Chapter Two "Coping"
When the dawn rose on the next day; it was met with a determination that we wouldn’t concede to defeat. We chose to press on with our attempts to get items to consign. At first all we were getting were cheap items, perfume, wish-you tissues (By the Watcher, who throws out those things?), stuff that we wouldn’t be able to get anything for. Those went directly back into the dumpster. Or sold off to a passerby. “Hey ya need a box of kleenex, maybe a half used bottle of Chanel No. 5? Five simol...”
“Ewwww get that thing away from me, Are you kidding me?” Well, so much for that entrepreneurial tack...
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As our dumpster diving experience grew, we were able to grab things like a lamp or a rug that would sell for more simoleons when consigned. Hey, at least it was an illuminating experience owing as to how much we could smell with our heads in the dumpster. And we left a yucky green stench trail as we walked home. If it wasn’t for the fact that we had to deal with the smell because we didn’t have a shower yet to speak of, we would have gladly used an inordinate amount of water to clean the disgusting scent off us. Let’s face it, we frankly stunk. And frankly, if I were a proprietor, I wouldn’t serve us either. It was more than revolting. River and I oft-wondered if we’d ever get the smell off us.
The tent got hot and muggy too. There was no air-conditioner to cool us down. Even if we had one we didn’t have a generator to use electricity and to tell you the truth, with gas prices at §1.72 a liter, it was uneconomical. If you put in 2 gallons of gas for maybe four hours of running...you’d be spending in the neighbourhood of §16 and what would that get you? An iota’s worth of cooling and then you’re back to being hot and miserable again. Trying to gain sixteen simoleons was practically a hit or miss option when it came to finding stuff in the dumpster that might give us a leg up. And the costs of furniture and other items that one needed to start building a house let alone buying a lot sizeable enough to live on were astronomical and the large earning potential options were capped with sizable fines if you took the route of poaching a spotted sixam or a falcon which would nail you a §10K Department of Wildlife and Fisheries fine for sale of a restricted and protected species or consigned a plutonium or tiberium which would more than likely net you a §50,000 fine plus seizure of all restricted items in your possession. So no...one would prefer not to have something like that happen. The §42K top consignment proceeds limit of a tiberium large spire wasn’t worth getting nailed by a §50K fine. We’d have to watch our dog or cat if we ever got either and make sure he/she dropped his/her find somewhere where no-one would know we’d had (past-tense) one in our possession. Shhhhhh...
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Only in the interior rural areas were we able to get some respite from the imposition of the law enforcement that seemed to permeate the urban areas...they would make your life miserable by fining you for all sorts of infractions. If you dropped garbage on the ground instead of in a waste receptacle, they’d nail you for that. If you loitered a bit too long at a location or sat down to use a park bench, they’d hustle you along, telling you to “beat it...” If you were homeless, you weren’t human, according to them. And thus, you were stuck being miserable, out in the elements and in the cold or the heat depending on the season. So we were here in Appaloosa Plains watching the rich people with the horses and farms going off to do whatever it was they do; riding lessons, horse racing, etc. Who knew, all we knew was that we didn’t have that kind of money. Maybe we could bet on the horse races if we had the money to, but we didn’t. Money was too precious to come by and most of it went into our stomachs trying to keep up enough strength to get up and do what we had to do the following day. Maybe life would get better; maybe it wouldn’t. The only thing one could do is just keep getting up the following day and keep trudging through. At least that would make things a bit better in the end...hopefully. At least that was the hope.
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In any case, River and I tried to keep our spirits up, whether it was using the cover of a good bush area near a water source to swim in...and at least hope that no-one saw us trying to bathe there. There was also a substantial fine for polluting a waterway. But if you didn’t get clean, you didn’t stay healthy. And becoming sick was a quick trip to the morgue if you were homeless. Colds could quickly turn into flu, flu could quickly turn into pneumonia, pneumonia could lead to lung and organ shut-down. You’d be placed into an in-ground group plot with a bunch of other no-names and no-one could care anything about who you were, what you were about, and why you came to be that way. If you’re a homeless person, you end up being a non-person.
So, River and I took every possible opportunity to stay clean, stay close to a water source and found a way to decontaminate water whether it was via a Puri-Straw that took river-water and purified it to potable/drinkable standards.
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We had a cooler so that we could use it to keep stuff if we were lucky enough to have money enough to buy ice...but it didn’t last more than a day so we could only use it on a hot day to keep just enough perishables cool to eat for that day. Then we were back to square one. On the other hand, it could keep enough water in the cooler so that we had drinkable water for a day or two if we boiled it or drank it through the purifying straw.
Our routine became one of get up...eat a fruit or two (an apple) and then go to the nearest orchard to try to see if we could get some more fruits for the next day. We couldn’t get into the firehall and the leisure center wouldn’t allow us in either, so our only bet was to use the washroom facilities at the park and they were closed from 11:00PM to 7:00AM which made things really troublesome if we had to go in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to end up needing the use of the facilities. It was either break in (which was illegal) to the firehall or the leisure center or just find a convenient bush to use as a toilet which might net you a fine for indecent exposure. After all, if you gotta go, ya gotta go.
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If one couldn’t, then well, other problems propped up...such as kidney failure – dialysis and eventually death. But then nobody really cares, do they? It’s just a homeless person, not an asset to society, anyways.
