Sweet Sick Teen 54

“What about my back pay for work?”

“Pay? You should be grateful we’re not having you compensate us for lost profits from damaged products as a result of your presence. Even if you worked for us for free for years, you wouldn’t come close to covering our costs.”

Well, that was some small comfort there.

“Oh, and before you leave, we’re going to need our pass back.”

The Girl stared with outright indignity. Before she handed the pass over, she made a point of rubbing it all over her armpits first. Let them deal with it however they like. It didn’t matter if they cut it in half so it couldn’t be used again. At least she got some back, no matter how petty her vengeance was.

She handed over everything that was the Factory’s property and was about to leave without further incident, when the compulsive need to creatively express herself suddenly welled up within her. She was about to tell the Foreman off with some colourful choice words not limited to or excluding unflattering descriptions of his anatomy and close relatives, but when she turned around, the Foreman and the Factory entrance were gone.

She looked at all sides, but all traces of the whereabouts of her workplace had completely disappeared in the short distance she’d walked away. All that remained was a flat horizon where a smog-infused landscape was the only trace that a smoke-spewing establishment ever stood there.

Earlier, she figured she’d be able to skirt the barrier even though her pass had been deemed invalid, but the system was more sophisticated than she’d imagined. The once-familiar block that she’d frequented so many times had now become unrecognizable. The space she currently occupied seemed indistinguishable from all the other buildings in the distance.

All of a sudden she realized that she was in the same situation as when she first entered the City, only this time, she was in a worse situation, since she was tired and hungry, and had no idea of where to go. Nothing looked familiar, and she couldn’t even contact anybody she knew at work. Even though she’d spent several months living here, she’d made no effort to get to know anybody, save for the Garbage Woman. She saw her every day, but made no pretense to get to know her better.

She only memorized the route to the Garbage Woman’s place via the Factory, and without being able to go back to familiar settings, she was completely lost. She started looking for the location of the Warehouses, but there were dozens of them, and they all looked the same. Only by going close up could she smell the difference, but narrowing them down was an exercise in futility.

How had she made her way back to the Warehouse from the National Hysterical Society? She had no memory of the incident.

She didn’t even know the exact address where she lived - all the street signs were black. Even if she found the place, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to fit in the tunnels anymore. And using the spare Warehouses without permission was NOT an option.

Going back to the Living Martyr’s place wasn’t feasible either. She overheard that they changed locations all the time. And even if she asked any “Comfort Women”, for help, chances were they wouldn’t, due to misunderstanding why the Martyr wanted to see her. And even if she DID find the Martyr again by some small miracle, what could she possibly offer? ‘You want me to help you out? Go save my life again first.’ Or something along those lines.

There was no way she could possibly get another job. Even if she somehow miraculously got rid of her smell and hid her protruding belly, no workplace would accept her in those ill-fitting clothes, and no one would hire her for her looks. Despite her glowing references, the prospect of getting any money was notoriously low. In order to get ahead, it wasn’t about working hard to get results. It was really about who you knew, and in this City, the Girl hardly knew anyone.

She’d essentially lost all contact with everybody she knew in the space of a day.

She felt extremely tired, and decided to rest against a wall, but didn’t get to linger for very long before being shooed off by business owners who didn’t want someone not buying anything hanging around. She had to learn how to sleep standing up in 15-second intervals.

She finally resorted to her last default action she hoped would never have to stoop to - begging. But even that simple action had unintended consequences. You couldn’t just simply choose a random busy spot and ply on the guilt of bypassers without facing the consequences.

“What are you doing here?! This is occupied! I’m scheduled at this spot!” Grabbing her attention was a one-armed shirtless Homeless Man who looked visibly upset at her presence. Despite his visible ribs, he didn’t seem discomforted by the cold.

“I wasn’t aware there was a lineup.”

“A newcomer, huh? You’ve got a steep learning curve ahead of you.” The Homeless Man whiffed his palm in front of his face. “When was the last time you took a bath?”

“Last night,” she grudgingly snarled.

“Well, you’re not going to attract anybody’s attention smelling like that! And if you are, it’s going to be the wrong kind! Freshen up and come back later!”

That was rich, him complaining about her smell when he wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around either. Anyways, it was the Garbage Woman who knew the exact locations for all the water outlets in the City, and the Girl hadn’t bothered to memorize where those were either.

“I don’t know where to go.”

“There’s a bathroom that’s a quick 45-minute walk from here. All you have to do is go - ”

“Isn’t there anyplace closer?”

“There’s one right around the corner. There’s a 5-day waiting period though.”

“Oh come on! What if I’m in a hurry?”

“You can hold it in or find someplace else to go.”

“Why would they reserve public places like that?”

“It’s for your own good. Something terrible happened in there.”

“What could possibly - ”

“Idontwanttotalkaboutit.” he said, clearly not wanting to talk about it. The Homeless Man had a tendency to mumble his words, and just making out anything he said was a struggle in itself. So just understanding what he said at a rapid pace was nothing short of amazing.

“Isn’t there anyplace closer?”

“Just this, but it’s reserved for handicapped people like me,” he said, proudly brandishing the end of his stump.

“Hang on,” the Girl said, digging into her bag, bringing out the disability form she got from the Factory. The Homeless Man’s eyes bulged out at the document, and he reached out to touch the corner.

“Feels legitimate,” he groaned. “How did you get this?”

“So, does this mean I can use the reserved bathroom now?”

“You can’t use it! There - there’s a 30-day waiting period!”

“Oh, so it’s up to 30 days now? What’s up with these reservations?”

“They only want people who’ll use it on a consistent basis, no once-doers,” he said, not very convincingly. “Look, just go to the other bathroom, okay? It’s very simple. All you have to do is go - ”

His voice faded out in the Girl’s head as he gave a heavily detailed list of instructions for getting there. Then he went over to his begging spot before anybody else could take it from him.

The Girl went a little down the way until the Homeless Man was out of sight before doubling back to the handicapped bathroom. She’d just pop in for a short while. No one would ever know.