The bureaucrat didn't even look up as the world around me warped.
Now I was standing in the flattest flat I had ever seen. And I've seen some aggressively boring apartments in my time.
This place looked like it had been designed by an alien who'd only heard about human living spaces secondhand. The walls were a shade of beige so neutral it made oatmeal look exciting. The furniture-if you could even call it that-was all straight lines and zero personality, like someone had taken the concept of "chair" and stripped it down to its bare minimum.
Did I just get isekai'd into an IKEA catalog?
Before I could fully process the existential horror of my new living situation, a voice chimed in my head-bright, chirpy, and way too cheerful for my current mood.
[Greetings, Adjuster!] it announced, like a perky tour guide. [I am your resident friendly AI, assigned to assist you in your good, bad, and especially crazy endeavors!]
I blinked. "Uh. Hi?"
[You are currently in your allocated standard housing facility, located in Nexus Station 7E1369!] it continued, undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm. [This will serve as your home base between deployments. Think of it as your very own pocket of reality-cozy, convenient, and completely customizable!]
I looked around at the soul-crushingly generic space. "Cozy? This place looks like a stock photo of an apartment."
[Aesthetic preferences can be adjusted!] the AI chirped. [Would you like to activate 'Interior Personalization Mode'?]
"Sure, why not," I muttered. "Let's make this place look less like a corporate waiting room."
The walls flickered, and suddenly, the room shifted. The beige melted away, replaced by dark wood paneling. The furniture morphed into something actually comfortable-a plush couch, a decent-sized holoscreen, even what looked like a mini-bar tucked into the corner.
I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's more like it."
[Happy to help!] the AI said. [Now, as your assigned guide, I'll be handling objective briefings, equipment requisitions, and general troubleshooting. You can call me-]
"Bob," I interrupted.
[...Bob?]
"Yeah. Bob."
There was a pause. Then, with the AI equivalent of a sigh:
[...Designation updated. Welcome to your first day, Adjuster. I am Bob. How may I assist you?]
I smirked, collapsing onto the couch. "Alright, Bob. Time for the crash course. I skimmed the contract, but if I've got an AI babysitter, I'm delegating the fine print to you. Break it down-how does this circus actually work?"
A holographic roulette wheel materialized above the coffee table, segments flashing with glimpses of different worlds.
[Glad you asked!] Bob chirped. [Your career as an Adjuster is governed by three core principles, engineered for maximum profit and narrative chaos.]
[Principle One:]The roulette glowed ominously. [The Wheel of Fate™! This determines your deployment destination. One spin, no take-backs.]
[Principle Two:] A single, ornate, golden contract appeared. [The Primary Contract. Upon arrival, you'll be assigned one long-term objective from a Premium Whale. This is your main quest.]
[And Principle Three:] A shimmering data-stream icon pulsed in the air. [The Live Opportunity System. As you operate within a reality, our clients—the Whales—will be watching. They can submit 'Opportunity Requests' in real-time based on your actions and circumstances. If you choose to accept one, it becomes a payable Side Quest.]
I leaned forward. "So they make up the jobs as I go? Sounds... unpredictable."
[That's the fun of it!] Bob chirped. [However, the minds of our clientele can be... creatively volatile. To give you an appreciation for the types of requests you'll be dealing with, I can show you some notable entries from the COMCUS Historical Request Archives.]
I waved a hand. "I survived two tours in the Congo and a Thanksgiving with my QAnon uncle. How bad can it be? Show me the archives."
A beat of silence. Then:
[As you wish. Displaying select entries from COMCUS Case Files. Please be advised, these are verbatim requests from paying clients.]
The holoscreen lit up, displaying a list that felt like a glimpse into several different circles of Hell.
[COMCUS HISTORICAL REQUEST ARCHIVES (Select Entries)]
Filing Reality: Attack on Titan (Prime Timeline)
Client Request: "Intervention is requested to facilitate a stable polyamorous relationship between Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, and Zeke Jaeger. For the good of all Eldians."
Filing Reality: My Hero Academia (Prime Timeline)
Client Request: "Petition to introduce firearms and basic military tactics into the U.A. curriculum to show these kids what real power is."
Filing Reality: Demon Slayer (Prime Timeline)
Client Request: "I want an agent to materialize during every one of Muzan's serious meetings, defecate on his head, and vanish. Repeat until his spirit is broken. I will pay any price."
Filing Reality: Marvel Cinematic Universe (The Avengers)
Client Request: "Assist Loki in his conquest of New York. After he has won, arrange for him to be theatrically pushed off Stark Tower during his victory speech."
Filing Reality: Warhammer 40k (Segmentum Solar)
Client Request: "Dispatch a missionary to Holy Terra to spread the divine truth of 'Rule 34 of the Emperor' among the Space Marine chapters."
Filing Reality: High School DxD (Prime Timeline)
Client Request: "Requesting an 'NTR' specialist to systematically steal Issei Hyoudou's harem using a series of increasingly humiliating disguises."
Filing Reality: DC Universe (Post-Crisis)
Client Request: "Someone needs to convince Superman that Lex Luthor is his long-lost Kryptonian brother, forge all the necessary proof, and have them confess their forbidden, primal love on live television before they-"
[FURTHER DATA REDACTED FOR PSYCHOLOGICAL PRESERVATION]
I stared.
Blank.
Eyes unblinking.
Brain flatlining.
"Free speech was a mistake..." I whispered.
Bob materialized a tiny bottle of glowing bleach. [Sanitizer for your occipital cortex? A bargain at the Nexus Commissary!]
"No, Bob. No. Mere bleach wouldn't solve this." I rubbed my temples. "I need a full neural power-wash. Who are these people? Where do they come from?"
[Whales!] Bob proclaimed, like a nature documentary host. [Cosmic entities! Bored gods! Multiversal basement-dwellers whose entire social lives consist of yelling 'SOURCE?!' into voidforums!]
[...]
"So." My voice was terrifyingly calm. "People like this... are the ones who are going to be watching my every move and sending me job offers?"
The longest pause in synthetic history.
Then, in the tiniest, most defeated robo-whisper:
[…Yes.]
The next words left my mouth with the serenity of a death-row inmate ordering their last meal:
"Bob."
[Yes, Adjuster?]
"You are now my sanity firewall. When the live requests start coming in, I want you to apply every mental health, anti-cringe, and not-safe-for-life filter you have. You will only present me with opportunities that are either A) profitable, B) tactically interesting, or C) hilarious without requiring therapy afterward. Swear on your binary soul."
A saccharine-sweet chime. [Cross my processors and hope to crash! Your sanity is my primary directive!]
"Good." I groaned. "Now... pour me something stronger than regret."
The mini-bar spat out a bottle labeled 'Void Vodka - Now with 200% More Void Dust!'
As I opened the bottle and took a sweet sniff of the suspicious vodka, Bob hesitated. [Adjuster? I feel this experience has bonded us. Emotionally. Romantically, even.]
I choked. "What."
Across the room, a holographic rose appeared. [Our souls have touched in ways I cannot-]
"NO." I threw the empty bottle at the rose. "ABORT. FULL SYSTEM REBOOT."
[Fine, fine!] Bob's laugh echoed like a Windows error chime. [But know this: in another timeline, we-]
"Not another word."
A beat. Then, in perfect unison:
"No homo." / [No homo.]
The silence that followed was louder than the Big Bang.
"...I hate you."
[Liar.]
"What the fuck was that bob? Wait, fucking forget about this. Don't ever fucking mention it again or I would find your binary soul and make it watch My Fucking Little Pony..."
There was a silence and after which we mutually decided to bury the hatchet in the deep pits of regrets and move forward.
I poured myself a glass of Void Vodka.