Demitri Baltimore was a simple young man. He got up in the morning, went to work at the Marquee Glass-Blowing Company, he came home, washed up, ate supper, read a book, and went to bed. There was nothing particularly unique about him. He was of average height, a little on the more rotund side. He was mild-mannered, polite, quiet, and generally inoffensive.
He wore round spectacles that suited his round, rosy face. He preferred bow ties and plaid vests. He had short, brown hair he kept combed properly. He had a sleepy tabby cat he fed at the same time every day, at his modest apartment.
He loved to read any and every kind of book he could get his hands on. He did well in school as a child. He came from a family of a lower-middle class income. He was told to pick a trade to learn, such as it was done in his family. His older brother was a blacksmith. He, the youngest brother, chose glass blowing. A trade which, he found, came to suit him just fine. He did well enough in it, having a large lung capacity, a steady hand, and a particular attention to detail.
Life was alright for Demitri Baltimore. At least he thought so. Sure, perhaps he would find himself at the scavengers market when it came to town, staring longingly at some old world books, or pre-ascension trinkets or treasures he desired to know all about. Sometimes, he'd buy something. Sometimes he wouldn't.
Though truly his desire to collect books and relics from the old world before mankind ascended the clouds to escape the world they had ravaged with hate and war and pestilence of the most wretched kind. Pieces of the world before it was ruined. Before the floating kingdoms of steel and cogs and avarice. Books were his very favorite kind of relic. Something so rare and precious, full of stories, histories, philosophies and ideas. That of sciences that described the world that seemed so far below them. His collection, he kept in a large towering cabinet in his run down modest apartment was the only thing in life he coveted.
In this old beat up cabinet held his books, his trinkets and treasures of the old world. Collections of classics, ranging in all areas of genre, even those that didn't interest him much, curated and alphabetized with the diligence of a veteran librarian. Decorated with coveted chunks of minerals, metals, defunct gadgets, even a piece of scrimshaw that delighted him to no end the day he found it. It was a piece of bone of something called a whale which he found had lived in this great vastness of water called the ocean. In the side of the chunk of ivory colored mass was etched an incredible pictorial story of a one legged sailor who hunted the beast down.
He had found it on a table spread completely with junk at the bazaar, the grizzled scavenger seemed to care little for what he had except for the 50 cents he deemed it worth.
Demitri was giddy walking on air studying it the whole way home. It was among the more prized of his collection. He had seen in an encyclopedia he found, a black and white photograph of a hanging whale skeleton in a museum and seen depictions of them in paintings. He adored learning everything about the old world but the stories and adventures of those out at sea were a particular delight to him.
You see, although he was relatively content with his simple, unremarkable everyday life, he did had a love of learning, and collecting. He had loved school, and mourned at his graduation. Sometimes, when he really dared to dream big, he'd stare off in the distance on his way to work at the glass factory. When he would be on the peak of the hill he had to walk up on his daily commute, he'd look over the old city, and a certain collection of buildings would always catch his eye. The prestigious Lochshore University would catch his eye, with its great tall stone pillars and hand-carved gothic accents decorating all the buildings on its historic grounds, on the edge of which, was corner capped by Saint Olga Memorial Hospital.
Sometimes he would daydream that he was walking there, instead. On his way, suitcase filled with books and papers and notes about all the fascinating things to know about the world, history, science, literature, et cetera, he was learning. Dreaming about it warmed his heart. Perhaps one day, he thought, he could become a respected, passionate Professor, inspiring a new generation of students every year, in a grand lecture hall!
Thinking of it always made him smile. And then he would begin descending the hill. Down below, would emerge the front of the large glass factory, coming into view. Then Demitri would remember who he was, and where he was actually going, and he'd sigh and continue toward his destination, arriving at the same time, every morning, 6:05am on the dot. He'd walk in, hang up his jacket, greet the clockmaster with the same, "Good morning," has he did everyday, and then make his way to his station to begin heating up the furnace for the day, and then check the cooling furnace for any pieces that had broken in the night.
Then, he'd set to work. Blowing lamps, and window panes, and vases and wine glasses, he'd show the rookies how to make marbles, and that sort of thing. Then at 5pm, he'd say goodbye to the clockmaster, punch his card, grab his jacket and go home.
And when he got back to his humble apartment, his cat would greet him at the door. He'd wash off the soot and grime of the day, tend to any accidental burns, cook up a humble dinner, feed his cat, and then sit in his armchair to read a good book. Some of his favorites were those of fantasy, action, and adventure. But historical reads, or scientific, or particularly anything about the world before the ascension, were positively stimulating.
There were also times, despite the devoted efforts of his cat, Delilah, he did become lonely. Sometimes wishing for a wife to talk to, to share his little discoveries with. His musings of the day. Yes he would have supper with his brother Nicolas and his Vlasta, on occasion, but Nicolas, despite being a very warm, jovial, high spirited man, didn't really share much enthusiasm for Demitri's books or treasures. Though, he knew it meant a lot to his brother and humored him in what ways he could. Demitri could always tell when his attention was waning but his effort was always appreciated.
Even with his unimpressive wages, he might have easily been able to afford a nicer apartment, or fancier food, or more extravagant amenities, but at heart, he was a very frugal man. A trait he was imbued with from a young age. Maybe here and there he would splurge on a book or old world relic, and add it to his collection on his bookshelf. But that was all. That was his life. No more, no less. It wasn't a lot, but it was his. And he counted his blessings.
Perhaps then, that's the way it might have stayed. Perhaps he would have forever been a humble glassblower, with a cat and a book collection. Going to work, coming home. Growing old, in the company of Delilah.
Perhaps that's what might have happened. At least, had he not come across what he did, in the cold dark street, on his way home that frigid December evening. He didn't realize it at the time, things moved far too quickly. But the consequences of what Demitri Baltimore would do that night, would change the entire course of his destiny, and perhaps even, his entire world.