One morning, the Girl woke up feeling particularly groggy. She had a bad night, with more internal kicking than usual, and the intravenous tube to prevent finding the pee bucket in the dark didn’t help much either. To top it off, they were late for work, because the Garbage Woman insisted on doing the final touch-ups to her uniform.
On their way, she argued about personal hygene. “We could save a lot of time if you didn’t pretty yourself up. I don’t see why you go to so much trouble on your looks when you’re going to look dirty later on.”
“People don’t care about your insides. It’s the outside that counts.”
“Who’s going to care? No one would know.”
“*I* care. *I* would know. When I pretty myself up, I am no longer an anonymous worker. I am Safety and Health Inspector #5.”
“But you’d still be that at work.”
“No, I wouldn’t. That’s not my official title.”
Of all possible roles, why settle for that one? The Girl decided to feed the Garbage Woman’s delusions. “Well, you’ll always be Hell Spectre number five to me.”
The Garbage Woman cast an affectionate look at the Girl. “You shouldn’t care so much what people think about you.”
That should’ve been HER line! These conversations always wound up going nowhere and everywhere and always wound up ending up in the same place. And they had the same argument every single day. “But, your place is a pigsty - ”
“What I do in the privacy of my home is nobody’s business. But that’s no excuse for being a slob.”
As if tempting fate, upon rounding the corner, they came across a Ripper whose face was a concave section of razor-sharp teeth that had been munching on a mutilated body. Blood could be seen dripping down its body. It looked at them with vague interest, until the Garbage Woman intervened, handing over a washcloth.
“Clean your face up. No point getting the sidewalk and your front all dirty.” As the Ripper reluctantly took the material away and licked the excess soaked blood off its face, the Garbage Woman guided the Girl away from the scene of carnage. “I knew that thing would come in handy someday. I just didn’t know how.”
For the rest of the day, the Garbage Woman was distracted. “Where will I ever see another piece of cloth like that ever again?”
She constantly fretted over finding a replacement used washcloth, despite having over forty remaining rags left on her person, and the chances of ever coming across a Ripper again was a rarity. Under those conditions, she wouldn’t rest until she found three times the number she lost.
Normally, the Girl would be able to depend on the Garbage Woman taking up the slack when she felt weak. But now, she had to actually do the job herself. With no outside assistance, the Girl’s efforts struggled, and was immediately noticed by the Foreman, who took every opportunity to lord over her efforts. Despite the constant haranguement, the Girl made every effort to keep her belly concealed. For if her condition was prematurely known, she’d be forced to leave.
Normally, she compensated for her tiredness by taking mini-naps while standing up, but with the Foreman there, that luxury was denied her.
It was with great relief when her shift ended, and she could leave to her side job. The Garbage Woman was still worrying about finding a replacement rag. “There’s simply not enough hours in the day for finding such valuables.” The Girl knew not to wait up for her until she concluded her business.
Despite getting away from the Factory and moving onwards to the Café, the Girl wasn’t looking forward to it. After the first day, the Patron gave her annoying rules dictating how she should display the flyers. Wasn’t spreading them around enough? No, it wasn’t. There were all kinds of arbitrary rules that had to be followed.
- Only specific areas are allowed to have flyers.
- Most places of business serving food are out.
- They can’t be given as gifts to friends.
- People on the street are out, unless they’re standing still.
- They have to be presented face up, vertically on flat surfaces, horizontally inside doors.
- On slanted areas, teetering at a 45 degree angle.
- Doors and mailboxes can only have one each, two maximum, and not side-by-side.
- Dwellings are acceptable, if they let you in first.
- Boarded and dilapidated buildings are unacceptable, unless more than fifty people live there.
There seemed to be all kinds of disreputable unsavoury behavior at the places the flyers were accepted, which didn’t seem like the kind of clientele the Paton would’ve wanted. But he didn’t seem to mind. What he cared the most about was the delivery system.
“You can’t just toss the flyers about any way you like. You MUST use the same arm motion as gutting a fish.”
She didn’t see the point. Being reminded of the same arm movements outside Factory job wasn’t good for her morale. She ignored his advice and tossed the flyers in a comfortable manner just for variety’s sake. Nobody would notice. The Patron’s warning felt unwarranted. It was much more natural and freeing doing it this way.
While making her rounds, she was suddenly confronted by an Official wearing broken spectacles. Like all nasty surprises, he showed up out of nowhere. “I’ve been called to confront a young woman in the area emitting a pungent odor, carrying sheaths of papers and a large handbag .”
“That could be practically anybody!” she proclaimed, doing her best to sound as innocent as possible, and failing.
“We’ve been hearing about her pushing advertisements where they’re not wanted.”
“I’m just spreading word about a great place to eat. You should try it sometime.” she said, tucking a menu in the man’s shirt.
“I don’t care about that.”, he said, removing the unsatisfactory bribe. “I’m more concerned about your arm. People have complained that you’re not swinging it the way you should be.”
“What? No! They’re mistaken. I’ve been moving it like this. See?”, she demonstrated, waving her arm back and forth in a gutting manner.
“I’m going to have to see your papers.”
This was a problem. If he asked for her identification, she’d be shipped back out in Memory Bane, since she didn’t have an official address, and her place of residence was still her parent’s house, and the place she was currently living wasn’t typical living quarters. They weren’t even livable living quarters.
Before, she would’ve taken the risk of getting caught, finding a way back in the City of Lies somehow. But with this ankle bracelet on her, there was no guarantee it’d be removed first, and she’d likely have to cope with one less foot, and she wasn’t prepared for that.
Instead, she opted for showing her permit. “This here says that I’m allowed to move my arm the way I’m required.”
The man looked at the paper, then eyed the Girl warily. “You are far away from your designated work place.”
The Girl looked around her. “What?? You mean this isn’t the Factory area?”
The Spectacled Official didn’t look convinced. “Just don’t do it again. You’ve been warned.” he said, before walking off and disappearing just as quickly as he came. Although the Girl wasn’t punished, the experience left her visibly shaken. It was hard enough trying to pay off her tab without having flunkies keeping tabs on her. And the constant kicking within her stomach lining didn’t help either.
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