by Rae Nantes
"Take it easy," the girl said. "It probably has a human soul!"
"What?"
What? How could this dirty kid know that I was trapped in here? Did she have special magic eyes?
"You didn't know?" the girl continued. "Prisoners get their souls transported into these recyclers as punishment for their crimes."
The guy scoffed. "That's just a myth."
I drew a coin from my collection and shot it at him from the coin slot. It plinked off his knee. "Fuck."
"See?" the girl said. "I'm certain this has to be one of them!" She petted my top visor as if I were a kitten. "If we're kind, maybe it'll be kind in return."
"That's stupid," the guy said. "It's probably just an AI, and even if it was a person, it was likely a murderer or blood wizard or something."
Cling-tap!
Another coin shot out and thumped against his shin. "Piece of shit! You know what? Fuck it. Let's just smelt it down and sell the scrap!"
"No!" the girl shouted. She hugged me defensively. "We should take care of it and feed it stuff and name it and dress it and–"
"This isn't a game, Jenna," he interrupted. "We're fighting to topple the new regime, and this trash can," he gestured to me, "isn't gonna help anybody kill that dictatorial bitch, Marianna."
Click.
My glass visor shot open, and my coins poured out onto the floor like a waterfall of rattling change.
9: Overused Rebel Arc
It was a rebel group.
Once they realized that I was human on the inside, and even better, had a mysterious distaste for the current government, they left me alone for the night.
With nothing better to do, I eavesdropped on their conversations - and the conversations of other passing rebels. Apparently, Marianna the Harlot Queen had usurped the throne after the royal family had all died out, and numerous rebel groups had risen up to challenge her. That stupid bitch had gone so far out of her way to manipulate me to do her dirty work, and although I was still enraged that she took everything from me, I had to respect her somewhat.
I was never one to use lesser tactics, such as cunning or trickery to finish quests or to get what I want. It was always my irresistible charm and my immeasurable power. Her checkmate on not just me, but the entire royal family was a good one, but I have no intention of bending my knee to such a disgusting whore. She wasn’t even pretty. No one would’ve wanted her. Why else would so many people want her dead? Well, that might have something to do with her dystopian policies.
Apparently, Marianna had no idea how to run a country, and after killing all of the king's advisors, she hiked taxes up and immediately cracked down on separatists throughout the country. The rebels were constantly paranoid over the city police, which had scarcely been a problem before. It seemed Marianna had sought to create a police state.
I figured that once I could regain my old body and powers, I would usurp her and become the new king of this land. At least I would be successful because everybody loved me. That is if I could find a way to fix this clusterfuck. In the meantime, I could see how the rebel groups worked from the inside so that when I became king, I would have no problem smashing them to bits.
Morning came, and the rebel hideout soon became alive with activity.
People came in and out to dump random things into the nearby chests - weapons, potions, armor - but the only thing I was being used for was a convenient garbage can. By sunset, the only things I were able to recycle were the usual bits of trash - candy bar wrappers, paper cups, dirty napkins, and leftover food. Now that the situation had changed, I knew it wouldn't be a good business decision to keep producing paper goods.
The problem was solved once the girl and guy returned.
They burst the door open carrying lumpy sacks that clinked and clanked and wasted no time to dump the contents into me.
+4.7kg Scrap Metal
+1.5kg Scrap Metal
+2.11kg Scrap Metal
+7.14kg Scrap Metal
The guy tossed the empty bags aside and stared into me, watching as I hummed, and my insides glowed to smelt the scrap into something usable. A minute passed, and his face turned to a scowl. "Hurry up," he demanded.
Hummmm.
"It takes time," the girl soothed.
Thack. A throbbing pain shot through me. Assface McGee had kicked me. "Well, it needs to take less time. We don't have forever."
+4796 Earth Element
+2281 Fire Element
+113 Water Element
+11 Air Element
+19,250 XP
+3 Levels
+3 Class Points
That was underwhelming. It was a ton of scrap iron, but it only amounted to just a few levels. This was probably because I was breaking out of noob territory and the levels had much higher XP requirements. At least I did get a quick few levels from just one haul - and now I was even closer to my goals.
This was good.
Thack. "Hurry up and make us some knives," Assface shouted.
Even if I could make knives - it was just a class skill unlock away - I wouldn't. This guy was clearly a jerk. Instead, I dropped another point into the sensory tree.
"Unlock Smell."
"Smell Unlocked."
The wholesome scents of the world flooded through me. Burning metal, moldy wood, dust and grime and sweaty people. Ah, yes, the stuff of life. Not a good life, but it is life, nonetheless - and I hated it. If I weren't forced to take these skills to unlock the ability to move around and manipulate my surroundings, I wouldn't even think about dealing with this stuff. Why was this even a thing? What purpose could the sense of smell offer a trash can?
Is this punishment?
No. This was just another stepping stone. All of this was.
Thack. "Knives!"
I really wished I could speak, but the next skill in the sensory tree was Taste. There wasn't even a guarantee that such a thing could be unlocked. Oh well. I dropped a point into Vend: Metals so I could do some metalworking just so I could get this guy off my dick.
"Unlock: Vend: Metals."
"Vend: Metals Unlocked."
Great. With this skill, I could do basic metal working to pump out things like ugly little trinkets, aluminum cans, letter openers, and - you guessed it - knives.
Hummmmm.
"I think it's doing it," the girl said.
"Thank you," he said with a sigh of irritation. "With weapons being banned, knives are going hot on the black market."
Click.
+Short Knife (Common), Level 5
Mmm, yep. That's a knife. More of a dagger, really, and I assumed that's what he was asking for. I didn't care to see what the stats were since I already knew they would be of noob quality.
I slid open my glass visor, and he took it, inspected its edge, weight, balance, then nodded with vague satisfaction. "Good enough," he said. "Make more, and we will bring more scrap."
Even without me being able to speak, the deal between us was set without words. If I supplied knives and weapons for free - and missing out on XP in the process - I would get regular shipments of scrap to melt for a more reliable source of experience points.
He turned to the girl. "Can these make bombs?"
Before she could answer, the door slammed open, and a terrified face appeared. It was a dirty man, a homeless guy probably, and he seemed out of breath. "Thomas! Jenna!"
"Father," the girl said. "What's wrong?'
The lunatic hobo rushed to throw blankets over everything. "It's the Black Watch! They're coming!" He grabbed a huge sack and hesitated before covering me with it.
"Shit," Assface said. "Make sure that–"
Heavy knocks thudded against the door. "City Police," the voice on the other side said. "We need to do a routine inspection."
10: Mistakes Were Made
Silence.
From the thin fabric of the sack that was covering me, I could faintly see two city guards standing in the room, royal policemen. They wore the
usual white and red leather armor with black armbands. On it, the face of a gold lion was imprinted. Longswords dangled at their waists. They smelled like old milk. Assface, the young girl, and their father all stood quietly around the room.
Though not a word had been spoken, they were terrible liars.
"Well?" the first guard asked. Crumbs and crust lined his week-old stubble. "Yer not gon' tell us wot's 'ere then?"
"Answer the man," the younger guard ordered. He was the young, enthusiastic type. Equal parts blond and annoying.
"Goods," said Assface. "We're considering on opening a business."
"A business," echoed the old guard. He stepped over a small crate to get closer. "A business fer wot?" He waved his hand around the clutter of the room. "All's I see is a buncha trash in 'ere, innit?"
"An all-purpose shop," said Assface. "We're new to this sort of thing."
Old guard tilted his head in amusement. "Ya don't say?" He stepped closer with wild eyes. "Suppose we had a gander 'round 'ere, don't think we'd find nuffin, eh?"
"What?"
"Don't mind if we take a gander 'round 'ere, don't suppose we'd ain't find a lick a nuffin, eh?"
"What?"
"Answer the man!" barked the young officer.
"I don't know what he just said!"
The young guard answered. "If we were to search your goods, would we find anything?"
"Yeah," Assface said. "You'd find simple, ordinary goods for sale."
The young guard winced and rolled his hand. "Like?"
Assface squinted his eyes as they slid across the room. "Paper... cups."
"Paper cups," the young guard echoed. "You're starting a business selling–"
"And napkins. The good kind. Not the kind you'd get from a downtown hotdog shop."
The young officer shivered in confusion. "Those are good napkins. What's wrong with hotdog napkins."
"An' good cups, innit?" said the old guard. "Too 'ard to mistake dat one, ya?"
"What?"
"He said–"
"Look!" the father interrupted. He kicked the lid off a nearby crate. It was too high for me to see what was inside, but the others in the room all peered in from their now-designated spots in the room. The father waved out his hands with reason. "It's a trade secret. It's gonna make us great money, and we can't have anybody running around and snitching."
"Snitching," the young guard echoed. He looked back down into the crate. "I don't even know what this is."
"Good," said the father. "You shouldn't."
"Heavy secret ta 'ave," said the old guard. "Bit costly ta keep 'er dat way, innit?"
"What?" said the father.
The young guard answered. "He said, it's a bit expensive to keep such a secret."
"What?" said the son.
"What do you not understand?" the young guard shot out. "He's suggesting that maybe he'll have a few pints at the tavern later, and his lips will all get loosey-goosey and start slipping around all over the place."
Assface shook his head in tired desperation. "What does that even mean? What are you even saying?"
A disquiet passed over the room like a thick veil of self-hatred and linguistic doubt. A dog barked in the distance. A far door opened and shut. The young guard held a steady iron gaze, but his head moved almost imperceptibly as if the gears inside were churning out a universally understood sentence. With a faint nod to himself, he shared it. "Bribe."
"What?"
"What do you not understand?" the young guard shouted. He marched over, gripped Assface's collar, and shoved him into the wall. Dust fell from them and caught the sunlight slipping through the window. He spoke through his teeth. "Give us money to keep our mouths shut. It's that easy. You pay us, we won't snitch on your little bullshit potion selling."
"Fine," said Assface. He glanced nervously at the others. "I suppose 50 gold would be good for your troubles for keeping us and our business safe."
The young guard glanced at the old one, who nodded with crossed arms, then the young guard backed away. "Our rates just went up. It'll need to be a bit more."
Assface sighed. "How about 60."
I stopped listening. The gripping conversation had melted away into a boring duel of bartering between rebel thieves and crooked cops, and frankly, I had much better things to do. I had 1 class point that I needed to put somewhere, and now would be as good as a time as any.
My choices were this:
Sensory > Taste
Can taste things.
Utility > Vend: Food
Can sell complex organic products, such as food.
Efficiency > Recycle+
Raw Materials acquired by recycle increased to 50%.
If I were leveling normally, I would probably take the efficiency boost. That was a no-brainer and being able to create food and snacks would be a viable option just about anywhere. Taste, of course, was the dumbest skill I had ever heard of in my entire multi-century existence. Why, just why, would a literal garbage can need to taste things? Was this the final frontier of bad design?
I once considered that those Grand Magi who created the world and its systems were geniuses, their wisdom unattainable, their comprehension elusive by all - but this shit? Why? I had so many questions, and I soon found myself having an existential breakdown as I stared into the abyss of an unnecessary sensory option - and the abyss stared back.
"Unlock: Taste."
"Taste Unlocked."
Immediately, I could taste a hint of warm metal combined with the faint texture of dry paper and rough napkins. It was... interesting to say the least, but now I knew why this was a skill. Some of this stuff tasted outright good, and if an artificial intelligence had been manning a recycler, it would've never known the pleasures of fine dining. It would hunger for the taste of scrap metal and leftover mustard. It was weird, but I couldn't imagine having anything worse thrown into me.
When I looked at my skills, I could see that the next one was Manipulation. Finally. It gave me a shining glimmer of hope that I would be able to have something as hands and arms, and hopefully, legs and feet. This was progress. Shitty progress, but at least I was getting somewhere.
The sack was yanked off me.
I looked at the others in the room. They were shouting about this or that, counting on their fingers as if that could help their arguments, but they were still going on about how much a bribe should be when considering the economic viability of an anti-aging potion. The guards were gripping the hilts of their longswords and throwing pointed fingers, but my presence wasn't something out of the ordinary for them.
"Alright!" shouted Assface. "I'll give you 150. It's all I have." He reached for his coin purse, fondled it a bit as it clinked around, then tossed it at the guard.
The young guard caught it, then nodded in satisfaction. Then, the unexpected. With well-practiced dexterity, he yanked down his trousers in a single motion, showing all his dangly-bits in their rawest form. "And this is for being such a pain in the ass." He scooted over to me with his pants around his ankles and spun around.
Before me stood another abyss. It stared into me. A pale set of ass cheeks with a smell that I wouldn't describe, a gaping maw of something so terrible - yet I couldn't look away as it hovered over me, taunting me, pulsing with malice and looming disaster. The light in the room darkened, the wild shouts faded away to muffling. The abyss widened, and I could only stare in powerless disbelief as the worse happened.
+1 Human Turd.
11: Shit Eater
For the longest time, my mind simply did not accept what had happened. There was absolutely no possibility that a human turd plopped into my garbage can mouth, right?
Hummmm.
"New Recipe: Potassium Nitrate."
What? Apparently, getting shit in my mouth meant unlocking a recipe. Why this was a thing, I didn't know. It seemed that the more time I spent in a garbage can body, the fewer sense things began to make. I brought open my status screen to look for some answers
- anything to get my mind off the stench and the mushy texture.
Unnamed Recycler
HP: 0/0
MP: 1000/1000
Skills:
>Sensory
Sight
Hearing
Touch
Smell
Taste
>Utility
Vend: Paper
Vend: Metals
>Efficiency
N/A
Disciplines:
Smithing
Alchemy
Cooking
Crafting
I glanced over at my recipe list and found the newly obtained alchemy tab. A list of strange names stared back at me as my eyes - or mind's eye - slipped down the waterfall of shit I didn't understand. Nitrates, Sulfates, Potassium Hydroxide, like twenty kinds of acids, novice-level alchemical projects, tons of stuff that simultaneously bored me and fascinated me. Could I use any of this? Probably not.
I expanded the description for Potassium Nitrate and gave it a look over.
>Potassium Nitrate is an alkali metal nitrate, often referred to by its trade name, Saltpeter. It is used in fertilizers, as a cooking ingredient, a food preservative, and a component of gunpowder.
Gunpowder. Whoever knew that the secret to gunpowder was literal shit.
Click.
+5 Fire Element
+1 Earth Element
+20XP
Oh? If the components of gunpowder only amounted to just a handful of fire and earth elements, bomb and gunsmithing weren’t far away. I considered the infinite wisdom of the Grand Magi when they designed such a convenient system. It was honestly pretty amazing.
But it still didn’t change the fact that poop fell in my mouth.
If I could find a way to craft gunpowder, maybe I could also create a gun to insert into that guy's bootyhole. Yes, this is excellent. It must be done.
I felt hands tapping at my lid. It was the girl, with a grimace and an apologetic look in her eyes. "Sorry, sorry." She was petting me.
She was petting a garbage can.
"Jenna!" Assface said. "Stop touching that, it just got popped on!"
