Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 4 - "Time Marches On."
🕑 Added 2024-04-29 20:02:14 +0000 UTC————————————————
Monday, September 19th, 2253
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Sigh…
Jeremiah stood outside the apartment building, rolling his stiff shoulder and trying to work out the knot in his back — the stubborn ache that had haunted him for weeks now. It was the price of leaping straight from lecture halls into day labor, a jarring transition after years spent buried in textbooks.
He’d tried to stay fit, of course. A few months back, he’d fully expected to spend the fall interning at the main clinic of Prima City’s Grand Beast Zoo, a post coveted by many. Prima City, as one of Nexus’s largest urban hubs, boasted a zoo famous not just for its sheer size, but for housing rare creatures from countless worlds, including some rather formidable magical and fae beasts.
In a place like that, letting yourself go soft was a recipe for disaster.
Now, after almost two weeks of odd jobs, from laying shingles to road repair, Jeremiah was kicking himself in the butt for his overconfidence. There was always something to fix or fortify in Prima City. Between creatures from the Outer Wilds slipped through the cracks and rogue Gifted made messes, the cycle of rebuilding never stopped.
Technically, such ‘City Support Agents’ jobs were open to anyone. Or, more accurately, the city would hire anyone willing to work.
So on paper, it was public service work, paid for by the people, and the city prided itself on being a place where anyone could find employment. In reality, such crews were typically packed with minor Brute-types — those with just enough strength or stamina to outpace ordinary laborers but not enough power for specialist jobs.
That meant the few Ungifted desperate enough to take CSA work were often pushed to their limits, expected to keep pace with Gifted coworkers. Oh, sure, the bosses made a show of at least listening to complaints or concerns, but the general culture was that if you couldn’t handle the work, that was a ‘you’ problem.
After all, Titans and supervillains don’t care if you need a break from patching the walls or hauling debris, Jeremiah thought wryly.
Not that he hadn’t tried for something better…
Ring… Ring… Ri—
He paused as his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the chain of thought. Jeremiah fished out his smartphone, a small smile tugging at his lips. The battered device was one of the last pieces of his sister’s tech that hadn’t ended up with the city. The only reason he still had it was because, technically, Ryan had done the modifications — even if the design was Sarah’s.
His eyes widened a fraction at the number flashing on the screen.
“Hello?” he answered, cautiously.
“Hello! Is this Mr. Bridge?” chirped a voice on the other end.
“Speaking…”
“Excellent! I’m glad I was able to reach you so quickly. This is Jacob, calling you back about your application for the secretary position at our clinic.”
“Mr. Jacob! Yes, thank you for getting in touch so soon!” Jeremiah replied, a note of hope slipping into his voice. Soon was right. He’d only interviewed last Friday.
“Good, good. I wanted to let you know we were very impressed with your resume. You’ve got quite a skill set, I must say…”
Jeremiah’s heart leapt, his back straightening and a real smile flickering across his lips.
“Thank you, sir!” he said, his tone brightening. “I’m glad I made a good impression!”
“Yes, Mr. Bridge… Which makes this next part all the more difficult…”
Jeremiah stilled, the smile draining from his face. His heart lurched.
“What do you mean?” he managed, voice tight.
A pause hung on the line, awkward and heavy. “I just want to reiterate how strong your candidacy was… but after further discussion with the doctors, I’m afraid we’ve decided to move forward with another applicant at this time. I’m sorry.”
Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped. The bright spark in his eyes dulled as the old, familiar weight settled over him.
“Mr. Bridge? Are you still there?” Jacob prompted when silence lingered too long.
Jeremiah forced a breath, shaking his head to clear it. “Ah—yes, I’m here. I see… Well, thank you for letting me know,” he replied, his voice flat.
“No problem at all, Mr. Bridge. As I said, we were rather impressed, and I didn’t feel it was right to leave you wondering. We’ll be keeping your file on hand, and if another position opens that matches your skills, I’ll be in touch.”
“…Thanks,” Jeremiah said quietly.
“You’re very welcome. Have a good day, Mr. Bridge.” The call ended with a click.
Jeremiah stood there, phone pressed to his ear, the hum of the disconnect ringing in his head. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding together.
‘Other candidate.’ Yeah, right. He’d heard some version of this call too many times in the past month, though this clinic was one of only three that had even bothered to follow up.
Just five months ago, he’d had to turn away internship offers. As Sarah’s brother, and a student at one of Nexus’s top medical colleges, doors had opened for him on reputation alone.
He hadn’t coasted, either. He’d earned his place — Summa cum laude, three years running. Never first in the class, not with people like Samantha around, but always near the top.
Now, it felt like his name was a mark no one wanted to touch. Previous offers had vanished, one after another, always with vague explanations and careful excuses.
His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles blanched. He stood there, fighting the black clouds swirling inside, until finally he exhaled and forced himself to breathe. When his head cleared, he stepped up and pressed his palm against the door’s biometric scanner.
A cool blue light swept over his hand before flicking green. The lock disengaged with a soft click. Jeremiah pushed the door, but paused on the threshold, brow furrowing.
He hesitated, eyes narrowing as he peered inside, a thoughtful hum rumbling in his chest.
Jeremiah studied the doorframe, eyes scanning every groove and seam. He reached forward, waving his hand through the entryway, gliding it up and down, even sweeping it across the floor just inside the threshold. Satisfied nothing seemed amiss, he braced himself and took a long stride across the doorway — only for nothing to happen.
He exhaled, half relieved, half exasperated, and shook his head before heading for the stairs.
It still amazed him that a building with such a cutting-edge security system hadn’t bothered with something as basic as an elevator. Three flights of stairs every day, and he didn’t envy anyone living higher up. Not that he’d met many of the other residents in his weeks here—only a handful from his own floor.
Oddly enough, with every step upward, the gloom from his recent phone call seemed to fade, as if each floor he climbed put more distance between him and the world’s problems outside.
By the time he reached his door, Jeremiah felt a shade lighter than before. The lock recognized him and clicked open, the sound a small welcome. He nudged the door inward.
Gone was the stripped-down, barren apartment he’d moved into two weeks prior. In its place was a cozy patchwork of plush chairs and soft throws. Nothing in the room was expensive — some pieces didn’t even match — but it wasn’t the TV-on-a-cardboard-box that was stereotypical of ‘bachelor apartments.’
For all Sarah’s brilliance, home decor was never her strong suit, Jeremiah mused, a faint smile curling his lips.
If she’d had her way, every room would have been packed with servers or look like a tornado had blown through a university archive. The task of making their house guest-ready had always fallen to him, and he’d gotten decent at it over the years. Now, bit by bit, his new place felt a little more like home.
He paused at the threshold, letting his gaze sweep the room. His heart thudded, a sheen of sweat prickling his palms as he scrutinized every detail, instincts prickling.
A split second later, his muscles tensed, and he slid back, just in time to avoid something whistling past his nose at blistering speed. The projectile thudded into the far wall, exploding into a puff of white powder.
“That’s bullcrap! No way you dodged that!” a youthful voice called out from the kitchen, left of the doorway.
Jeremiah turned to see Mani Grim in the middle of his kitchen, grinning wildly from behind what looked suspiciously like a makeshift ballista, if one constructed from his kitchen appliances and a fitness resistance band.
“I told you it wouldn’t work. You already tried this one,” another voice said. Jeremiah turned to see Alan Grim stooping to collect the makeshift projectile from the floor. Alan brushed away the white dust the thing had left on the wall. It looked like a battered blackboard eraser, the kind you’d only see in old movies. Jeremiah blinked. Where had they even found one of those? Most schools had switched to smart boards ages ago.
Mani just grinned, undeterred. “Well, what about this?”
Jeremiah sighed, raising a hand just in time to pluck a hefty water balloon from the air before it could splatter across his head. Both Grim boys gawked. Jeremiah simply turned and looked up.
Pressed against the ceiling above the door, Stella balanced with her toes hooked on the frame, staring down in wide-eyed shock.
Before she could react, Jeremiah tossed the balloon back at her. She yelped as it burst, soaking her as she tumbled from her perch. Jeremiah caught the dripping girl, setting her gently on the ground.
Mani jabbed a finger at Jeremiah. “Okay, now I do call bull! You’re not a Precog. No way you saw that coming!” he protested.
Jeremiah stared flatly at Mani, then pointed to the corner of the room, where a tall standing mirror leaned against the wall, freshly out of its packaging. Its position gave a perfect view of both the kitchen and the doorframe, directly in his line of sight when he walked in. He’d meant to move it to his sleeping area later that day.
Mani’s eyes went wide as realization dawned. He slumped to his knees in defeat.
Stella folded her arms, cheeks burning, her best pout on display.
Alan only shook his head and broke into deep, hearty laughter.
After a moment, Mani leapt up again, finger outstretched. “Fine! You win this round! But we’ll get you next time!” he declared.
Jeremiah only sighed and rubbed his temples. “Mani, Stella, Alan… mind answering a question?”
All three paused, tilting their heads in unison.
“…How did you get into my apartment?” Jeremiah asked.
Mani’s grin returned, wide and triumphant. “Easy! You left your window unlocked!”
Jeremiah froze, eyes widening. Without a word, he strode to the sole window in the apartment — a double-panel meant to let in just enough sunlight so it didn’t feel like a tomb. He slid it open and stared at the dizzying three-story drop below.
Then, to the right, he spotted the narrow ledge running along the building’s side. It looked barely wide enough for a cat, let alone a trio of kids.
Wordlessly, Jeremiah closed the window, staring out for a long moment before locking it with finality.
“Smart idea, huh?!” Mani said, grinning ear to ear.
Jeremiah just leaned silently against the windowsill, expression unreadable.
“Uh… Jerry?” Mani tried, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.
Without a word, Jeremiah pushed off from the window and started walking toward the open door.
“I’m telling your mother,” he said, voice perfectly flat.
The Grim kids froze, their eyes going wide. In a flurry of motion, they scrambled after him.
“WAIT! It’s just a misunderstanding!” Stella cried, panic in her tone.
“I just got ungrounded!” Mani wailed.
“Hold on, Mr. Jeremiah, let’s not be hasty! We can talk this out, can’t we?” Alan pleaded, hastily backpedaling in front of Jeremiah.
As Jeremiah marched down the hall, Stella and Mani latched onto his arms, hanging from him and trying to drag him back. Alan shuffled along backward, blocking his path, hands raised in surrender.
Still, whatever aches CSA work gave him, Jeremiah was in better shape than he’d been in years. Even with two determined preteens clinging to him, he made steady progress down the corridor, the trio’s protests echoing all the way.
Halfway to the Grim’s apartment, a deep voice boomed from behind. “Ahh! Jerry! You’re home, good, I’ve been meaning to catch you.”
They all froze. Mr. Roger stood beside his door, towering and smiling as always.
He glanced from Jeremiah to the children, raising a single eyebrow. “Glad to see you’re still keeping up with the Grim kids. Not many last this long. They’ve got an endless supply of energy. Maybe too much, honestly. Let me know if they’re ever too much to handle. I’ve got plenty of ideas for wearing them out.”
The kids’ eyes grew even wider. They exchanged a quick look, then Stella dropped off Jeremiah’s arm and shouted, “Scatter!”
In a blink, the three children bolted in different directions, vanishing in moments and leaving only Jeremiah and Mr. Roger in the hall.
