Sweet Sick Teen 41

“Keep that piece of paper with you. It could come in handy in case they short your pay. You never know.”

“Wait, you mean after all that, they might not pay me after all?!”

“It’s been known to happen. Even though the Factory’s supposed to get a copy of the report, sometimes there’s a delay, or they forget to register it properly. Either way, with that in hand, it’ll be helpful to disprove anybody who says you’re not really disabled. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

The Girl took no pride from these uplifting words. There was nothing to gain in being labeled smelly. She half-wished she’d applied for Asthma instead - at least it wouldn’t be wholly her fault. And she’d have the benefit of being pitied.

She figured that the best way to make it through to the next payment was to do her best to stay out of trouble and avoid the Foreman’s wrath. Like the Burned Man, he seemed to prey on her vulnerability, only appearing in the vicinity when she was feeling tired. And she felt tired all the time.

Her plan was to make it through the days without having to think too much about what she was supposed to do. This was normally accomplished by practically shutting her mind off and going through the motions. But her output was hampered by the uncertainty over not knowing if she would get any money. That fact weighed heavily over her, and affected the quality of her work.

At first, the Girl thought the Foreman’s dismissive attitude was solely aimed at her for daring to put one over him, but she gradually noticed that he acted pretty much the same way towards all the workers in the place. It didn’t matter who - everybody under his watch faced the same equal opportunity bias. Though he seemed to delight a certain reservation of loathing towards the mentally deficient, creating a toxic atmosphere that left everyone feeling that they were floundering for an ideal that that could never be reached. And considering his treatment, everybody working in the Factory was considered menial, otherwise, they could find better work elsewhere. (That could also apply to the Foreman, but since he was in charge, he never considered himself part of the equation.)

When payday finally came, the Girl was so certain that she’d be punished for her actions that it came as a wonderful shock when she actually received payment. Her palpable joy was woefully cut short when she saw how much she was actually paid.

After going to so much trouble to avoid attention, she went up to the Foreman and asked, “What’s with these deductions?”

He explained, “Every time employees uses the Factory resources, it costs money. Keeping the conveyor belt running costs money. Making sure the air filters are functioning properly costs money. Every time the faculties are used, it costs money. Opening the doors costs money. Using the announcer costs money. Every time a chair is sat on, it costs money.”

“Wait, how can sitting cost money?”

“They’re leased. Every time they’re used, it reduces the wear and tear a little, lowering its reusability.”

She looked at the paper again. There was a particularly large sum that had been removed from her pay. “What’s this reduction for?”

“That’s for sleeping out front. Our land isn’t available for free, you know.”

She looked up with disdainful righteous indignation. “You know what costs the Company money? Paying their employees.”

“Yeah, if there was a way to get away with not having to shell out any, we would get away with it.”

This blaise admission was worse than if he’d kept it a secret. It meant that the level of corruption was so high and commonplace that there was no need to hide it. For a City of Lies, there were a lot of uncomfortable truths spoken. (This was because there was no way of knowing just when a lie might become truth, and no one wanted to be caught in that backlash when it actually happened.)

The meagre amount she was paid wouldn’t even come close to lowering the interest rate of her tab. It barely even covered the cost of living. At this rate, she’d have to work for years just to break even. It was like they were actively encouraging her to break the law.

According to the warped math, it seemed that despite putting in several hours of work a week, the Girl actually owed the Factory money.  If it weren’t for the handicapped benefit, she wouldn’t have any money at all.

“It’s your first week, so I’ll let it slide. You can negotiate your pay in six months’ time.”

Six months! She couldn’t conceive working under these hostile conditions for so long. By then, hiding her bulging belly would be practically impossible even under bulky clothing. Sensing her discomfort, the Foreman said, “You can always get another job or work full-time for better perks and pay.”

More work? Just working under these unfair conditions was hard enough, and she needed the time outside of work to recuperate for the next onslaught. More hours spent doing mind-numbing labour would wipe out what little dwindling energy she had. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”

“Just throwing out options your way.” There was also the chance those extra jobs would wind up having further deductions added to them, reducing her pay no matter how hard she worked. Funny how all those choices wound up benefiting the Factory, and supported the employees not at all.

There was no use further arguing with him. At the very least, they wouldn’t be able to take advantage of her sleeping out front for the next payment. But there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t find something else to take money away from.

Now a safe distance away, the Girl Kvetchioned in exasperation. “If they hate us so much, why do they even hire handicapped people in the first place?”

It was the Garbage Woman who had the answer. “They receive compensation for taking on disabled workers. It’s supposed to provide an incentive to make use of the disabled. They’re supposed to integrate them into random sections of the working industry, but in reality, they just gather all the handicapped in one location far away from prying eyes who’d be uncomfortable with their presence into a solitary place that’s already written off as a lost cost.”

“Wait, the Factory’s supposed to fail?”

“That way, if it flounders, they can write off their losses and point the blame on their workers, and if it succeeds despite their limitations, it’s a win for them. Not that they’ll ever openly admit it, since they’re loath to taking on less productive people, but really, who’s going to complain? It’s more than the disabled would get anywhere else compared to some other places where there are no reports of disability at all.”

She was curious about how those rumoured places handled those disabilities. Maybe there might be a clue to handling her smell. “How do they accomplish that??”

“They simply get rid of anyone suspected of being different or looking bad for their self-image.”

The Girl didn’t understand at first. It took her a moment to register the meaning behind those words.

“Having imperfect citizens around is a continual burden on the populace. They take up too much time, energy and space. Better to get rid of the problem than have to deal with it. The only way for the disabled to survive is to keep silent about any potential slights, which isn’t too easy, given how much the neighbours love telling on each other. That, or have a disability that is so unnoticed it’s practically invisible. Or not have one in the first place.”

From the Garbage Woman’s words, it sounded like she had a lot of experience in the matter. She must’ve had to endure horrific conditions to come here, where a slightly more forgiving place made use of their disabilities to their advantage.

For the longest time, the Girl wondered what made the Garbage Woman qualified to work in the handicapped sector, and whether she was either half-blind or half-deaf. From her eccentric actions, it could’ve gone either way.

She had half a mind to ask, when it occurred to her that the Garbage Woman’s disability could be something unobtrusive. Now, considering the current surroundings and her knowledge, it suddenly became all too clear. No wonder the Garbage Woman hadn’t been bothered by the Girl’s presence or the Factory conditions - she must’ve lost her sense of smell ages ago.