We rescued two strangers who'd been badly beaten. We saved them, though when awake, something about them scared us, but we couldn't figure out why. When our world began to change, get cleaner, and we could get food and medicine easier, we found out who they were, when they came to talk to us after.
@internutter/challenge-04771-m022-kindess-to-strangers -- Anon Guest
Places with the Rot had giant blue slugs in them, so Diin and the crew kept away from them. They didn't chase after anyone and seemed content to graze on filth, but the whole gang had learned the lesson of the drones. There were easier stores to steal from, and a wider variety of food stored. It was almost like someone was leaving them there on purpose.
It took them three weeks to notice that curfew wasn't called any more.
Lynn couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a drone. Or any enforcers, for that matter. Kron was the first one to notice how easily everyone was breathing after the strangers vanished. Hox made the discovery that the blue slug poop was valuable minerals. Stuff they could exchange for money at the gleaming new depositories.
Diin was the fastest, so he was the first to run and deposit a poop ball, then dash off with his fists full of small bills. There were no alarms. No surprise enforcers coming for their butts. Nothing more than a friendly, synthetic voice.
"Thank you for contributing to reclamation and reformation," it said. "Please come again."
Nobody in their lives had said 'please'. They knew the word existed, but it had never been uttered in their direction. Especially not from anyone or anything in authority. They used the money to buy better packs and shoes. The shoes kept their feet from injury, and the packs helped them carry more of the poop balls for more money.
They could outfit the holla with things they'd always needed. They didn't even need to hunt or figure out how to steal algablox. The food was easy to get and never caused trouble for them. The commerce zones never cast them out, and they could actually shop.
They bought a datareader for the holla, and figured out how to use it to find out what in the name of anything real had happened.
The Great Master of Commerce was gone, and outsiders had come from the stars to help. The giant slugs were cleaning up nasty stuff and pooping out balls of stable material. Free medical centres were springing up within easy access to the gutter districts as well as the places the gang inhabited.
One was in the very alley that they found Sweatervest and Braces.
That was too much co-incidence. They had to look.
Sweatervest was seated outside the entrance. Knitting. Pretending he didn't already know they were casing the place. Just looking calm, relaxed, and in charge.
He looked in charge even when he was passed out.
Hox dared show himself, halfway ready to bolt it trouble started. He waited, coiled and wary, for anything bad. Which decidedly refused to happen. Even when Hox cautiously approached Sweatervest.
"I thought I'd thank you fully," said Sweatervest. He never stopped knitting. "Would you like to know how my compatriot and I healed so quickly?"
"Yeah?" risked Hox.
"B'Nari nanites," said Sweatervest. "Tiny robots made to maintain the body and repair damage. They're immensely handy in my line of work."
"You exploded the Great Master, didn't you?"
"That would be my compatriot. I despise mess. My part of the operation was to get my compatriot into the complex without setting off any alarms." A pause to count stitches, "Or too many deaths."
"This nano stuff doesn't track us, right?"
"Of course not. Tracking is opt-in only. I understand why you wish to avoid it, given your history. The people here will have to scan you in order to program the nanites, but that is all."
Hox made a dubious murmur.
"If you don't want them, you can still come in for a basic health check. No strings attached."
If it was anyone else, Hox wouldn't believe them. And if Hox didn't believe them, none of the gang would.
This was Sweatervest paying his debt.
[Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash]
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