//------------------------------// // Part 1: The Store – IX // Story: Trolley Pushers // by Acologic //------------------------------// ‘Hi.’ ‘Hi,’ said Ale and at once added, ‘You’re Hull?’ ‘Yep,’ said Hull. He was skinny and weak-chinned, and he reminded Ale a lot of a pony who’d been bullied at school, which annoyed him. He particularly hated dealing with awkward ponies; it made him feel even more awkward himself, a feeling surely no one liked. Hull blinked at him silently, expectantly. Ale walked past him and towards the trolley hut without further comment. Hull followed. ‘Did you get the keys?’ asked Ale. Hull blinked back at him. ‘What?’ Ale sighed internally again. Of course he hadn’t. He was brand new, fresh out the training room, with no inkling of how anything worked in practice. ‘If you could go just inside the store to the desk,’ he said monotonously, ‘and ask for the keys to the trolley hut. It’s just inside the entrance. I’ll wait here.’ Hull seemed taken aback at these instructions, but obeyed, followed by the stinking cloud of self-consciousness Ale loathed so much, perhaps because he wore it himself. But today he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantness or self-critical self-awareness. He just wanted time to move fast, and fortunately, a bluntness that he rarely found happened to have settled on him, which would help hurry things along a little less painfully. He should have been pleased, but instead he was just fed up. Perhaps he had to be. ‘This is the trolley hut,’ said Ale once Hull had returned, unlocking it with the keys. ‘Do you have a clock-in card?’ ‘Yes,’ said Hull, pulling it out. ‘We clock in with the Company Com,’ said Ale, picking it up. ‘Press A to clock in and speak your number into the receiver.’ Ale showed him. ‘Then you swipe the card –’ He swiped his clock-in card through the Com slot. ‘Here. And that’s you. Same process at the end of your shift when you clock out, but it’s B on the Com to clock out. And there’s also a beep for reports, where you basically record a message for Gat if anything happens on your shift that he needs to know about.’ ‘What if nothing happens?’ ‘Just let it pass. It times out if you don’t speak. You swipe your card on the first beep.’ ‘OK,’ said Hull, coming forwards to take the Com from Ale. ‘Right. Then just make sure you’ve left everything in your pockets in one of the trays there. Especially your Com if you have one on you. You are allowed to keep your clock-in card in your pocket if you want.’ Once Hull had clocked in, Ale took him outside and explained to him the job they were there for. ‘Bays one, two, three, four, five and six,’ he said, pointing them out one at a time. ‘And there’s another one at the second entrance, the specialised bay. We keep the twin seaters and that sort of thing there.’ Hull nodded. ‘OK. Do we just take the rest to the big one there?’ ‘The main bay. Yes, and make sure they’re empty when you push them in. Sometimes shoppers leave crap in them.’ ‘Shouldn’t they get trouble?’ ‘They should, but we can’t do anything about it. Gat doesn’t care enough to bring it up.’ Hull took this with surprise. ‘But they’re employees too. How come they can get away with that?’ Ale gave a world-weary shrug. ‘Like I said. No one cares enough to bother. We’re just the trolley boys, after all.’ ‘Sounds pretty unfair.’ ‘You know what? It is. But it is how it is, and we’re used to it anyway. You’ll get used to it.’ ‘That’s pretty hypocritical from management, then,’ said Hull, much to Ale’s surprise. ‘I just went through all that training, and it was all about how the Company’s always got your back and how, if anything happens, you just tell your manager and they’ll make sure it’s dealt with.’ Ale was surprised. Here was a new start with a spine, something he certainly hadn’t been. It made him want to compensate for that now. ‘Well,’ he said as though unperturbed, ‘who’s going to hold the Company to account? Where do you live?’ ‘Tunk.’ ‘But is it Company housing?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘There you go,’ said Ale. ‘Who’s going to kick up a storm at the ponies who own the roof over our heads?’ ‘But,’ went on Hull, ‘you can always leave. They don’t own you.’ ‘Ever tried leaving the Company?’ ‘Well, no.’ ‘Is this your first time working for them?’ ‘Yes, but my dad –’ ‘But that’s my point,’ said Ale quite rudely, and he enjoyed the effect it seemed to have on Hull, whose confidence was diminishing. ‘Your dad’s with the Company too. And so are you now. You’re never really able to shake them off completely. Too many ponies rely on them now. They’re all over the north, in everything. Retail, entertainment, housing, medicine –’ ‘Well, then I’ll just find a different one,’ said Hull stubbornly, and Ale laughed without dissembling. ‘This is your first day, and you want to quit already?’ Hull smiled. ‘I wonder what your manager will say about you if I actually did.’ Ale grinned far wider than he meant to. Perhaps the day wouldn’t be a total drag after all.