Jericho sat in his small dining room table with a bowl of noodles in front of him. It had gone cold as his mind shifted to thoughts about his soon to be ability.

Jericho had cooked the meal just twenty minutes ago, and by cooked he threw a block of sodium into roaring, boiling water, then mixed it with a package of what was supposedly chicken flavor, whatever that meant. No longer hot, the taste was not as strong. More sodium would probably make it taste better. Without thinking he slurped up the rest of the noodles and drank the rest of the soup. The corners of his mouth were met by sodium goodness, which he wiped away with content.

His mom had suggested to stop eating that garbage, but that garbage was what he always found himself coming back to eat.

His mom was still working at the studio, probably doing another welding job or maybe she was refining a sword for a client. Her main career was working as a nurse, but she also used her powers to make some extra money.

Jericho put his bowl away, did a lazy job of cleaning it and the rest of the dishes, then went to his room. He booted up his laptop, which he should have done before because he sat there for two minutes, the same amount of time it took him to wash the dishes. Jericho impatiently waited for the start-up screen to finally load.

When the computer finally did, he searched entry level jobs into one tab and then local colleges and universities into another. The laptop froze momentarily as the two tabs were too much for it to handle. The first thing he would do with his paycheck was buy a better laptop.

Articles built to guilt-shame flooded his search feed. He was instantly overwhelmed and closed the local colleges and universities tab to focus better. It also helped increase the computer’s performance. He figured he would look for a job first, then think about school. The harsh failure of being rejected from schools still crept and ate at him. It was best that he figure out what his ability was first, and it was easier getting a part-time job, than to find a school.

Jericho clicked on a few website links: Entry Level Jobs for Any Superhuman; Career and Job Quiz. What Should I Do With My Abilities?; Summer Jobs for New Superhumans

Jericho quickly decided that he was wasting his time after scrolling through the first link as he skimmed looking for keywords. These were jobs for the truly gifted, those that were fortunate enough to have abilities that mattered. He had to look at the possibility that the ability he had was worthless, and that he would still be considered dirt in other people’s eyes.

Jericho rephrased his search to Jobs for people with bad abilities. He sighed as he clicked enter and was brought to the search feed. Jericho usually skipped the advertisements that appear above the search results, but the ads adversely piqued his interest.

The first ad was from a company that boasts that they hire anyone, which was a complete lie. Jericho had applied there, but as soon as he told the interviewer that he did not have abilities he was discarded as trash and tossed aside. He had nailed the interview and was getting cozy with the interviewer. Socializing was one of the many things he had to master to make up for his lack of powers, and even then, he was not very good at it. The problem was when the second interview began. He was not expecting a second interview. He thought he was homebound because he was not asked any questions about his powers in the first interview, but it all came crumbling down instantly after he had shaken the second interviewer’s hand.

She had gone off on a tangent on how her ability had helped her greatly in the job, how she was making a difference in the company she worked at. Jericho would have laughed at her face. He should have. The company did not value her, he thought. She must have known that they only valued her ability and the money it was making. Jericho wished she knew that.

She must have been ready to hire him at that point because she suggested that he answer just one question as a formality. She asked him the most job interview question that anyone could ask. It was a question more annoying than “Tell me about yourself” or “Who are you as a person?” The question was “How has your ability improved your life, and what can it do to help us here.”

Jericho was immediately taken aback at the time, and she must have sniffed from a mile away that something was up. Long story short: She figured out he did not have abilities. She made a whole deal of it, and excused herself momentarily. In the room over, she yelled at the previous interviewer, loud enough for Jericho to hear.

“Why did you bring an ungifted here? Are you trying to waste my precious time?” She had said. She had emphasized the word ungifted and precious. It was to make him feel worse than he already did, and she succeeded.

When she was done fake reprimanding at her coworker, she returned with a poorly put-together poker face, and smugly told Jericho that they were sadly not hiring. Jericho remembered her face well. He remembered how the creases of her mouth were ready to burst into a fit of laughter, and how she finally did when he left the room. “He’s eighteen too? Without any abilities?” were the last things he heard the interviewer say.

She was not particularly careful of hiding her dismay at all, her guffawing laughs echoed into the store and even when he was no longer within distance, he could still hear that cackling, shrieking laugh in his head. He felt eyes watching him, taunting him as he exited the store. The laughter leeched into his skin whenever he remembered the memory. It made his skin shudder, and made him feel so vulnerable.

Laughter from strangers always sounded like cackling hyenas to Jericho.

His friend Harrison was outside pushing carts. And by pushing he was using his telepathic powers to gather the carts together pushing them all with his mind. Harrison had said he was going to become a cop or detective, but honestly, he had so many opportunities and paths to choose from at the time, especially with the ability to move things with his mind.

“Hey, Jericho,” Harrison had said. He nodded at Jericho’s professional-like attire. “Are you applying here?”

“Just had my interview,” Jericho had said.

“Really, how did it go?” Harrison said. “We need another cart pusher. They make me do everything by myself. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

Hiss. A radio on Harrison’s pocket had pinged. “Hey, Harry, is that ungifted kid still here?” The voice was the same lady, and she still could not contain her laughter. He quickly switched off the radio.

Jericho had squeezed his fists hard wanting to hit something.

“Sorry, man. Don’t listen to them. They’re just being dicks with nothing better to do.”

Jericho had remained silent rushing back to his car, which the test he was fortunate enough to take when he was fifteen. Who knows how the driver’s center would treat him if he were a year or two older?

Jericho exhaled, closed his eyes and pushed the uncomfortable memory aside. It still lingered, but he focused again.

The second ad was something about Jobs for any low life. We hire anyone! And the third ad was about Suicide prevention and mental health services. Call now!. Either these ads were specifically created for him from his personal search history and cookies, or that the statistics were true about the less fortunate ability holders who did not find or have meaning in life.

This was obviously not going to work as well. He closed the tabs, shut down his laptop, and gave his mom a call. It went to voicemail, which he quickly hung up and he proceeded to shoot out a text about when she was coming home.

It was still early evening. He had plenty more to do, but he especially wanted to talk to someone about his new ability, even if it still remains to be extracted.

He shot Harrison a text message to hang.

Jericho: You want to hang out?

Harrison: Obviously, dumbass

Harrison: But I have school work

Jericho: When do you not?

Harrison: Fuck it. Just come over. I could use the company. This shit succckksss

Jericho: I’ll be there in a bit