Omake: Inglorious Sanitation Workers
1,057 miles outside of Cainopolis, on a farming estate.
Knock-Knock
The door banged with a precise rhythm. The farmer opened the door. Standing outside was a sanitation worker garbed in the traditional bright orange cloak of the Sanitation Guild. The gasmask betrayed neither gender nor intent.
"What do I owe this vist from the Sanitation Guild?"
"Oh, just a friendly visit. I hope you don't mind me intruding?"
"No, of corse not. Please come in." The farmer gestured for the worker to enter. "Julia, be a dear and fetch them a drink."
The guild member stepped forward; a finger traced along the doorframe. "A bit dusty, eh, Mr. LaPadite?"
"Pardon," cough, the farmer choked out, "pardon me, sir, we were not expecting guest."
"You know, you should consider getting an autocleaner installed for your house. With the subsidies provided, I hear they are quite affordable." The sanitation guild worker fumbled through their coat. "I know I have a brochure here somewhere."
"Thank you, sir. We'll keep it in mind."
"Of course, Mr. LaPadite. Please sit down. I'll only take a minute of your time. Now, Mr. LaPadite, do you know what this is?" The bright orange glove pulled out a dataslate and slid it toward the farmer.
"A bill?"
"Not just any bill, Mr. LaPadite." The sanitation worker played with a bit of dust from the doorframe between his gloved fingers. "This is your sewage bill."
The farmer gulped. "I'm sure we payed it on time." The farmer's wife came to the table with two hot beverages. "Thank you, Julia. Here you are, sir."
The sanitation worker, still playing with the dust, leaned back in his chair. "You know, Mr. LaPadite, do you know what my favorite thing about orange is? It's very hard to hide stains in orange."
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"No, no, just an idle thought. No, your sewage bill was paid on time and in full. It's just… well, it's a bit less than what it usually is." The sanitation worker pushed the hot drink away from them.
"Yes. Cough Yes, our son died a month ago. Our household needs have been more lower."
"I'm sorry for your loss. Did you see a counselor after his death? There are a number of therapists available for free."
"No, sir. My wife and I have been grieving in our own way."
"To each their own. Now, about that sewage bill, it is a tenth of what it once was, to be precise. Well, your son must have been a big eater. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
"Well, me and my wife has tried our hand at composting."
"Composting? I see. Well, that's all the questions I had." Before the sanitation worker got out of their seat, they stopped themselves. "Ah, one more thing, Mr. LaPadite. We seem to have misplaced your son's cremation certificate. Do you happen to know where it is?"
Before the farmer finished his flinch, two shots rang out. As the farmer and wife slumped to the floor, a voice croaked from the woman. "Hail, Nur."
Another shot silenced the woman before she finished.
"Disgusting," the sanitation worker flicked the dust off his gloves before exiting the farmhouse. "Control, we need a promethium bomb and slayer soap at these coordinates. Yes, the old burn and wash. We'll do a sweep of the compound for warp corruption afterward."