//------------------------------//
// Part 1: The Store – II 
// Story: Trolley Pushers 
// by Acologic 
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‘Do you know who’s coming in tomorrow?’ Ale asked Lime at half five, an hour before his shift was due to end.

‘Ant. Or East. Or one of the new starts.’

‘I’m pretty sure Ant was getting the day off.’

‘East then. I don’t know. Check the rota.’

‘But that’s what I’m saying, Gat’s not released it. He’ll need two on tomorrow as well, but I can’t remember if I’m supposed to come in an hour early. If it’s a new start, then sure, but if it’s East –’

‘Call Gat!’

‘Well, I’m just asking! If you knew, I wouldn’t have to call him, would I?’

‘Why don’t you just call him anyway?’

‘Alright, I’ll call him!’

Ale turned away and traipsed back to the trolley hut. He hated calling Gat because Gat hated being called. He expected each of them to have everything worked out, and if any of them called him for something he expected them to have worked out, which was everything, he’d let them know about it. Though it was Gat’s job to release the weekly rota in time for their shifts, he hadn’t yet, but no doubt he had a good excuse, which Ale would just have to accept. His shifts were mostly the same, but he didn’t want to leave it to chance and turn up late. Knowing Gat wouldn’t understand this, Ale picked up the Company Com resignedly once he’d unlocked the door and pressed Z. To his relief, the Com timed out. 

‘Well, he’s not picking up,’ he said to Lime once he’d locked the shed again. Lime, of course, gave no indication that he cared in the slightest. He shrugged and strode off to bay one, in which there were only two or three shallows. Ale’s relief was short-lived as he realised that, to be safe about it, he’d have to come in early tomorrow after all. He had a valid excuse not to, but it just wasn’t worth the trouble he feared it would cause. So he trudged over to bay three, his hooves aching. As he approached, he saw that the hazard cone he’d placed over the protruding concrete by recycling had fallen over. He shifted his hooves and walked over to recycling again, cracking his neck out of habit despite there being no cracks left in it.

Fifty-five minutes to go... he told himself dully. He stooped and righted the cone, then saw that it had rolled away from its spot. He frowned, took three paces to his right and replaced the cone over the protrusion. He remembered he’d have to report it in his clock-out call. 

‘Oi. Oi, Ale.’ Lime was back, and Ale couldn’t blame him for wanting to chat, however much he disliked making small talk with ponies he wasn’t close to. The shoppers were slow that evening. Not many had turned up, which most likely meant that tomorrow, being the last day of the Company week, would be even busier than usual. He hoped he’d be working with East. The new starts thought trolleys was all fun and games, fresh air, good exercise. Store staff in general thought that too until they tried it and the tedium sank in. Chatting to each other largely undisturbed was one of the few perks of the job, but Ale could only stomach so much of it. He passed the time by daydreaming, thinking, humming to himself. Unfortunately, most of the ponies he worked with didn’t think that way. 

‘Check this,’ said Lime, and on his Com he showed Ale a picture of a plastic gun. 

Ale hadn’t a clue how Lime expected him to react and so said, ‘Nice.’

‘I’m spraying it green to make it look authentic,’ Lime explained. ‘Look, see how I’ve done the trigger there as well. Pretty good job, if I say so myself! Have you ever done airsoft?’

Ale had, but he wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. It had been dull and somewhat painful. ‘I’ve had a go,’ he said.

‘Aw man,’ Lime said as though Ale had announced his dedication to the sport. ‘We’ve got to get together and play sometime. Which guns do you have? I’m thinking to set up a group and go up the hill near my house. There’s no one around, so we can have a really big map and shoot each other up fully auto and shit. It’ll be sick.’

‘I don’t actually have a gun,’ said Ale. ‘I played it once with a friend, ages ago. He lent me a pistol or something like that.’

Lime wasn’t deterred. ‘I know a really good shop where you can get one. Company shop, so you’d get a discount, and I’ve got so much good ammo, by the way. You wouldn’t have to buy any of that if you came along. A good gun will only cost you a couple hundred, and when you think about it, that’s not bad. That’s really good.’

Completely certain that he would not be spending a couple of hundred on a plastic gun, Ale smiled nonetheless and placed his strap over the few trolleys in bay three. 

Lime, as he had expected, did not take the hint.