Once she locked the door, she surveyed her surroundings. The interior was far roomier than she expected it to be. She washed the grime off her hands at the sink, then sauntered towards the toilet seat and sat down for the first time in hours. Having relieved herself, she found it notoriously difficult to stand back up. The backrest was constantly poking into her spine, and the nearby walls were too far away to lean against, but it was the most comfortable spot she’d been in in a long time. She was just going to take a quick rest. Just a little five-minute break until -
When she opened her eyes, it was because of the intense pounding on the bathroom door. Opening the stall, she was surprised to see that it was dark out. How long had she been asleep? The Homeless Man stood there, his face looking ganglier than usual. “‘bout time! I’ve been waiting five days for - you? I thought I told you - UGH! What did you do in there?”
“It’s always smelled like that,” she replied, deflecting blame immediately.
“Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve contaminated my favorite bathroom!”
“No biggie. There’s another bathroom a quick 45-minute walk away. Just hold it in until then.” As soon as the Homeless Man held his breath and braved his way inside, she ran off as fast as her swollen feet could carry her.
She was well rested now, but still hungry. She’d need that energy for later, for the simple act of restoring her vigour in the bathroom would wind up having unfortunate implications. Having infected an important bathroom outlet that was a major trafficked port for the homeless immediately gave her a bad reputation.
It turned out there was a whole network of a begger’s racket, and infringing on a property without permission was frowned on. Any act of charity towards her would be frowned on. No one would willingly go out of their way to help her now.
She could’ve simply sidestepped all this hassle if she’d just went through the proper channels, such as going to a shelter, but all the additional paperwork gave her a headache, so she opted out. And even there, she was stymied because of her smell.
The other homeless were even more hostile about her presence than the business owners, if such a thing was possible. Further compounding their frustration was that not all of them resorted to begging - some of them had jobs. It was ludicrous to think that a homeless person still had to work. Still, if they worked, that meant...
“Do any of you know the whereabouts of the Factory?”
“Which Factory?”
“You know! THE Factory. It’s - it has a grimy floor - lots of people work there! There’s these cylindric things that drop down from above! It smells!”
Given the vagueness of her descriptions, they had no idea which one she meant. It could’ve been ANY one of the hundreds around the City. Unless you were actively seeking work there, these Factories didn’t want to be found.
Several days later, she was notoriously itchy all over from being unable to clean herself. She never thought she’d miss the Garbage Woman’s daily cleaning ritual. The Girl was now reduced to picking scraps out of the garbage. She never expected that the Garbage Woman’s expertise would come in handy as it did right now. She was beginning to regret not having paid better attention to the Garbage Woman’s lessons. How did it go?
“Now, the trick is to pay attention to the consistency of the bags. You want ones that are firmer, and avoid the squishy ones. You’re more likely to find solid foods in these,” the Garbage Woman dutifully providing examples of what she was talking about.
“People are surprisingly wasteful in what they throw away. See here, there’s still traces of Egg yolk in these shells. Every little bit counts.” By way of example she lapped at the corner of the discarded shell without a trace of shame or discomfort.
“Oftentimes, they’re in such a hurry they don’t even bother to get all the bits of foods left in the containers. You can get these by ripping the edges off to get these crumbs. That’s where the saying ‘cutting corners’ comes from.”
The Girl wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not, but it sounded believable enough.
“Sadly, restaurants are so upset about strangers eating their remains for free that they’ve started poisoning their wares before dumping it. They’re just jealous that others are benefiting from expired products. You have to be careful and not wind up swallowing anything tainted. Fortunately, I can tell the difference.”
She experimentally swallowed a leftover sample. Then, after waiting several seconds, declared, “Yup, that wasn’t poisoned!”
Despite appearing reckless, the Garbage Woman displayed an uncanny knack at pinpointing which foods were affected or not. One innocuous container that looked no different from the rest raised her guard almost immediately.
“Wait. Not this one. From the weight distribution, I’d wager this has Polonium 210 deliberately sprinkled inside. That’s why it’s important to have protection during these runs - you never know what you’ll run into.”
The Garbage Woman removed the disposable gloves she wore when exploring these waste containers - the only items she ever willingly threw away. She shook her head. “Breaking out the fancy stuff - they really don’t want us around here.”
As much as she’d learned, the Girl never did figure out how to detect poison in these products, and usually had the items tested by others first. During these excavations, she hoped she’d run into the Garbage Woman again, but more often than not, she’d run into other Dumpster Divers unwelcome of more competition in their midst.
To play it safe, she waited until the others took what they wanted, then waited to see if they suffered any ill effects before picking away at the remains. Essentially, she was eating the scraps of the scraps.
And the bugs! The uneaten leftovers often had bugs littering all over. There were bugs in the food from the Forest of _____ too, but at least they were expected there. Seeing all those bugs moving around was extremely unnerving, so she started eating with her eyes shut.
The main problem wasn’t finding enough food - but bathroom duty after. She felt like peeing constantly, and the lack of safe spaces or comfortable spots left her increasingly paranoid. But finding a proper place to crap was risky, and left an ever-looming threat hanging over her head. Everything kept shifting and moving around at a frenetic pace where nothing stood still for long. If she could binge and purge in a hurry, she would.
It would be so much easier if there was a consistent dependable place she could crap without causing trouble or drawing attention. So far, the only place to go was in the waste bins, and that was a big no-no, since she was basically crapping where people ate.
To make matters harder, some establishments had no qualms about doing that themselves. These places didn’t bother to poison the food, since they couldn’t afford the cost, but found an easier way to do so, by putting their public toilets directly above the rejected foodstuffs. If no one was going to pay for it, then no one ever would.
Between the lack of food, sleep, bathroom breaks and no steady routine, the Girl felt like she was teetering on the edge of madness. For the longest time, she couldn’t wait not having to work anymore. Now, under these conditions, she found herself actually missing her job.
It was astounding how much her selective memory suddenly decided what it missed. Things that once seemed intolerable were now seen in a better light. She missed the Factory smells that made her feel like throwing up. She missed her overbearing parents. She missed the snotty Patron. She even missed going to school... until she recalled her memories of her time there, and realized that, no, she didn’t really miss school that much after all.
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