The streets are dirty. The air; unclean. You hardly have to step out your front door to see people living in poverty. And I guess that makes you lucky to have a front door. And generally, if you have a door, you probably have windows, which would be easy to watch the homeless from, if you could see out them, that is. Everything is filthy, even the water to clean things is dirty.

But I guess it's for a good cause. With the cars and trains now available, we traded cleanliness for mobility. It's not exactly right, and it's definitely not fair, but for every action there is a reaction, and we have to live with our choices.

Jobs are as hard to find as people are not. I am one of the lucky ones. I get paid just enough to do what I do to manage a few dingy dresses and a small apartment. A decent enough life considering what I have around me. It's a good business, magic, especially if you're good. Of course, I'm a terrible liar, and it's magic how bad I am at illusions. So I'm an assistant. I'm the one who brings out all the supplies needed for the act, and I stand there and look pretty, so even if the guys in the audience don't believe in the tricks they might come back just to look at a girl in skimpy clothing anyway, thus drawing in more money. Yes, I know, it's not the most respectful job, but in this new world? It really doesn't matter.

We usually find our people that get sawed in half, have swords stabbed through them, appear to float, and disappear on the streets. The poor. We taunt them with money, then, once they've bitten, we take them to do a show. They usually live through the swords, and tricks, but the real magic happens when they disappear. When Mr. Hall ushers them into the box, they don't come back. He claims that he doesn't trust them with the secrets of his magic, and I have no choice but to believe him, because where else would they go? I don't even know how he does his stuff, I just watch and provide the equipment and smile. I've never questioned anything. If I'm being paid well, it's none of my concern. Though, I have wondered where all those people have gone, it's not my place.

And yet, I stand here, and it sounds as if all my secret little questions are about to be answered.

He tells me that he needs to keep doing his shows.

I nod, and say yes, it would be bad if he stopped, none of us would make any money.

He tells me that the police are starting to take an interest in the amount of people disappearing off the streets. Not an official interest, but they are looking into it.

I agree, then ask him what he thinks we should do.

He sighs and looks down at his shoes, then he tell me that he needs me to be his volunteer.

I don't say anything. I'm not sure I could if I tried.

We both know what this means, and he doesn't seem too keen on the idea.

What about the docks? I say. The police don't do anything with all the crime that happens there.

He shakes his head, They're watching me, he says, They suspect me.

I am silent. I don't know what it'll be like when he makes me disappear, and I don't want to find out.

I need this Ella, he says softly, I need you to do this for me.

I nod slowly, I'll do it for him. And haven't I always been curious anyway? I'll try it, maybe it'll be better.