Cleaning Crew

Liam always spent his nights alone. He had long workdays that left him feeling exhausted, and he wasn’t a young college student eager to go out drinking anymore, he was a responsible and boring adult. Besides, alcohol, entertainment, well, doing anything, was expensive.

The block housing he lived in supported a good number of people, but he’d never met any of them. No one was eager to hang around the place, and his shifts left him waking up and coming back before most. There were never any events, or any gatherings, or even just a community chat, the place was relatively silent, an ominous and gloomy haphazard pile of boxes.

Tonight, though, was different. Liam ambled up the street as usual, letting his mini-me distract him with whatever it deigned would be the most entertaining. It was easier to let it choose for him, to let it find something that would prevent him from having to think, from having to feel.

His usual routine was to simply flop himself upon his bed like the carcass of a dead whale and let his brain rot until his mini-me forced him to go through the exercises, or paperwork, or whatever was supposed to be productive. After that he’d simply lay on his bed until sleep finally claimed his weary body. It was a rather pathetic way to spend his nights, but it was low effort. It’s not the sort of thing that’s particularly enjoyed or desired, it’s the sort of routine endlessly repeated because it represents the path of least resistance, an easy and painless way to end the day that didn’t involve energy or money Liam didn’t have.

Liam sighed, tonight looked like it was shaping up to be something different.

A government van was parked on the road in front of the block houses, a white thing marked with the words CLEANING CREW in bold black letters. Cars were a rarity, a thing for the ultra-wealthy, or for government grunts. This one was boxy and white, a windowless white van that looked like it could swallow someone whole without a second thought.

“Hey! Hey you, mind giving me a hand with something!” called out a cleaner, stepping out of one of the blocky houses two doors down from Liam.

“Sure thing, sir,” sighed Liam, shutting off whatever his mini-me was playing. He was of the opinion to give government workers a wide berth, and a cleaning crew being at housing units was an ill omen he would have preferred to avoid.

The cleaner was covered head to toe in a white uniform. White shoes, white gloves, and a white mask obscured anything personally identifiable about the man. The words “Cleaning Crew” were emblazoned upon the front and back of his white uniform in the same text as the van: bold, clearly visible and recognizable. He gestured for Liam to come over with a wave of his hand. Liam reluctantly followed, awkwardly stopping a few paces before the man.

“Did you happen to know who lived here?” asked the cleaner, gesturing towards the housing unit he’d come out of.

Liam peered inside the unit; it was in even worse condition than his own and stank fiercely even with nose clips. He parted his lips to respond.

“No sir.”

The cleaner stepped inside the unit and began rummaging through piles of trash and scattered possessions, “Do you have any idea if the owner had any health conditions, suicidal tendencies, or a history of drug abuse?”

“I don’t got a clue, what’s this all about?”

“Well, ‘cause of ‘em Union boys they got us cleaners workin’ overtime to make sure there’s nothin’ that’d make ‘em big wigs look like they can’t run a city proper. We gotta check on people unaccounted for and such. Well, turns out the owner of this place was a decayin’ corpse when I opened up the door. Real grisly sight, got ‘em in the back of the van now and gotta get this place cleaned out. Anyways, I’m ‘posed to write a report on it and a probable cause of death would be good to know.”

“Shouldn’t there be police or some sort of professionals for this sort of thing?”

“Too close to the port, it’d look bad. Better if it’s an inconspicuous cleaner. Besides, they don’t wanna waste resources on a case like this, the body was decomposing, poor bloke’s been dead a while and no one noticed, so no one’s gonna care if they do a proper investigation or not.”

“Huh. Somehow I’m not surprised,” replied Liam drily.

“Surely you’ve got to know somethin’ about whoever lived here! You do live here, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know anyone here.”

“I didn’t exactly wanna take a good look at the body, but they seemed like a young male, twenties maybe, somewhat emaciated, though that might just be ‘cause they were rottin’ away. That ring any bells?”

“No, it’s like I told you, never talked to anyone living here, barely seen anyone even.”

“It was pretty bad, they’d been dead at least a week, ‘prolly more. Did you ever notice a smell, hear someone yellin’, or a death cry? Anythin’ like that?”

Liam shivered, they were only two doors down from his own home. It made his skin crawl to think that someone could go dead and unnoticed for weeks so close by.

“No sir, nothing. I never heard anything, and this place doesn’t exactly smell great, and you know, I’ve got clips in most of the time.”

“Fair enough,” responded the cleaner whilst rummaging unprofessionally through the messy one room home for any clues, “it’s not like I’d be likely to notice if I were in your shoes either. But, I don’t wanna get chewed out for an unfinished report.”

Liam surveyed the place, it made him rather sick to think about. Surely the owner’s mini-me would’ve called for an ambulance when sensing a sudden cessation of vital signs. Surely it would have been monitored and reported somewhere, but that gave rise to a bone chilling thought, that nobody had cared enough to investigate or send help. The person had probably been poor if their life in a basic model of housing unit were any indication, but if the cleaner was right they’d also been young, and that was just awful to think about. It was easier not to think about such things, to avoid the thought that someone could die and no one would care, that their body had only been discovered because of an unrelated political event. It was easier to not dwell on the idea that if he were dying no one would call for help, that if he died no one would notice, that he would only be noticed when the taxmen or banks got frustrated with his lack of payment. It was easier to simply remain ignorant, to purposely ignore that notion that his only purpose and worth in the world could be to fill another man’s pockets.

“Woo-ho!” cheered the cleaner, triumphantly brandishing a discarded needle and vial dug up from the trash littering the floor, “Cause of death solved, drug overdose on…” he held the vial up to light and inspected it carefully, “...euphoria IX if my memory serves me right!” he rotated the vial about in his hands, “Still sealed too, might be good quality stuff! These overtime shifts finally paid off!” the cleaner said, slipping the vial into a pocket before seemingly remembering that Liam was there and attempting to blunt his glee, “Well—uh—you know, it’s good to have hard evidence, makes me—uh, um, look good to the boss, yeah.”

“You mind if I go? Gotta get up early for work tomorrow,” said Liam, wanting nothing more than to leave the place stained by the stench of death.

“Unless you happened to remember anything about the person living here, you’re free to go.”

Liam turned to go as the cleaner began unceremoniously throwing the dead man’s possessions into trash bags, slowly erasing any proof that there had ever been a person living there. Liam went into his home and promptly collapsed on his bed, but sleep would be a long time coming. He could hear it through the cardboard walls, the sprays, the disinfectants, the destruction of a man’s mark on the world.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that was Andrew’s fate, if his young coworker would be found dead one day from overdose and left to decompose. He wondered how long it would take for anyone to notice, if anyone would even care, or if he’d simply be looted and trashed. They were young, too young to deserve such a fate without any form of sympathy, without mourners, without grieving masses, without anyone bothering to notice what they were going through, without anyone bothering to help.