Monologue of a Trash Collector

“Do you know why we Scrappers have so much pride as a community?”

The man paced before Tobias, who, for his part, sat politely and inclined his head to listen in spite of the pounding headache he had woken with. He blinked through the bright lights, trying to get a good look at the Scrapper.

“Do you know why we, who toil at the absolute bottom of this farce your people call an economy, wouldn’t give up any of it for the wealth you think you have?”

Worn leather aviation cap and goggles, brown eyes, black waxed mustache, red and white stripped shirt, patched overalls, tall yellow boots, tattoo of a rusted gear on his forehead: Tobias checked off the list in his head. Unless someone else was running around the Undercity with this sort of a fashion sense, the man was definitely his target.

“It’s because we of all people understand value when we see it. There are very few methods of creating actual wealth. All of them involve harvesting a part of the world, be it food or minerals or energy. Everything after is little more than a retooling of that wealth. Eventually the product of this prosperity wears out and is discarded. So where did the wealth go?

Tobias tried to smile; he really did. The problem was that the knots were tied too tight and the dented metal can wasn’t much to sit on. Not that he could blame the Scapper for cutting off all the circulation in his right wrist. This almost always happened.

“It rots- that is, until we Scrappers find it. Nothing is so broken that it can’t be fixed. Only, we don’t need to sell our souls to do it. Understand Lefty? We alone exist free of the constraints you toil under.”

“No one exists above the law Mr. Colderan.” Tobias interrupted, but only out of courtesy. It would have been rude after all, to snap his bonds and punch the man without explaining why. “Please come along now or we will be late.” His boss would be waiting, and anything short of punctuality simply wouldn’t do.

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This is more of an idea sketch than anything else. There's a story in this world I'd like to write I'm currently calling: 'The Gateway to Theia.' The incarnation of Tobias in that story will be a bit different if I write it. I made him overly polite from a narration perspective in this sketch just for the giggles.