Not Just Scrap to Deal With

The administrative office was a small, unassuming building huddled on the edge of the scrapyard. It was a humble structure made of metal and concrete with a single entrance that led into a sparsely furnished room. Inside was a reception area near the door, and behind it was an array of shelves, filing cabinets, and a large desk with a computer buried in paperwork.

As Zephyr stepped through the threshold, he was immediately greeted by the familiar sight of a tall, Amazonian-esque, woman. Her long dark brown hair was tied in a loose bun, and a pair of silver glasses were perched on her nose. She was engrossed in a document, her sharp eyes scanning its text before looking up at the sound of the door opening. Her expression immediately shifted from concentration to surprise.

"Zeph? What are you… doing here so late?" Minerva asked, tilting her head to the side. "I saw your truck pull in, but I thought I was… mistaken when you didn't come by. Did you… lose track of time again?"

He smiled, shaking his head at the awkwardly paced speech. "Nah, I just got sidetracked. Had an unexpected conversation with someone out in the yard. Anyway, do you have a moment to talk, Min?"

"For you? Always," she replied, setting the paper she was reading down on her desk. "Can I offer you… something to drink? I have tea, coffee, water…"

"I'll pass. I'm only going to take a minute of your time, if that."

She nodded. "Is this a problem with… the containers, then? You seem troubled."

"Sort of. I happened to stumble across one of them that was open. Turns out that someone's been squatting in it. I talked to them, and they're in the process of moving out as we speak."

"Oh…" Minerva frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Did you… call the authorities? Did the situation end… in violence? Are you hurt?"

"What? No, nothing that serious. They were a kid—well, a teenager—and they agreed to pack up and leave. The reason why I'm here is that I wanted to ask if it'd be okay if I bought some of the stuff that was in her container. They need it, and I don't think it's fair to just kick them out empty-handed."

"…How old?" she asked as her expression shifted again.

"Who?"

"The person… who was using the container as a domicile."

"Oh, fifteen, from what she told me."

"Is she native… to The Bygone?"

He shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. I don't remember seeing her before, and she said that she's here to make a new life for herself."

Minerva nodded. "I will notify the appropriate… organizations to assist her then. If you could… bring her here, it would be greatly appreciated."

He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. "Ooh, about that, I don't think she's going to want to go to an org. I tried to suggest that she find one in the city for help, but she refused. Said she was going to manage on her own without handouts or strings attached."

Minerva blinked at him, unimpressed. "But… is she not currently relying on… your charity?"

"I mean, you could see it that way, but I'm just helping her out a little."

Minerva pursed her lips, turning thoughtful for a moment. "Hm. I understand. Then perhaps you can… inform her that there are organizations that provide assistance that… do not attach any strings."

"Eh, maybe somewhere down the line, but I think I'll hold off on that for now. If she doesn't want to go to an org, then there isn't really anything we can do."

She finally seemed convinced. "Very well. If she is unwilling, I will not… press the issue." Minerva's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she spoke again. "Still, I worry. It is… not the best time of year to be on the streets. It is… rather cold."

Zephyr agreed, leaning against the desk. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm gonna see if there is something I can do to help her."

He would rather not have the girl freezing to death. His conscience was already heavy enough.

She paused, examining his expression, before smiling lightly. "You have always… been kind-hearted, Zeph. I am sure you will be able to… find a solution that works for everyone."

"Erm, I don't think 'kind-hearted' is how most folks would describe me," he said, awkwardly chuckling. "Anyway, here's the container numbers for the stuff I'm taking and the stuff she's probably touched. Can you run it by me?"

"Certainly." Minerva took the slip of paper he handed to her and quickly typed the information into her computer. After a few moments, she looked back at him. "That comes to… 1,500 dollars, or 14.87 credits. Is that… acceptable, Zeph?"

He winced. Ouch. Of course it'd be that much.

"I don't have much choice, but yeah, I'll take it. I'm assuming your workers can take care of the mess she left?"

Minerva seemed to sense his internal cringe, and she smirked, exhaling a little more forceful than usual.

"Mm. I will send you… an invoice then. And yes, they are capable. Thank you for your patronage, and… please stay safe, Zeph."

He scratched the back of his as he turned toward the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I will."

With a parting wave, he exited the administrative office and headed back to his truck across the gravel.

He still had a squatter to deal with. And the vague, sinking feeling he’d just volunteered for a whole heck of lot more.