'Yes, please…'
The boy swallowed the pill the nurse gave him. Then he looked at his hand again.
'Why is it… steel?' he asked.
'It seems you've had it for a quite long time, assuming from scratches on it. What's your name?'
'I can't remember' the boy said calmly, although he was terrified. 'Where are my clothes? Maybe I could remember if I take a look…'
'Not now. Lie down and try to sleep…'
The boy obeyed. With his head tightly bandaged, he didn't feel like thinking over to find his name. He just wanted some rest. The pain stopped and the boy fell asleep.
When he woke up again, he demanded his clothes. The nurse who was present this time gave him a pile of worn-out clothes. The boy frowned, watching them. There was nothing special; black jackets with a metal bar for fastening were on top, so almost every teenager had one; a black t-shirt could belong to anyone, no matter how old were they; black trousers shyly suggested a subculture in which everyone looked the same; black, leather boots suggested the same. There was one more detail: a metal chain was hanging from the belt. It was obvious that this chain was longer before and that there must have been something on the end of it, but the boy had no idea what it could be. All the pockets were empty; there wasn't even a used train ticket.
'How did I get here?' the boy asked.
'Someone noticed you, lying near a telephone box, and called an ambulance. You were seriously injured… the police already know. Someone must have attacked you…'
'Could it be that the same person attacked me and called an ambulance?'
'No, we can't consider this. It was obvious that the ambulance was called more than an hour after you got injured.'
'So I was lying there for over an hour… and no one noticed?'
'I don't know what you were doing there, but it's a very dangerous place, especially at night. You can't be from Central City if you didn't know, and you didn't know for sure, because if you did, you wouldn't go there. Almost no one goes this way, but a State Alchemist went… and saw you.'
'State Alchemist…' the boy repeated. 'Central City…'
'Does this ring a bell?'
'No. I'm sorry.'
'It's not your fault. After a shock, or being hit, you could lose your memory just temporarily. If you don't regain it in several days, we'll try to help you.'
The boy just nodded. He lied when he said that the words "State Alchemist" and "Central City" didn't remind him anything; in fact, they gave him a slight feeling he should remember, somehow important, just like his steel arm and chain. Then a terrifying feeling came to him.
He couldn't be from Central City. He was a stranger. No one could know him here. This meant that no one could tell him his name… no one could help him. The boy asked for a pen and a piece of paper.
"Central City", "State Alchemist". He wrote down these words. He felt like he was trying to solve a jigsaw having only two pieces. Three – he wrote down "chain". But all these pieces needed more to have anything in common.
The boy lay down, turning his face to the bed on his left. There lay a little girl with light-brown hair and amber eyes.
Amber eyes. The boy thought it should also remind him of something. He wrote down these two words.
Maybe he was meant to find here a state alchemist with amber eyes?
