Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 8 - "Upload Complete."
🕑 Added 2024-05-09 20:59:31 +0000 UTCJeremiah awoke screaming.
His back arched as glowing, aqua-colored lines spread outward from his sternum. Thousands of thin metal wires bore through his body, and Jeremiah could feel each one. Even through the fog of his half-awake state, his brain raced to process what was happening.
For the split second before his mind was buried under the agony, Jeremiah wondered if he was still dreaming. He clawed at his chest, where some remaining rational part of his mind told him the pain was originating from.
When his convulsing hands couldn’t get a grip on the object through the blood and sweat covering his chest, they fell to his side. Jeremiah grabbed at the sheets of his bed, his knuckles turning white as he tried to push himself up into a sitting position.
It was no use, however. Jeremiah’s arms barely felt under his own control as his body twisted and convulsed on his bed. Through the fog of pain, Jeremiah vaguely felt his arm lash out and connect with something smooth and hard to his side. As well as the thump of the object landing hard on the wooden floor of his sleeping area.
After what felt like hours — but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes — the burrowing invader finally stopped. All at once, Jeremiah’s body slumped, collapsing lifelessly to his blood-soaked bed.
Jeremiah lay there for several moments, unmoving but for his steady, deep breaths. Soon, the burning, tearing pain radiating throughout his body slowly faded. He lifted one leaden arm and lay it across his eyes. Tears mingled with sweat and blood as he lay there.
Slowly, he lifted his other arm and touched his chest. Through the slick blood, Jeremiah could feel the icy touch of… metal? He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position, then, on shaking legs, stood.
Instantly, a wave of lightheadedness nearly made Jeremiah collapse, but he pushed through. One unstable step after another, Jeremiah slowly approached the nearby standing mirror. He still hadn’t moved the thing from where he unpacked it…
Jeremiah flipped on the nearby light switch… and froze.
The figure that stared back from the mirror, mimicking the young man’s bulging eyes and gaping mouth, wasn’t Jeremiah…
At least, not the Jeremiah that had gone to sleep.
Jeremiah would have never called himself muscular. Fit, maybe, but never the figure of chiseled features and toned muscle common to Brute-types. Many CSA workers would fit right at a weightlifting competition. Even those few Ungifted CSA workers had bodies built up from years of intense work.
Even after only a few months, Jeremiah had seen the results of such grueling work himself. His arms had become firmer, his chest a bit wider, and his stomach flatter.
Now, staring back at him from the mirror, was the husk of a man.
While not rail thin, his arms and legs appeared emaciated and deflated. His stomach was slightly concave, as if he’d not had a good meal in a few days, and Jeremiah could count his ribs as they poked out of his chest.
Even his cheeks were slightly shallow, and deep bags hung under his eyes, thin trails of bloody tears already drying. Jeremiah reached up with a shaking, too-thin hand and gently touched the mirror. The figure staring back copied him, their brow furrowing, their mouth opening and closing, as if trying to ask the other what the hell they were looking at.
More than the strange transformation, however, what drew Jeremiah’s attention the most was the pulsing, glowing metal rhombus embedded in his chest. It sat just above his heart, on top of a strange, pitch-black tattoo Jeremiah knew for a fact hadn’t been there when he’d gone to sleep.
The tattoo itself was simple — little more than a thick ring packed with strange, swirling lines inside its borders. At its edges, eight beams of light pointed outward like the lines of a compass.
As for the metal object embedded in the middle of the tattoo — and his chest — Jeremiah recognized it instantly.
“Sarah… what… what did you do to me?!” he said.
Jeremiah’s voice came out soft and ragged. His throat felt raw, and he could faintly taste blood in the back of his mouth. It was then he realized he had likely been screaming the entire time he struggled on the bed.
Another wave of intense dizziness swept through him, and Jeremiah steadied himself with a hand on the mirror, leaving a bloody streak on the glass.
As he caught his breath, a sudden heavy pounding on his door made Jeremiah jump.
“Jeremiah! JEREMIAH! ANSWER ME, LAD!” the voice from behind the door yelled. Mr. Roger’s heavy pounding on the door caused it to raddle on its hinges. Jeremiah didn’t doubt for a second if he didn’t respond, Mr. Roger wouldn’t hesitate to break the door down.
As if to confirm his thoughts, Mr. Roger spoke through the door once more. “I’m coming in, boy! You better not be dead on me!”
“I’m here!” Jeremiah said in haste, his voice still raw and cracking. “Just… give me a minute!”
Jeremiah was worried for a moment that the large man behind the door couldn’t hear him, but the pounding stopped shortly after.
Slowly, Jeremiah hobbled to the kitchen. “Just give me a minute, Mr. Roger!” he repeated.
As quickly as his aching body would allow, Jeremiah used the kitchen sink to wash off as much blood and sweat as he could from his face and upper body. He paused and stared down at the pendant embedded in his chest.
Jeremiah internally debated what to do. Part of him knew that whatever was happening was beyond him, and another part gawked at letting anyone know. Whatever this… thing was, there was no doubt it was Sarah’s tech. If the city found out that he had this… Something told Jeremiah things wouldn’t end with just a fine and a slap on his wrist.
Jeremiah glanced back toward the door. “Lad, are you still there?” Mr. Roger asked from the other side.
“Coming!” Jeremiah said before grabbing a long-sleeved, baggy shirt from the back of the couch where it had been discarded. He trusted Mr. Roger… to an extent. But until Jeremiah fully understood what was happening, there was no need to drag the man into things — not just because it might put the old man in danger, either.
Instead, Jeremiah hobbled to his door and flicked off the lights as he passed. Hopefully, the combination of the darkness and his baggy shirt would help to hide his current state.
Jeremiah cracked his door and peered through to see Mr. Roger standing there, his fist raised to knock again. Seeing the door open, Mr. Roger lowered his hand and frowned at Jeremiah.
“Are you alright lad?! I heard you screamin’. Bloody hells, I’m pretty sure half the building did,” the older man said. While the man frowned down at Jeremiah, the obvious worry in his voice sent a pang of guilt through the younger man’s heart.
“Ya, I’m fine, Mr. Roger. It was just… a nightmare, that’s all…” Jeremiah said, trying to laugh off the other man’s concern.
Mr. Roger narrowed his eyes and deepened his frown. “That must have been some nightmare, lad. Are you sure everything is alright?”
Jeremiah nodded and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah…, I saw one of those ROUS in the sewers the other day. Guess it got to me. I’ll be alright, Mr. Roger. Thanks for looking after me. I appreciate it… really.”
Mr. Roger stared down at Jeremiah in silence for a moment longer before sighing, his shoulders slumping. “Aye, no problem, my boy. I’m glad to see you’re alright.” He then reached through the door crack and patted Jeremiah on the shoulder, causing the younger man to flinch slightly. “Just remember, if you ever need anything, I’m right across the hallway. You hear me?” he said, continuing.
Jeremiah nodded, “Thank you, Mr. Roger. I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight.”
Mr. Roger nodded, then pulled away. “Goodnight, lad. Sweet dreams. Or at least ones not filled with giant rats.” Mr. Roger and Jeremiah shared a laugh before the older man waved and turned away. Jeremiah shut the door behind him.
Jeremiah stared at the door for a long moment, a sharp pain in his heart unrelated to whatever his sister’s pendant had done to him. It felt… wrong, lying to his neighbor like that, but what other option did he have? For as much as Jeremiah liked Mr. Roger as a person, he was just a normal guy. Even if he asked for help, what could the older man do? If he went to anyone for help, it would be Ryan. But Jeremiah had heard nothing from him in months.
Jeremiah clutched his head and leaned it up against the cold door. He could still feel echoes of metal wires burrowing through his body. Yet, as minutes ticked by, the memory began to slowly… dull? They didn’t fade, rather become less… real. Like an awful nightmare slipping through his fingers. As they did, Jeremiah could feel his eyelids drooping and a heavy weight overtake his mind.
Sleep… Mr. Roger was right… he needed… sleep. Jeremiah’s eyes clouded over slightly. He was so sleepy…
Slowly, Jeremiah walked back to his sleeping area, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging. Part of him knew he should be more worried about what had just happened to him. Knew that he needed answers. That he likely needed to tell someone.
But the rest of him felt as though he were walking through molasses, and the only thought that could piece the strange fog wrapping his mind was the call of his bed and the sweet allure of sleep. With each step, his resolve weakened.
The cloud of weariness suddenly parted when Jeremiah’s foot slammed into something hard and heavy at the foot of his bed. When Jeremiah finished cursing, he looked down to see Billy’s fishbowl sitting on the floor.
He stared at it for a moment, his brow furrowing as a faint memory of hitting something in his pain-filled writhing flooded back.
Jeremiah’s eyes went wide, and he quickly reached down to lift the bowl from where it had been knocked down. He breathed a heavy sigh, and his shoulders relaxed, seeing that the bowl hadn’t been damaged from its fall. Moreover, it didn’t even seem to have lost any water, and Jeremiah couldn’t see a puddle nearby.
Strange…, he thought to himself, though his tired mind brushed the mystery to the side, a heavy blanket of sleep creeping up on him to smothering the oddity. He placed Billy’s bowl back on the bedside table where it belonged and crawled into bed. As his tired mind drifted off to sleep, he could see Billy’s tiny figure peeking his head out of the plastic castle.
Meeting his gaze, Billy pulled himself out and waved his little tentacles in Jeremiah’s direction.
Jeremiah smiled at the sight, glad Billy hadn’t been hurt. As Jeremiah’s eyes slowly closed and his mind drifted off to sleep, something popped into his mind’s eye — a small blue screen reminiscent of a common optical HUD.
——————✴——————
Name: Billy
Species: Polaris Kraken
Age: 0 years, 2 months, 1 week, 3 days.
Grade: G - 7.5
Mental: G-2
Physical: G-0.5
Supernatural: G-5
Rarity: Mythical
Pedigree: 8 Stars
Ecology: These mythical creatures, once called the ‘Heralds of the Guiding Star,’ are said to lead wayward ships to safety during harsh storms when no stars are visible. Its glowing light, vast power, and gentle nature have made it a deity of protection and an omen of safety and good luck for sailors across millennia.
Woe onto the fool who tempts these gentle giants’ goodwill and kind nature, for even if the creature may forgive, the Sea does not take kindly to the mistreatment of one of her favorite children.
The lost ship, abandoned by its guiding star, will never find shore again.
——————✴——————
—————————————————————
Mr. Roger’s grin slipped as he stared at Jeremiah’s closed door. From down the hall, another door opened, and a middle-aged woman in a nightgown walked out.
She stopped beside him, her arms crossed. “So? What’s the news, David? Is he dead? I told you this would be a bad idea. If someone finds out…” she said, her voice hushed but firm.
David’ Davey’ Roger shook his bald head. “No, no, Merry, false alarm. The lad just had some night terrors, is all. Nothin’ to worry about,” he answered just as quietly.
Merry frowned, narrowed her eyes, and stared at the man three times her size with the glare of a disapproving mother. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. “If you say so. Never heard nightmares that bad, though. Makes you wonder what those fools at the CSA office are having the kids do now these days.”
David laughed and shrugged. “It’s nothing to worry about; the lad said so himself. If he needs help, I’m sure he’ll ask in time. Good night, Merry. Thanks for checking up on him as well,” he said, giving the woman a wave as she turned and walked back to her apartment.
“No problem at all, dear. It’s part of my job. Good night, David.”
When the woman’s door clicked shut, David turned and made his way to his own apartment. As he did, he raised his hand and stared at the few drops of fresh blood staining them. The blood sparkled blue for a brief moment, almost undetectable if one didn’t know what to look for. He smiled lightly, then wiped his hands clean on his shirt and opened the door, muttering to the empty hallway.
“Ya… nothing to worry about…”
He then walked inside and shut the door behind him.
Comments
Osamaru Ta
I feel like this one might need a slight rewrite. What do you think?
