Episode 14 - The Real Work
Weekdays at OtherWorlds TV didn’t feel like recovery.
They felt like containment.
The Hosts disappeared at exactly 12:00 AM on Sunday night. They didn’t walk out the door. They didn’t wave goodbye. They just… stopped being present.
Their scent lingered. Their glitter. Their chaos. Their weird philosophical arguments about who invented fog machines.
And then the weekday crew took over.
It was Monday through Friday that kept the station alive.
Charles handled the logistics. Not paperwork, per se—though some got done—but broader tasks. Route clearing. Rerouting. Interdimensional interference management. He walked the halls every morning, tapping his cane in a rhythm only the building seemed to understand.
He didn’t need a clipboard. He was the clipboard.
If a hallway was blocked by fog? Charles would nod, tap twice, and the fog would part. If two doors suddenly led to the same place? Charles would flip his bowler hat around once, and they’d behave again.
He didn’t explain what he did.
He just did it.
Miss LaDonna didn’t keep schedules. She kept order.
Not with rules—there weren’t many of those—but with presence. Wherever she walked, lights steadied. Walls straightened. Elevators opened when she approached, even if she hadn’t pressed a button.
She moved through the station like a favorite song you didn’t remember knowing.
When Olivia asked her once, “How do you know when something’s wrong?” Miss LaDonna just smiled and said, “I feel it in the floorboards.”
She was rarely loud, never rushed. But when she entered a room, everything listened.
And then there was Bernard.
Bernard was chaos. But managed chaos.
He spoke to the Vault. Sometimes sweetly, sometimes sternly. He absorbed rogue broadcast energy, consumed corrupted footage, archived memories that didn’t belong to anyone living. He floated through walls, peeked through monitor glass, and occasionally napped in the server closet—purring.
His presence reminded Olivia that the station wasn’t just a job. It was a living thing.
And now there was Olivia.
At first, she thought she was “just the receptionist.”
But she was starting to see it.
She was the station’s heartbeat. She kept the first impressions calm. The phone answered. The forms processed. The flow smooth.
She saw everything come in and out.
And the others—Charles, LaDonna, Bernard—they didn’t treat her like a new hire.
They treated her like a missing piece that finally fit.
On Thursday, during her lunch break, Olivia stood in the main hallway alone.
A slow breeze moved through the corridor. From nowhere. The lights dimmed, then brightened in sequence—leading toward the breakroom.
She followed.
Inside was a small note on the table.
Weekday Crew Meeting – 3:15pm – Interview Room
No sender. No explanation.
She smiled.
For the first time in her life, Olivia didn’t feel like she was playing dress-up.
She felt like staff.