I am tired to being sick all the time. I wished I could stay healthy forever, or at the very least until the day I die. Now I had problems breathing and because of my flu-like allergies, people always looked at me suspiciously, as though I was patient zero for some heretofore unknown influenza strain.
I looked at my face in the mirror. Red nose, bulging eyes, swollen face – no wonder people veered away at my approach. I tried so hard to stay healthy. I exercised, took vitamins and watched every mouthful I take carefully, yet nothing worked.
Most probably because my problem was due to the one thing I had no control over, and that was the smoke pollution at the place I was staying in. The area was so dense with people that every part of the day produced its own smell. Cooking food from every home at almost all times of the day, diesel smoke in the mornings, afternoons and evenings and finally, when the whole neighborhood settled down to sleep, the smell of the drains and rubbish bins would fill the air, most times co-mingling with the smell of unwashed bodies.
One day, as I tried to read the newspaper while grunting mindless responses to my mom who was frying rice and complaining about the neighbors at the same time, I saw an advertisement looking for volunteers. That of course perked my interest immediately, because living in a city filled with materialistic, status conscious matriarchs, volunteering is the last thing in the world that people like me were brought up to believe in. As a matter of fact, mom believed that everyone in her life has a purpose to serve her. Even the gods she worshipped each had their own purpose and if any didn’t give her what she desired, she would clear up the altar and tell her circle of friends about its uselessness, then buy a new deity to burn joss sticks and to offer food to.
After checking to make sure that mom was too busy at the sink to peek over my shoulder, I read the details of the advertisement.
VOLUNTEERS NEEDED
The city needs to be cleaned and we are looking for enthusiastic volunteers to take part in the project.
Food and drinks will be provided. Depending on the number of volunteers, the project may take two days to a week for each residential area.
Please call for further details.
I keyed in the number into my mobile phone and saved it. When I called later that day, the line was busy for the first and second tries. I only got through on the third call.
“Hello. This is Carol,” a friendly voice said, “May I help you?”
“I am calling about the ad you put in the paper?”
“The one about volunteer work?”
“Yes, that’s the one. I was wondering what kind of cleaning work you are planning.”
“Well, with the lack of land for housing development, the city is beginning to experience a lot of congestion. Especially in areas that are meant to keep our air clean.”
“You mean the parks?”
“And the filtered sidewalks,” she added. “But now, all these critical areas are being filled by homeless people.”
“Oh. What do you plan to do then?”
“Most of these people have addiction and psychological issues anyway, so we thought of sending them to rehabilitation centers where they will be cleaned up and given jobs. That way they can start contributing to society again.”
“But what if they don’t want to? I mean, if they had wanted to contribute, they would have had jobs by now,” I said, parroting the controversial accusations of the current governor.
“Since most of those who don’t want a second chance are suicidal, we will give them an option to donate their organs before helping them end their life.”
“You can do that?!”
“We can now. The Senate has just approved the Euthanasia Bill.”
A little tentatively, I asked, “So, what is a volunteer suppose to do?”
“These homeless people are so addicted to their way of life they don’t want to get cleaned. So your job would be to assist them into the transports we provide. If you are interested, you can come to a briefing tomorrow night. Bring a few friends along. It is always more fun if you have friends.”
I said I will and she told me the time and venue of the meeting. When I arrived at the hotel the following day with two other curious colleagues, the sign outside told us to go to the largest banquet hall, and once inside, I learned that over four hundred people had turned up. Except for a handful of troublemakers, almost all of us signed up for the job.
And what a job it was. It even made international headlines, and being a new concept, it was generally criticized. However, there were some who agreed, including my mother who was so proud I took part in the Big Cleanup.
In under a month, the park near our home was clean and safe again. The sidewalks shone and smelled wonderful. Even the water in the drains along the streets turned crystal clear. Everything was perfect. The organizer of the Big Cleanup was right too about the homeless people we tried to help. After going through an intensive rehab process that was paid with taxpayers’ money, 80% of them opted for assisted suicide. Their choice was not a total waste though because a large number of contributing citizens could now live healthier and more comfortable lives.
The result of the Big Cleanup was so positive that many countries took up the program, and soon it began to expand across borders. After all, leaders who lead their countries into economic collapse should never be allowed to continue leading.
Now, the world is a cleaner place and the quality of our lives are far better than ever before. Even the environment of the place I work in is much improved because management has been given more liberties to let go of employees whom they felt are not contributing as much as another colleague of equal qualification. I am not worried for them, because even if they do lose their homes, they can always go to the Workers’ Farm where they could get food and lodging in exchange for their labors. Their children will also get free education and health care there. The most wonderful change, however, is the one for my body. I have a new set of lungs that a perfectly healthy homeless person had donated, and soon I will get a new kidney.
Read more short stories.
Custom SearchNo part of this article may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system for commercial purposes, without permission in writing from the author. Please keep my copyright statement and e-mail contact in the body of the copy if you distribute this out for non-commercial reasons.