Upon returning back to the stifling confines of the City, she went to her first intended workspot - a franchise operation that was the designated model for entry-level work. These were considered the gateway experience to becoming employed, and were long chains of connected buildings belching out smoke through its multi-layered chimneys. She entered the main entrance application for accepting new employees.
This sector had the highest rate of accepting people who would be rejected everywhere else, and that included the handicapped. She first thought this would be easy, hoping to get a position that would apply to her, because of her pungent condition. But she’d been unable to even get a foot in until she had the necessary paperwork approved. Before then, they were completely unwilling to even look in her general direction.
Now, she had proof that she had work experience through the Florist’s pollen dust that still lingered on her person. That was enough to help her jump the line of potential workers who looked upon her with jealous looks. A feeling she knew all too well, when she applied earlier, wondering what gave these jerks the right to go ahead of her, and took immense satisfaction from their hostile stares.
As before, her interview took place near the working area with a Foreman looking over her qualifications inside a heavily-lined glass box. From time to time, he asked pointed questions:
“Do you have any special talents? Anything that you can do that nobody else can do?”
“No.”
“Where was your place of previous employment?”
“I was helping out in the Forest.”
“Oh, a volunteer then.” That was certainly a step up. Before, she’d be thanked for her time before being given a hasty dismissal. “It appears you live quite a far distance away.”
In her haste to get hired, she’d apparently put down her old address, instead of her free-roaming location which kept changing on a daily basis. “I commute.”
“And you’re certain you’ll be able to make it here and back on time?”
“I’m an early riser.”
For her contact info, she listed the Gloved Man’s number. She’d tried to reach him multiple times with no success. If the Foreman could get ahold of this elusive savior and make him aware of her current status, so much the better. Chances were he wouldn’t bother, since the very next thing he said was;
“We’re willing to take in any workers, no matter how inept they are.” He continued: “Our hours are reasonable, and temporary. You’ll be working for about a month or so, until your contract is up for renewal. If desirable, you can choose to either extend your stay, or leave for better opportunities.”
“What about a uniform?”
“You should still have one from your last job.”
“It... was stolen from me while I was resting at a Hotel”, she admitted with some embarrassment.
“You’ll be given a replacement shortly. As long as you show up and do what’s expected of you, that’s all that matters.”
“Alright, sign me up,” she said, eagerly signing the document before her.
“Fine. Now, which do you want to get rid of? Your sight, or your hearing?”
“My what??”
“We only accept the handicapped here. The Illiterate and Blind take care of the forbidden writings, while the Deaf traverse the realm of howling madness. It’s your choice to determine which area you’re most qualified to work in.”
The Girl was aghast. “This isn’t what I signed up for! My disability is different!”
“Come, come now. You should’ve known that no job opportunity comes without risk.” A thin sharp instrument popped out of a secret panel besides the Foreman’s glass station. “Now, either impale yourself on one of these, or we’ll do it for you.”
“Absolutely not! I refuse!”
“You’ve signed a contract, and getting out of it is practically impossible at this point.”
But before the Girl could say another word of protest, a loud noise was heard in the background of the working environment.
The Foreman turned around, and said with some annoyance, “Oh for - they’ve claimed another one!”
A writhing blob that was once human was flailing about on the factory floor. The Foreman pushed a button, and a large hammer above the ceiling rose up then fell towards the fleshy mass and smushed the former worker to messy pieces.
“I keep telling them and telling them - just because they can’t hear doesn’t mean they can’t sense the vibrations through their skin! I’m gonna have to write this down as another minor accident.” He looked up and saw the Girl was still there, with her organs still intact. “Whether you get injured while on the job is none of our concern. What matters is that you’re handicapped before you walk on the working floor. That way, we’re not responsible for any damages.”
Seeing that she was still reluctant to harm herself, the Foreman called for Guards to come restrain her.
“I don’t have time to deal with this. Obviously, we’ll have to rupture your eardrums, since you’re incapable of listening to - what’s that smell?”
The Guards holding the Girl down had noticed it too, and were having trouble doing the job of holding her down while holding their noses.
“It’s what I was trying to tell you. That’s my handicap.”
The Foreman stepped out of his glass booth to stab one of the Girl’s senses out, and his eyes bugged out at the overwhelming stench. The thick glass was resistant against any physical force, but even it couldn’t fully block out the pungent aroma of the Girl’s smell.
“You must be joking.”
“Break my skin, and my smell will only become more concentrated. Now, let me up before you hurt somebody!” She stood back up, dusting herself off after the Guards surrounding her reluctantly let her go. “Now, where do I start?”
“You - We simply can’t have you working around here with such filthy hygiene! You’d contaminate the workplace!”
“I thought you said the contract was binding?”
“Not if your mere presence causes disruption!”
“This is discrimination, pure and simple. I’ll raise a complaint with the Managers. Maybe they’ll be more sympathetic to my cause. And maybe I’ll be working on that side of the booth, hmm?”
“Alright, alright. There may be a suitable position available for you.”
She crossed her arms in smug satisfaction. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted.”
“This is NOT what I wanted!”
She was regulated to a conveyer belt where she was tasked with making incisions of small dead fish-like animals that smelled just as bad as her, and scoop out the innards at a rapid-fire pace. The insides were to be dumped in a container that kept getting full, and the animal remains were to be left alone, and oftentimes, the two were hard to tell apart. Not more than once, she got them mixed up, which cause no small amount of consternation from the onlooking Foremen.
In addition to which, the goggle mask she wore to protect against the splashback kept fogging up due to the extreme heat, and did little to block the rancid smell of not just the dead bodies, but her body as well. Not to mention the suffocating conditions made her sweat something terrible, and resisting the impulse to scratch her nose at every opportunity made concentration increasingly impossible.
And she had to keep up this frenetic pace for several hours without a break, when she constantly felt weak in the knees, and the urge to pee all the time. The closest source of comfort was a chair that was too high for her, and she resorted to just leaning against the legs, which cut into the inner seam of her replacement work clothes something terrible.
If you asked her what her life plans were, gutting alien guts in an assembly line wouldn’t even come close to breaking her top hundred choices.
“Don’t knock it”, a stocky old woman next to the Girl said. “It’s better than the alternative.”
A hammer came down, squishing another corrupted worker perilously close to where the Girl was working.
“I’m afraid to ask.”
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