Freefall
Prologue
"Hurry up, slags! We gotta get these leaks plugged before lunch!" Jacob Norris yelled. "Harrison, get the fuck off your butt and earn ya pay!"
Well, he's in a charming mood, Timothy Vanderbilt thought with a slight smirk. He paused his welding to sit on a nearby crate, lifting his face mask and wiping the sweat from his brow. That action alone triggered a flood of memories from when he and his family first moved to Rapture four years prior, a stoney-faced avatar of a man named Andrew Ryan appearing on a screen with a voice-over.
His father had worked for the Tennessee Steel Group, a smaller division of the United States Steel Corporation based in New York City. He had started as a simple welder, much like Timothy was now, and eventually worked to a high level position in the company. With such a hard-work ethic and a passion for inventions, his father was surprised when he would be repeatedly turned down promotions to the New York office, as well as having all of his ideas for streamlining the making and welding of steel rejected. That was when Ryan took notice, and invited his father and his family to Rapture. Tim wished he hadn't. He really wished he hadn't.
Tim looked at his watch, waiting for the right time. Norris lumbered by with a thick piece of pipe on his shoulders, nodding. Tim put his index finger and thumb in his mouth, and whistled as loud as possible. Everyone who was working perked their heads up, and practically sprinted to the bar of the Kashmir Restaraunt.
In Rapture, the drinking age did not exist, but it was commonly accepted that no one under eighteen could drink. Thankfully for Tim this wasn't an issue. After pulling some canned fruit from a box, he ordered a bottle of Sinclair's Spirit from the bar and walked over to where Jacob was sitting.
He had picked a wide window with an expansive view of Rapture, his welding goggles perched atop his forehead. For some reason, at least to Timothy, Jacob looked remorseful. Ironic considering the sign nearby that read "Happy New Year 1959," which was currently off.
"What's up, Jake?" Timothy asked as he took a seat across from his mentor. He was the only person who was allowed to use that nickname.
Norris sighed. "You ever help build something, only to not be recognized for it?"
Vanderbilt shook his head. "No, not really."
"I helped build this city, kid. My blood, my sweat, my tears. Not one bit of recognition. It sucks, Timmy."
He finally turned to look at Tim, who was consuming a piece of fruit from the can. "Every year that passes, I hope for a better job, a better house--"
"So keep hoping. The best things come to those who wait, you know?" Tim regretted what he said almost as soon as it left his mouth. It was a lie when you got down to it. Sometimes, the best things come if you're born into it...like he was.
However, Norris didn't seem to see it that way. He took a sip of his beer and said, "I've been telling myself that for who knows how long. After the war, it was hard to keep a steady job. One dead-end job to the next. I worked in a scrapyard, worked in an oil field...then Ryan comes along and here is the opportunity of a lifetime. Living under the sea! Boy, I was a fucking idiot."
Jacob took another swig of his alcohol, lost in thought. Tim had no idea what to say; the man sitting before him might as well have been a second father, for his real father was too wrapped up in his work to pay much attention to his son and daughter. Nevertheless, he loved him dearly for everything he had done. Before he knew it, the fifteen minutes for lunch were up and it was back on the job, with Norris berating Harrison for being a lazy slag with no motivation. After all, it would be a new year, and there would be lots of upper class citizens at the Kashmir later that night, and if one of the pipes broke, and the place flooded, it would be on Jacob's watch.
Since Tim's parents were considered to be part of the upper class, it meant that he would be returning to the Kashmir later. It was interesting to see how drastically different the upper class and the lower class citizens interacted. There was tension, and there were no major hostilities...yet. However, as Timothy cut off a faulty section of pipe, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.