“Who doesn’t like us?” I asked with interest. “This is only my second day here.”
“Oh, that explains why you’re walking around in nothing but your underwear. First thing you should do is buy some sandals at least. It’s easy to hurt your feet here. Gotta have something on your feet. The sandals they sell have pretty thick soles, and they only cost two sol.”
“Thanks, I’ll get some. So who doesn’t like us?”
“Where?”
“In, uh... Drainagetown. That’s a city, right? So someone there doesn’t like orcs or goblins?”
“Right... I wouldn’t really call it a city. More of an upper district. Plenty of orcs and goblins live there — it’s not your race they don’t like, bro. It’s where you’re from. We’re from the outskirts, and they’re city guys. They like our money, but they don’t like us. Just want to bleed us dry then kick us out. They won’t even let us spend a night there without paying out the ass! The entrances to the capsules are all blocked off. Like some kind of defensive measures. Two sol to get in, another for the capsule itself. Three sol just for one night! So don’t even bother going there. Here’s good enough. And be careful with the booze! Don’t get too drunk at Rob-Rob’s, or someone will take a seat at your table, offer you a drink, and then you’re off on a real bad trip. The next morning you’ll wake up a goblin. A stupid, dirt-poor goblin. No offense, again.”
“Got it. A bad trip... Like what happened to you? A trip to Drainagetown?”
“Yeah. Hey, time to turn! Gotta get those numbers up!” We paused to do our job, then continued our talk.
Time flies when you have something to talk about. I felt like a worker in an old factory with bosses that didn’t care about anything. Chat with the other workers as much as you want. Nobody cares as long as the machinery is still running like it should.
“Drainagetown is just a huge, shitty industrial district. The primary filter is there.”
“Filter of what?”
“All the drains lead there, pass through their grates. Then it all keeps going.”
“Our drains? Like from the plumbing and whatever?”
“Ours, too, yeah. Through the pipes.”
“And whose else drains there?”
“You know, a bunch of them. Turn your handle.”
“Thanks. So, whose drains?”
“Who knows! Ask the elves!”
“Is that some kind of saying?”
“Yeah. Haven’t heard it yet?”
“Nope.”
“You’ll hear a lot about elves. Nobody’s ever seen one, but everybody talks about them.”
“Maybe they don’t really exist? Also, why elves? They couldn’t pick a better race?”
“Tell me, who are they?”
“Who?”
“They’re higher beings! Aren’t they?”
“Yeah, something like that, I guess.” I admitted, grabbing handle 7 again.
“I know it, too. Higher beings, immortal. Not like us, right? We’re mortals.”
“Got it. So Drainagetown is a district? Of a city?”
“Well, it’s the upper district of Murkwaters. But if it was up to me, I’d call their stinking fucking town the Universal Shit Collector! If you only knew how bad it stinks there! Especially in Drainagetown... you can’t walk around without a mask on. The whole city is stupid. Built vertically, like a goddamn skyscraper. The thick sludge runs downwards, but the lower it gets, the more liquid it becomes... And eventually it comes out as clean water. The halflings rule everything there, which isn’t surprising. They’re the hardest workers. And good at it. Hey, Eleven... let’s talk about something else. Like chicks.”
“You mean...”
“Yeah! What kind of girls do you like? I like redheads. They’re so clean. And a little mysterious, and, I mean... have you ever touched their skin? Even once? Were you, goblin, ever lucky enough to touch a natural redhead’s skin... It’s really something! And also...”
To my surprise and even fascination, he just kept going. Singing like a nightingale... And there was no stopping him! I wasn’t the only one listening, either. The guy at handle 6 overheard snatches of my neighbor’s ode to redheaded beauties, so he started coming over to listen. He’d go back to his handle, turn it, then come back and listen more. I could understand him. It wasn’t every day you met someone so passionately in love with natural redheads. And he knew so much about them... Things I had never even thought about. They were Nordic, apparently, and especially affectionate in stormy weather...
I didn’t even notice the time passing. I only managed to shake myself free of this hypnotic stupor when a sad-looking man with a dirty t-shirt over his sunken chest came up to me.
He drew his words out oddly as he spoke. “My... shift...”
I waited for the double yellow flash and signal, and headed out, relieved. I shook hands with the expert on redheads, nodded to the guy on handle 6, and said goodbye. They’d still be working for a while, since they had ORL status. They were orcs, not goblins.
