Bruce chose to go pay his phone bill.
Once he had credit on his phone, he could go online. That way, whenever he came across something he didn't understand, he could look it up instantly on the internet.
Then he understood. He was in the future now, where technology was much more advanced than in his era. Computers were no longer extremely valuable items, and even more portable devices had made their way into countless homes.
He didn't have a computer at the moment, but there was no need to buy one. He could just go to a place where computers were rented, otherwise known as internet cafes, to get his work done.
And he also figured out one thing, Aisha wasn't just inherited the appearance of the other Batmans, she was a Little Batman, just as brilliant as Batman.
But communication efficiency was a problem. Bruce keenly sensed that Aisha might have communication issues.
Her intellectual and physical development were not delayed, which meant the communication problem might be caused by personality or other pathological factors.
But if the case was so, why didn't Aisha's biological father get her treatment? Since other versions of Batman were so powerful, there's no reason not to treat his own daughter.
While pondering this, Bruce was searching for the nearest internet cafe on his mobile map. Although he didn't have the money to buy a hard drive temporarily, he could go to the internet cafe for now.
What he really thought about was searching the internet for information about water pipe renovation projects. But when he arrived at the internet cafe and turned on the computer, the homepage of the search engine pushed a piece of news to him.
Upon clicking it, Bruce discovered it was a report on changes in the appearances of San Francisco residents.
Beforehand, Bruce found out that the city he was in, was San Francisco, but not through the internet. The Golden Gate Bridge was too conspicuous; he couldn't miss it even if he tried.
Turns out, he wasn't the only one who paid attention to the unusual appearances of the city's residents. With such thoughts, Bruce clicked open the report.
He had expected detailed discussions and research materials, but the entire piece was complimenting these handsome men and beautiful women, telling how attractive they looked and how strong they were.
Only at the end it was said, "They are the first beneficiaries of God's blessing of bringing a new evolution to the human race, and they will become a benchmark and leader in the new world, holding a decisive position."
Bruce had a headache reading this.
This time, not because he couldn't understand, but because he understood too well. He also understood that if he could comprehend this report, it meant most people could, which meant there would be no solid evidence in this report, and it was definitely not rigorous enough.
But for that reason, it could easily stir up bigger debates.
As expected, as Bruce continued reading, he found that the comment section under this news was in chaos. According to nationality, race, gender, class, religion, and even region and hobbies, dozens of factions had formed, and the arguments were very heated.
But obviously, no useful information came from these disputes. Perhaps the first few comments were about the event, but the majority of the later comments were all attacking each other.
The harsh language in these comments made Bruce dizzy, but he still remembered why he was here. After taking a moment to recuperate, he began to search the internet for information on San Francisco's water pipe renovation project.
Except for a report from half a year ago about an adjustment of the tap water supply route, he found no information related to the place he was currently working at.
Following up on this brief notice, Bruce found that the reason for the adjustment of the tap water supply route was because a water plant had closed down before. Further inquiries into why this water plant closed led to nothing but speculations from residents affected by the adjustment, basically saying that the boss ran away with his mistress.
At this point, the leads were pretty much cut off, and Bruce didn't know what else to search for, so he could only look up the names of all the water plants in San Francisco and check them one by one.
After searching for a while, Bruce found a strange phenomenon. Approximately half a year ago, multiple water plants in San Francisco had shut down in succession. The reasons given were poor management, but rumors all pointed to problems with the bosses.
Bruce felt that he might have found the key, so he noted down the names of these water plants on a piece of paper, intending to check them out in detail after finishing his brick-moving work in the afternoon.
The brick-moving work for the day went smoothly. Unlike office clerks who could chat while working, physical labor was tiring, and everyone would leave as soon as they finished, leaving little interaction with each other.
After getting paid by the boss, Bruce turned around and was greeted by a stranger.
A Mexican youth with braids came up, patted Bruce's shoulder, and offered him a cigarette.
"Nice physique, bro." The guy draped his arm over Bruce's shoulder and said, "I heard you have a daughter?"
Bruce immediately looked wary. The Mexican youth waved his hand and said, "Don't get me wrong, I have a green card, otherwise how can I work with you? I'm a second-generation immigrant, don't be afraid."
"I just heard you might be short on money, so I wanted to introduce you to a job."
"I don't break the law," Bruce emphasized.
"Illegal stuff won't fall into your hands," the Mexican youth shook his head and said, "There's a project now that needs people to test drugs. 2000 US dollars a day, for a total of 7 days. Are you in?"
Bruce's eyes widened slightly; he was about to reject the offer when the other party said, "Don't think that I am some organ trafficker or will make you test poison. This is a legitimate venture by a large company, recruiting volunteers from the general public."
"However, their conditions are quite strict; height, weight, appearance, eye color, and even hair are considered for each race. I attended an interview previously and didn't make it through; however, you seem to meet their recruitment standard for white people."
The Mexican lad gesticulated as he explained, "like those old Caucasians of European descent, with darker skin, bright eyes, and strong physique."
"Before the trials, an insurance contract is signed according to laws and regulations, so there is legal protection in case of any accident. This isn't their first time recruiting volunteers, and there haven't been any reported issues."
"I found this opportunity after extensive research. I initially wanted to go myself, but I wasn't selected. Even if I'm not responsible for your safety, I need to be for my own."
"Besides, I'm introducing you to a job and charging a referral fee. If you end up dying or landing in the hospital, wouldn't my efforts be for nothing?"
The Mexican lad began endeavoring to persuade him, lauding the project to high heaven while Bruce was thinking about something else.
Would the strict appearance requirements for volunteers have anything to do with the recent changes in the appearances of San Francisco's inhabitants?
"How much are you asking?" Bruce queried.
"Not much, 10% from you should suffice. In consideration of your daughter, I won't ask for a deposit upfront, especially since you don't have any money to start with. But you must settle the accounts on time once we have a deal."
"What's it called?"
"Me? I am…"
"I mean, the name of the corporation. The ones needing the drug trial."
"Osborn. It's the Osborn Group."
Before heading home that night, Bruce began house hunting near the previous discount supermarket. He left his contact information with the owner of a local grocery store, who assured him that landlords would contact him soon.
Upon returning home, he found Aisha already packing boxes. Bruce picked her up and kissed her cheek, but Aisha brushed him off slightly annoyed.
Unfazed, Bruce put down his belongings and took Aisha out for dinner.
They changed to a different fast-food restaurant, eating Indian flatbreads and curry. Meanwhile, Bruce searched online for information about the Osborn enterprise.
The data available online was rather limited, but from various news reports, it was apparent that the Osborn Group was indeed a large corporation. The company's helmsman, Norman Osborn, was a globally renowned billionaire.
Could the alterations in the physical appearances of San Francisco's population have any connection with Norman Osborn?
Simple conspiracy theories don't require solid proof, and American corporations have been known to engage in dark deeds more than once or twice. All conspiracy theories have their basis. Bruce suspected that the closing of water plants, the inexplicable renovations to city water pipes, the transformations of San Francisco natives, and the Osborn Group's volunteer recruitment were all related.
Yet Bruce couldn't quite piece together the Osborn Group's true intentions. Their line of business appeared to have nothing to do with these events, was there a bigger plot lurking behind?
Upon this thought, Bruce pulled out the phone number the Mexican lad gave him earlier and dialed it.
"Hello, I believe you're right. I desperately need money. I've had enough of eating cheap fast food with my daughter every day. She doesn't deserve this life."
Bruce spoke with sincere emotion. On the other end of the line, the Mexican lad enthusiastically replied, "Great, you tell the interviewer just that. At the very least, they'll take pity on you; that's the best way."
Having decided to participate in the drug trials, Bruce asked for a day off from the construction site to attend the interview. Aisha, who overheard his phone call, looked at Bruce worriedly.
"Don't worry, I'm not actually going for the drug trials," Bruce said as he looked at the address the Mexican lad sent him. "This is a perfect opportunity to deduce what they're up to. I have to seize it."
"And if I draw the salary, I can buy a hard drive and copy the surveillance footage from the construction site using your program. The anomalies in the video will be the best evidence to expose the conspiracy."
With a plan in place, Bruce took Aisha home. As soon as they arrived home, they received a call from the grocery shop owner about visiting a house. Considering that it was getting late, they decided to go the next morning.
The following morning, Bruce escorted Aisha to the new house with the landlord. It was a small building slightly away from the city center. The house was quite old, the furniture rudimentary, but with two stories to the structure, it had two separate bedrooms.
Bruce was satisfied, but worried about Aisha, who was used to the grandeur of Wayne Manor. Would she be able to adjust to such rudimentary settings?
But Aisha seemed thrilled, particularly after viewing the small slide in the backyard.
They happily settled the rent, with Bruce demonstrating considerable skill in negotiation, managing to get the rental price to a comfortably low figure, affordable even on his temporary job salary.
In the afternoon, Bruce went to his interview, which was located at the Osborn West Coast Medical Experimental Center in the suburbs of San Francisco City.