by Rae Nantes
This couldn't be happening. I was overpowered! There was no way a woman could defeat someone like me! "Open Portal–"
"Cancel!"
The mist of the portal vanished as soon as it came.
“Oh girls,” Marianna sang. “Don’t you so wish to exact your revenge against this trash?” The girls were silent, but I felt their piercing glares. “Go on then,” Marianna ordered. “Beat him as he deserves!”
They stepped over. My body stretched and shrank, my bones crushed and hardened and reformed into slick iron, melting the entirety of me into a puddle of slag to reform again into a hollow cylinder - with a rattling tin lid.
My sense of sight and sound faded into darkness and silence. I felt thumping, pounding, beating into my sides - my cold metal exterior - then that too faded away to numbness.
I had become cold and empty and defeated.
I had become a trash can containing nothing but my soul.
I had become trash.
5: Trash
Darkness.
Cold.
Defeat.
I wanted to scream in a rage, but I had no mouth.
I wanted to take a deep breath to stave off the panic, but no lungs.
I wanted to flail around the darkness, but no arms or legs.
I almost wanted to cry, but I ain’t no bitch. But, theoretically, if I could cry, and if I was a bitch, I'd imagine that I would want to. But I didn't.
I'm was too alpha to cry.
After I cooled my racing mind, I started to take stock of my situation. The Royal Slut had turned me into a garbage can, but the only thing I could see was darkness - or maybe it was the lack of eyes that did that.
Really the entire experience was new to me. The closest thing I could remember was that time I was swallowed by the Black Demon of Intercorsica, and all I needed to do was just teleport out.
Of course!
"Return: Home."
Nothing happened. Even though I had no mouth to utter the spell, the intention alone should’ve been enough to finish the cast.
Then, the familiar cold voice faded in. "Action not yet learned."
This was bad. Very bad. If I had a heart, it would've stopped beating, but I didn't have a heart. I was a garbage can. Garbage cans don't have hearts.
"Scan: Self."
"Unnamed Recycler, Level 1."
Ah, that was what she did. The wayward turd-nugget had turned me into no ordinary trash can, but into a recycler class. It might've had something to do with her specific magic skill and the fact that Recyclers were entities in their own rights and not just inanimate objects. Well, they were inanimate objects, but with just a little bit more utility.
The hope died as quickly as it came. My levels and class and skills had all been reset with the polymancy spell. I could’ve leveled up somehow and gain power, but no matter how much I leveled up, I would’ve still just been... a trash can.
And I had no idea how recyclers even worked. Never cared to know, really, as that type of blue-collar work was far beneath me.
+1 Dirty Napkin
What? Did someone just... throw garbage inside me? I felt violated! And not in a good way. I saw it in my mind’s eye - a bundled white scrap of a napkin, smeared with red and yellow sauces and bits of moist crumbs. I didn't even know what I should've been doing with this thing. Didn't these recyclers automatically... recycle the junk that got tossed in?
"Review: Abilities."
"Abilities: Craft, Smelt, Recycle."
Ah. It was called Recycle. Of course. But something stood out to me - Smelt. Using my great alpha wisdom, I figured that I had the ability to smelt metal rubbish into ores or ingots or whatever. It never occurred to me that people would throw away things like swords or iron bars or whatnot, but cans and trinkets might happen.
Regardless, if I were to get anywhere closer toward my revenge, I would need to learn as much as I could about my new predicament.
"Scan."
"Dirty Napkin. Contains trace amounts of ketchup and mustard."
"Recycle."
A glow of warmth flashed into my soul for a split second, then vanished into the infinite black.
+4 Earth Element
+15 XP
And that was how it worked. Instead of recycling trash into raw raw materials, recyclers could somehow manafy it into one of the alchemical elements. It was simple, effective, and saved a lot of headaches.
Now I was making progress.
6: Recycler
After some unknown amount of time had passed, I had stockpiled an impressive load of stuff to recycle.
-53 Dirty Napkins
-11 Used Paper Cups
-3 Aluminum Cans
-21 Used Paper Plates
+340 Earth Element
+42 Fire Element
+11 Air Element
+1432 XP
+1 Level
+1 Class Point
Oh, that was underwhelming. Normally when a person leveled up, they would get a confetti blast of light and mana and energy like a metaphorical mariachi band to celebrate the occasion. I supposed with recycling bins, such a thing was unnecessary.
I wasn't sure how recyclers were expected to use class points on their own - maybe by magic-based animation or artificial intelligence - but it really didn't matter. I was a human soul trapped in a tin can that was hell-bent on revenge.
"Review: Skill Tree."
In the darkness, an almost holographic image fell into view, displaying the various routes of leveling that a young, budding trash can such as myself could take.
>Sensory
>Utility
>Efficiency
Each tree was mostly self-explanatory, but any skill past the next level was hidden.
>Sensory > Sight
Enables the recycler to analyze its surroundings.
>Utility > Vend: Paper
Recycler may offer basic paper products to sell.
>Efficiency > Recycle+
Raw Materials acquired by recycle increased to 50%.
You know, it really brought into question why recyclers even had leveling paths in the first place, but I soon realized that it had to have been economic in nature. If a recycler was able to analyze what type of products are being dropped in, it could make educated judgements on what products it should sell. After all, why offer daggers and mana potions if the recycler was stationed outside of a fancy restaurant?
"Unlock: Sight."
"Sight unlocked."
As if turning on a light switch, colors and shapes and figures and pounding, blinding light overwhelmed me.
I could see again.
Cobblestone streets filled with common passerby, men and women and children of various status, soldiers and policemen, aristocrats and merchants, all moving to and fro between carriages and wagons that turned beyond the wood and brick homes and storefronts of the city.
Blue skies, sun rays breaking through distant clouds.
I was still in Lambston.
My sight was essentially the same as it was in my human body. In order to see all around me, I had to metaphorically turn my head and look up or down. To my relief, I could still close my eyes if needed, even though blinking was unnecessary. Because, you know, I didn’t have eyelids. I was a trash can. Trash cans don’t have eyelids.
This entire time I was hoping that all of this was just a really long and stupid dream, but now reality was here again. I looked down and could see the edge of my metal exterior gaze back. A mistake, it was, for all this brought was a vague sense of sadness and irritation for my predicament.
+1 Dirty Napkin
+1 Dirty Plastic Fork
+1 Dirty Paper Plate
And it's gone. For some reason, obtaining things invoked some strange response that made me thoroughly enjoy having trash tossed into me. It might've been a side effect of, you know, becoming a trash can - maybe a psychological reward - but this tiny bit of happiness could be the one thing to support me mentally on this quest
for revenge.
I looked over at the culprit to see an old man with withering white hair and a cane. He had crumbs in his mustache. Behind him, tables and chairs underneath umbrellas - all packed with people stuffing their mouths with food. Beyond them, a storefront. The painting above the door read, TOM'S FAT WIENERS.
I knew it. This was a restaurant. It explained the disproportionate amount of disposable cutlery and dining ware. With that in mind, I already knew what stuff I could sell to boost my XP - once I unlocked vending.
***
By nightfall, the shops had closed, the people went home, and the streets were empty. The city had gone to sleep. I felt as though I had enough for my next level, so I recycled what I had.
+241 Earth Element
+28 Fire Element
+11 Air Element
+5 Water Element
+1009 XP
+1 Level
+1 Class Point
"Review: Skill Tree."
The chart fell into view. Right off the bat, I noticed that the next Sensory unlock was for hearing, which seemed good, but Vend was the better choice for the time being.
"Unlock: Vend: Paper."
"Vend: Paper Unlocked.”
Something inside me changed. I somehow knew that my insides were changing shape, reforming half of my gaping trash-can maw into a slot to place products in, covered by a glass cover. Now half of my opening led to the abyss of me, and the other half I could use as consumer goods real estate. The system included vending storage, a coin slot and bank, and a drop-down area to toss the vended items.
“New recipes unlocked.”
Recipes? I hastily swiped over through my menu screens to see what I obtained, and I was met with a long list of… the expected. Paper cups, plates, utensils, origami animals, toothpicks, cubes, door stoppers, and about a thousand other things listed in vaguely alphabetical order. I knew right away that these were simply command shortcuts since the instincts within me clicked on when I unlocked the skill. I somehow knew how to make all of this just by visualizing the product and shitting it out. At least having a written guide as a framework could be useful.
Now I just needed to craft some stuff and started selling goods to retake my place as an economically productive member of this society. If I was to be a trash can, I wasn’t gonna be a freeloading one.
"Craft: Paper Napkin."
-10 Earth Element
Hummmm-Click. Through my mind’s eye, I could see that a lone paper napkin formed in my crafting section and was sent to the vending display. This was good, but I received no experience points for it. It was probably just given once a product sold, which would make sense in order to not accidentally train recyclers to just spam random products.
"Craft: Paper Napkins: All."
-580 Earth Element
Hummmm.
When I considered it, the restaurant gave out cups, plates, and utensils with their food, but napkins would most certainly be needed more - considering how dirty and messy those peasants were.
Ha. I sometimes impressed myself with how clever I was. Now that I was essentially a merchant with no overhead, it would only be a matter of time before I could level my way through the sensory tree to hopefully unlock a way to move around.
Click.
7: Progression
The next morning, the shopkeeper for Tom's Fat Weiners - Tom, probably - gazed into my soul and I gazed back, offering to him - in a very manly fashion - my bundle of paper napkins.
He offered a faint smile beneath his bushy mustache, pulled out a handful of coins to finger around, and nodded when he found his chosen coin - which was honestly a little weird. When he pushed that delicious silver coin into me, I rumbled in ecstasy.
Uhnn-yeah.
-58 Paper Napkins
+1740 XP
+1 Level
+1 Class Point
My god. That was amazing. I wouldn't say something so pedestrian as to compare it to sex, but being penetrated by a thick, hard piece of currency was something that sent waves of pleasure through me. I wanted more.
I needed more.
As long as I could continue making products that would attract more trash to be thrown into me, I could continue to get stronger and relive that euphoria.
And so the day went on. Trash was thrown in, napkins were put out, and as I ruminated over my plans, I randomly received bursts of mini-orgasms through the day. Feeling the gritty, rigid edges of throbbing hot coins slide in and out of me, manhandled by indecisive, mysterious strangers who thrust the gold and silver and copper coins into me, demanding that I take it all - FUCK YES. Every time it happened I imagined that my blood would flare alive with fiery lust.
But I didn’t have blood.
Because I was a trash can.
By sunset, I unlocked the next sensory skill, Hearing, and as soon as I did, I was overwhelmed with noise. Chatter at the restaurant tables, laughter from a group of children, passing conversations from nobles, clattering of wagon wheels on the stone streets, crows cawing, footsteps, passing winds, tapping furniture, a woman beating a carpet, a really bad pun involving alligators and detectives, a cough walking by, and another conversation that approached me.
It was a couple of city employees. They looked more like construction workers, but they wore armbands that held the nation's flag - a gold lion's face on a white background. They stared into my vending slots - which was pathetically bare - felt around my slick metal exterior, tapped at me, lifted me gently from my bottom, groped and fingered me in my most curious places, and when they were satisfied, stepped back and said, "What the fuck is this?"
"What?" said the older guy.
"What is this?"
"A recycler."
"But it has no marking, no tag, no identification, no nothing. I have no idea who this belongs to. We can't work on it without any way to access it."
"It might be one of those new models."
"New models?"
"From the Teckers. They're updating new things all the time. It's good business, you should look into it."
"Later. Right now, we should find out who owns this stuff. This is probably a violation of city ordinance."
"Uh, let's just tell our supervisor. She'll know what to do."
This was bad. There was no telling what could happen if I were found out, and I wasn't ready to start my plan just yet. Premature discovery was just as bad as premature ejaculation - which I had never suffered, of course.
I had no idea how fast the city could react to my presence, but I knew I needed to hurry as fast as I could. I knew how to level up, I knew how my new body worked, and I already knew everything about the world - well, the important parts. I needed to get mobile as soon as possible.
And to do that, I needed to finish the Sensory skill tree. The next skill on the list was Touch, which enabled me to feel on my metallic skin. I would be able to feel the stone beneath me, the humid air across my lips, the roughness of a used napkin, the touch of a beautiful woman, and an even more vivid experience of a rock-hard coin dropping into me.
I shivered with anticipation.
My beautiful trash can body hummed as I processed the trash into raw materials. While I waited, I noticed that the workday had come to a close and everyone was absent in the streets. The lantern posts were lit, bathing my metallic surface in a warm glow.
+400 Earth Element
+57 Fire Element
+11 Water Element
+7 Air Element
+1208 XP
+1 Level
+1 Class Point
"Unlock: Touch."
"Touch unlocked."
Immediately, something punched me in the back of the head, and my face slammed against the concrete sidewalk. My head throbbed in pain as I felt the grit of the dirt on my face.
I looked over to see a cloaked figure - a city employee!
Those fuckers were already dealing with me, to throw me into a compactor, to smelt me down into nothing, to destroy me by throwin
g me into an even bigger recycler!
Or... no, it was just a thief.
Beneath the hood, I could see a young feminine face - a teenage girl - just before she threw some type of cloth over me.
Clang.
8: Trash Cans Don’t Have Plot Armor
Clakang.
After being carried some unknown distance away, I was tossed aside and slammed against the floor. The cloth veil was yanked from me, and two curious faces stared back.
Around them was a dirty room lined with aging brick walls. Bedrolls were pushed in the corner, crates and barrels stacked to the ceiling and gathering dust, and a line of candles flickered atop an empty bookshelf.
The young girl pulled her hood back, revealing a freckled face with reddish-brown hair. As with any female, a quick scan of her looks told me she was too young. Beside her, an older male, roughly in his twenties. He looked through my vending glass with a sort of feigned interest.
"It doesn't have much," the guy said.
"It doesn't need to," said the girl. "We feed it things, and it spits things out."
The guy sighed. "This is stupid. If you were gonna steal something, why didn't you steal food or weapons? Now that's something we could use." He pulled a small knife from his pocket and started poking around my visor. Tiny jolts of pain sparked through me as he tried to force me open, struggling to unlock my coin storage - or worse - my prized treasure of napkins.
"They won't let me," the girl shot back. "I beg them to let me help the cause somehow, but they keep ratting on and on that I'm too young."
"They have a point." The guy's face was reddening as he tried and failed to break open my shell. Before long, he was outright stabbing me in frustration. "This piece of shit," he grunted. "Sis, go get me the hammer."
This lesser male was going to put dents into my pristine surface! This was an assault on my trash can sovereignty.
My tiny motors whirled as I eased the visor open, presenting him with the gift of premium napkins. His eyes brightened, and he stuck his hand in to take the bait.
Snap.
He howled in rage as he gripped his wounded fingers. "Piece of shit!" I wished that I had unlocked the ability to speak so that he could hear my wild, devilish laughter. My amusement was halted when he slammed his foot into my side.
