Julian first observed the scene unfolding before him.
People moved past, some shouting, others examining the work. The stacks of containers stretched far, wider than his gaze could reach. Up ahead, cranes loomed over, carefully placing each container.
He walked forward with slow steps. A man bumped into him. Julian quickly opened his mouth to apologize, but the man didn't even bat an eye and walked away.
He watched the man's back for a moment. The smell of rusty iron and oil emanating from him was distinct. The man didn't appear tired or lazy, merely walking towards his work.
"Hm..." His lips curved into a slight smirk.
A loud siren blared in the distance. His gaze quickly followed; a ship had just arrived with its deliveries. Trucks rolled out from the parking lot. All moved in unison. He felt as though he were watching a scripted play, or perhaps they were simply that experienced. He couldn't be sure.
He stopped near the edge of the pier and leaned against a railing, watching the water below. It was dark and thick with something he didn't want to name aloud.
The surface barely moved, even with the wind pushing against it. Behind him, the sound of chatter and laughter grew louder. The place was still, yet moving, in the most perfect way he could imagine.
"Outsider," he muttered softly.
He didn't remember the last time he had felt that kind of sensation.
He finally took out his phone and checked the time. The day was slipping away faster than he liked.
"I get it," he said quietly to himself, "but remember, there's no such thing as perfection."
He pushed off the railing and walked deeper into the docks, toward the warehouses where the noise grew louder and shadows began to thin.
Julian stopped near the edge of the loading zone, watching a crane lower a container with slow, mechanical care. A man in an orange vest stood nearby, checking a clipboard, chewing something that looked like gum but probably wasn't.
Julian stepped closer.
"Busy day," he said casually.
"You aren't from here?" The man glanced slightly at him.
"You can tell?" Did he realize it just from hearing the first sentence I uttered? He mentally completed the thought.
"Pretty much." The man tilted his head, "Because everyone knows."
"Knows what?"
The man turned to Julian, "Everything," he said casually.
Julian nodded lightly, then said evenly, "That saves a lot then. I have a few things I need to know before I make my decision."
"Decision?"
"Yeah, you see," Julian scratched his head, thinking for a moment before continuing, "Our company has just started blooming. They sent me to check things before everything moves forward."
The man's eyes narrowed slightly, "Then you should go talk to the administrators. They can directly walk you through it."
"Yeah, I will," Julian replied quickly, "But I thought I'd start from the ground up." He smiled faintly and added, "You know what they say, right? If you want to know things better, start from the bottom."
The man didn't react.
Julian quickly took out a small notepad and pen. He watched the man for a signal to start asking questions, but the man didn't give anything, yet Julian started anyway.
"How frequent are the deliveries? Like the traffic here."
"Mostly the same. Three to four ships come in daily. The same goes from our side."
"Is there a specific timeline for all of this?"
"The first arrives in the early morning, around 5 or 6 o'clock. That one there was the second," the man tilted his head toward the ship, "The third in the early evening, between 5 and 7. The last comes at night, at ten."
Julian noted that down. "Ever late?"
"Not really. All the routes are fixed." The man gazed toward the sea. "It's only late when Mother Nature wants to stop it."
"Praise the Lady," Julian muttered softly, tapping the note once. "So after it's off the ship, it goes straight to storage?"
"No, the warehouse first. The locations are always dependent on the paperwork."
Julian watched the crane lift a container, "And the paperwork's already cleared before it docks?"
"Yeah."
Julian paused a second before asking again, "Who clears it?"
"People above me."
Julian chuckled softly. "Obviously."
He watched the container move above him, then land with a loud thud.
"Ever checked inside?"
"Not our job."
"Just out of curiosity?"
"Why would I be?"
"Yeah, right," Julian muttered awkwardly. "What about the inspections?"
"Sometimes."
"By whom?"
"Depends. Customs, private inspectors, medical sometimes."
Julian's smile didn't waver. "Medical?"
"Supplies," the man added quickly. "Hospitals, clinics, overseas orders."
"Anything ever gone missing?"
"Never."
"Never?"
"Yeah. If it's approved, it arrives. If it isn't, then it doesn't exist."
"Sounds efficient," Julian remarked.
Julian studied the man's face, calm and still like the ocean ahead of them. He breathed out once and continued, "How long have you been here?"
"In this line of work?" the man asked. Julian nodded, and he replied, "For nine years."
"That long?" Julian whistled softly. "Has the city changed much?"
"Not much."
"Ever thought of leaving? Like going on a long vacation or just retiring?"
"When the time is right." The man glanced at Julian. "Work is work. I have to feed my family."
"You've got that right." Julian finally closed the notebook. His gaze wandered to the workers loading the boxes into trucks. He paused and asked, "Have there been any accidents? Has anything gone wrong—"
"It won't," the man cut in quietly.
"Right," he said quietly, then sighed lightly. "Thanks for your time. I'll ask around a little more, then check in at the administration office."
The man shouted at someone moving a little further ahead, completely ignoring Julian. He glanced one last time and moved towards the loading trucks.
An older guy stood by a truck, watching workers in blue uniforms load the boxes. He held a clipboard in one hand, and an unlit cigarette tapped against it in the other. He looked a little impatient.
Julian approached the guy slowly and said casually, "Looks important."
The man's gaze lifted to him. He frowned slightly, "Everything is."
Julian's eyes flickered to the moving boxes. WHITE BORN LTD.
FOSTER BROTHER CO.
And a bunch of other names and their company tags. The work was going smoothly, but the man looked impatient for some reason.
He tilted his head slightly toward the boxes, "Guess someone's always watching the numbers."
"Always."
Julian let the silence stretch, then said, "Are they all going for straight delivery or...?"
"Warehouse first."
"Which one?"
"Depends on the paperwork."
"Is there a health policy? Imagine if any accidents occur."
The man turned to Julian, "Nothing like that happens here."
"If something goes missing here, who notices first?"
"It won't."
Julian froze for half a second. "…Right."
He stepped away, thinking of checking the warehouse area next.
Julian cut through a narrower path between warehouses. A woman was sitting on a step, drinking from a bottle, boots muddy, posture loose like she'd done this for years.
"Break?" Julian asked.
She glanced at him, "Yeah."
He leaned on the railing beside her. "These ships don't seem to stop."
"Only four of them come," she replied while opening the water bottle, "though sometimes more. Hard to tell when."
"Any delays?"
"Not that I've seen one. From what I know, all the ships have their own fixed route. Hard weather sometimes causes a problem, but that wasn't much either."
Julian nodded slightly, then scratched his head as if he remembered something. "Oh, I forgot to ask the main thing. I'm actually looking for the administrator's warehouse."
She blinked once and replied, "Are you new here?"
"Yeah," Julian gave a soft smile. "Our company has just started raising the high stairs. We need more of our own supplies, so they sent me to check on things before making any crucial decisions."
"Good for you then." She stood up, brushed the dust off her uniform, and pointed towards the edge, "That's at the end. You can make an appointment there."
"Thanks," Julian replied quickly, "by the way, how long have you been working here?"
"Six years, roughly."
"Long years," he sighed to himself, "how much has the work shifted until now?"
"It rarely changes."
"That so..." Julian mumbled, "ever thought of getting a long vacation? Just to catch up with the rest of the world."
"Who doesn't?" She saw the truck approaching. "But work's work. First, someone has to earn enough."
She started to walk forward. Julian quickly followed, "Have you ever seen what's inside? Like checking if everything's okay."
"That's not our job," she replied, glancing back. "Paperwork handles everything. The rest is handled by customs officers and private inspectors. Or even if something actually went wrong, it's all up to the people above me."
"Right." He waved his hand awkwardly.
Julian slipped the notebook back into his pocket.
Nothing he'd heard was alarming. Nothing was wrong.
And yet, for the first time since arriving in Neomar, he felt like the city had already decided what he was allowed to know.