The Big Ben tolled its bell. It was six o’clock in the morning. It was time for work.
Ethan put on his shoes and his small soot-covered hat. The soot turned the pale white skin on his face black. He brushed his curly black hair and put on his blue bib overall after gobbling down his meager portion of porridge. He checked on his brother and mother, who were still sleeping. Ethan left his mother and brother some food and walked out of the tiny house into the thick, stale air of Victorian London.
As he stepped outside, he made sure to be alert, as Whitechapel was crawling with thieves and muggers at dusk and dawn. He looked over the row of run down houses and saw the smoke belching steamboats make their way across the murky Thames, shipping goods produced at the very factory in which he worked. The factories released smoke like a hefty gentleman who was blowing the smoke from an entire pack of cigars.
Ethan was the only moneymaker in his household. His mother was very weak and feeble and his brother, Jack, had his legs damaged by faulty machinery. Still, the money was not enough. Ethan knew that with the changing economy of the Industrial Revolution and the inflation at the Bank of England, his salary wouldn’t be enough and he and his family would be living on the streets soon.
He sighed as approached the crude and nasty red brick factory and made his way up the check-in line where the other forty children were checking in.
“Ethan Frye, age 11,” he said to the foreman.
“Go in, boy. You’re working with the ol’ metal compressor today. She’s not been fired up in weeks. Good luck,” the man said, menacingly, with a devilish smile on his face.
Ethan made his way into the main block of the factory, and saw his friend Henry, whom he has been a friend with his since they were children. Henry covered for Ethan almost every day. He even took four beatings for Ethan in one day and Ethan took disciplinary actions for Henry for a full week. They would do anything for each other.
“Hello, Ethan. Right on time today,” said Henry.
“I wonder whose gonna get their arm smashed off today,” Ethan joked. “We’re working with the compressor.”
“Right, the compressor. Cost poor Charlie his leg a few months back, haven’t seen the chap since,” Henry added.
“Get to work, maggots!” shouted the foreman. “Or I’ll have Sweeney Todd gut you and bake you into pies himself!”
Ethan and Henry activated the compressor and got to work, crushing one piece of metal at a time and then loading it on the steamboat around the back of the factory. They worked for three hours and took their break.
The factory was on the bank of the Thames, and Ethan and Henry would go on the docks during free time and observe lively London and stare into the vast blue sky, on a sunny day, that is.
“Look there, a train!” Henry pointed out. It was belching out dark black smoke on the green bridge as it passed over the river to Westminster, the rich district of London where Ethan’s father lived as a royal. The black smoke gave the appearance of clouds from Hell itself, rising up against the red-orange sky.
  “I wish we could be out there, explorin’ the world, not rotting our lives away in a damn factory submitting to the orders of no good men like my own father,” groaned Ethan.
“It’s the only way you can support your family, Ethan. I have only myself to take care of, but you, you have your brother and your mother. You can’t just leave ‘em behind just so we can go and jolly about on the streets!” cried Henry.
“Calm down friend, I was just sayin’. It’s noon, we have to go back in,” Ethan said.
Ethan and Henry proceeded on with their work, until their responsibilities were changed. Ethan was now in charge of watching the cooling system and helping with the compressor, while Henry had to work in the boiling room.
“Oi, you there!” a foreman shouted at Ethan, who was operating the compressor with another boy, James. “Get up ‘ere!” the man shouted. “I need help turning this knob!”
Ethan bolted up the stairs, not wanting another beating for disobeying orders. James would continue to work with the compressor.
Just as Ethan arrived, James pulled the lever to bring the compression system down. Instead of the system coming down normally, the rope on the pulley tore, causing the heavy metal rafter at the top of the compressor to become loose. It slipped off of its hinges and crashed down on James who let out a bloodcurdling scream. Ethan saw it all right in front of his eyes.
Ethan and three other boys rushed to his aid. James was lifted out of the rubble with a shard of metal lodged in his arm.
  “You’re coming with me to see Mr. Frye about your little incident!” a foreman said as he dragged James by the arm to the factory’s upper levels, leaving the other workers stunned.
Ethan hated the name Frye, even though it was his own surname. His father left his family behind after he was offered an opportunity as a factory manager and a house in Westminster.  He took the offer straight away, leaving his two sons and wife behind. Now he ran the very factory that Ethan worked at.
Making his way to the compressor, Ethan remembered a conversation he had with Henry on the first day they started working at the factory.
“How do you work here knowing the brute that runs it is your own father that left you?” was the question Henry asked. Ethan responded by saying it’s the only way he can make money and he’ll have to put up with it.
Ethan thought about his experiences while he was helping cleaning up the blood around the compressor when a guard interrupted him.
“Mr. Frye wants a word with, you, son, ha!” said a guard, mocking Ethan. He escorted Ethan up to the office, where Ethan’s father stood, waiting.
Ethan entered the office with disgust and stared at his father, who was holding a paper slip.
“What in God’s name happened with the compressor today?” Mr. Frye asked, angrily.
“I left James with it, I don’t know what happened after that,” Ethan said abruptly.
“Thanks for the information,” Mr. Frye said sarcastically. “You’re just about as useful as your mother and brother, you pathetic miscreant. Take this paper and deliver it to Mr. Ferris; maybe that’s a task you can actually accomplish.”
“You greedy scoundrel, all you wanted was the money. You left me and Jack and Ma behind so you could live in your fancy house and make a good wage and not have to pay or support any of us!” Ethan ranted at him as he stuffed the paper into his pocket.
“Escort this annoyance out of my office, please,” Mr. Frye said to his guard.
“At once, sir. Come with me, boy!” the guard ushered.
As Ethan made his way to Mr. Ferris’s office, he looked at the paper. He was confused at first, as it read: “1:03 PM-James Shile destroys metal compressor; fired and sent off to another factory in Crawley.” Ethan remembered that James didn’t destroy nor break the machine; it was an unsecure rope that had snapped. On the paper, there were numerous other incidents about workers causing the machines to break even when Ethan remembered that they had nothing to with the machine’s failure. He then realized something; he bolted off to find Henry.
“Henry, look here, I’ve found somethin’!” said Ethan, out of breath. “My father has been lying about the factory workers, he’s been firing ‘em saying they caused machinery failure. But why? Why would he fire his workers, wouldn’t it only make the working process go by slower?”.
“Well, if he has less workers and he’s getting paid in proportion, then he’s gonna get more money since there’s less people to pay,” Henry said insightfully.
“Good God, you’re right! I have to show this to the police or a factory official! My father is scamming for money!” said Ethan.
“I didn’t know you had it in you to defy anyone, Ethan. You’ll get fired, sent away! There’s no way you can get away with such an act. No other places will accept you after they know you’ve acted against policies. How will you support your family then?” remarked Henry.
“Henry, my father is accusing innocent children of things they have not done! These children are being sent God knows where on false account so my father can profit, and no other living soul knows about it other than you and me. This needs to be stopped!” exclaimed Ethan.
Henry thought in silence. He didn’t say anything.
“Very well, I shall go home and decide. I will deliver another paper to Mr. Ferris and give you the real paper. I trust you more than I trust myself with it, Henry.”
Henry took the paper and waved goodbye to Ethan. Henry looked at the paper once more, looked upon the beautiful London skyline, and made his way to the police depot.
Ethan went home, stunned about his experience at the factory. He didn’t know what to do. His father, the devil, could be sending children to their deaths for an extra shilling in his pocket. Ethan thought that even Henry couldn’t save him this time. He went home, dumped his day’s pay on the table, and went to bed without saying a word.
Meanwhile, the London Metropolitan Police were busy making an arrest.
“Mr. Frye, you are under arrest on account of fraud, profit scam, and juvenile abuse! As per your rights, you have one final act of business,” said the officer.
“I want the lad who reported me gone! I want him sent out of England!” shouted Mr. Frye, before being subdued by the officer.
~
Ethan awoke the next day and made his way to the factory.
“Extra! Factory manager released for false accusations!” Ethan heard the paperboy shout. He thought nothing of it. 
However, his father and Henry were absent, and unusual sight. He later discovered through a briefing that Mr. Frye had been fired without pay and Henry had been deported off to India to work in even worse conditions. The briefer warned it was best that the children keep out of official business unless they want a repeat of this incident.
  …
Henry was called the hero of the factory from there on. He had voluntarily left behind everything he held dear so that the generations of children that work in that factory wouldn’t have to go through the horrors of Mr. Frye and his lieutenants. Ethan took the actions his best friend had taken and put them into a lesson which he recited every day: “Weak and submissive people don’t have the opportunity to have confidence and fight for themselves and others.”

~

In his later years, Ethan helped take care of children at Lambeth Asylum. One day while he was strolling about on the streets, he saw a group of children steal a boy’s cap and insult him.
“Boy, why don’t you go get your cap from those bullies,” Ethan said to the boy.
“I’m scared they’ll hurt me, Mister. I think I’ll just get a new one,” the boy said timidly as he turned away.
“That’s no way to be strong. Have some confidence. Go, get it back,” Ethan said assertively.
“Wadda you know about strength and confidence, Mister? You try stealin’ that cap back,” the boy said with an attitude.
Ethan looked at the boy with a smirk. “What do I know about strength and bravery? Well, lad, let me tell you somethin’; a story about a friend I had when I was eleven….”