POISON SPRAY

10:00

 

Finally, Olga heard the locks rattle, and then distant footsteps, and then silence. It was safe to come out.

She pushed aside the giant bundles of toilet paper, revealing her hiding place on the supermarket shelf. Her legs were cramped—she’d been curled into a ball for half an hour. Now she could finally unfold and stretch.

Everyone had expected Olga to chicken out, but Olga never refused a dare. No matter how tough the challenge, the thought of admitting she couldn’t do it was always tougher. Even after the exploding asteroid, she hadn’t wanted to postpone. She’d already told her parents she was sleeping over at Heidi’s place.

And besides, being in an empty supermarket at night might frighten other kids, but Olga had no reason to fear the darkness.

She felt her way to the end of the aisle and turned right. She’d shopped here with her family hundreds of times, so she knew the layout. Right now she was passing aisle eight— she could sense the rolls of paper towel soaking up the sound of her footsteps. Then there was aisle seven, which contained water bottles and snacks. Soon she reached aisle six, where the canned goods were. What she needed was sticky tape, which was in aisle five.

09:25

Olga’s shoes squeaked on the linoleum, the echoes giving her a sense of the space. Other kids sometimes asked if it was scary, being blind. ‘I fear nothing,’ she always told them dramatically. She’d noticed that kids who could see didn’t listen. They never noticed the sounds of teachers approaching across the playground. They didn’t use their other senses, either. One time, there was a gas leak in the science lab, and Olga was the only one who smelled it. If not for her, everyone would be dead, or so she told them every week or so.

She pulled an old bedsheet out of her backpack. Heidi had painted the words ‘NO MORE TOXINS’ on it, and snipped one corner so Olga would know which way up to hang it.

Beep. Olga paused, mid-step. What was that?

She turned around, listening, but there were no more beeps. Heidi had said the supermarket didn’t have an alarm system. But had that been a trick? Heidi loved getting her into trouble.

08:08

Now Olga could hear a whirring sound. Like a vacuum cleaner, but quieter. Coming from—she tilted her head— aisle four, or maybe five.

She put down the bedsheet and edged closer, hoping to identify the sound. It seemed to be in aisle three now. Whatever it was, it was moving.

07:10

Suddenly she realised what it must be: the cleaning robot. She’d never seen it, but Dad had described it to her—a white tower, about two metres tall, sensors on all sides. It would slowly traverse the aisles, looking for spills to clean.

The robot was the reason her family had stopped shopping here. The cleaners had complained that the chemicals were too toxic to work with. They caused skin irritation, and were linked to cancer. Instead of replacing the chemicals, the supermarket had replaced the cleaners with this robot. Dad had insisted they switch to a different supermarket after that.

Olga didn’t like the idea of taping the bedsheet to the window with the robot roaming the store. The robot might snag the sheet and pull it down before anyone saw the message. Or it might sneak up on Olga and knock her over, or roll over her foot and crush her toes. Plenty of ‘safe’ technologies relied on people to see them and get out of the way.

Maybe she could turn it off. She walked up to aisle three. The whirring got suddenly louder—there were no longer any shelves between her and the machine. She didn’t have line of sight, but she had line of sound.

06:39

The robot was moving slowly towards her. She held out both hands as she approached it, wondering how she’d find the switch or button.

The robot made a hissing sound. Like a snake, warning her not to come any closer. Olga ignored it. The robot was probably just spraying something—

And then the odour reached her and she leapt back. That robot was using some seriously harsh chemicals. Even at this distance, the smell burned Olga’s nostrils and made her eyes itch. No wonder the cleaners hadn’t wanted to work with that stuff. She couldn’t fumble around looking for an off switch. The robot might squirt her right in the face.

She retreated back to aisle six, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to spend all night circling the store, trying to avoid the robot.

05:14

Suddenly the air-conditioning came on, the fans at full blast.

Olga hugged herself in the sudden chill. What was happening? She’d heard the asteroid had messed with the electrical grid—maybe that had reset the automatic timers on both the robot and the air-con. For all she knew, the lights were on, too.

The fans were a problem, and not just because she wasn’t dressed for the cold. They were too loud. She couldn’t hear the robot anymore. It might be anywhere. Maybe it was approaching her right now, ready to spray her with toxic chemicals.

04:05

There was another hiss from somewhere nearby. The robot seemed to spray automatically every few seconds. Olga backed away and bumped into a shelf. Cans rattled behind her. She hadn’t known the shelf was there. With the fans roaring, she couldn’t echolocate. The noise was like a fog around her, obscuring everything.

Now she felt the first flickers of fear. Could she find the sticky tape and hang up the bedsheet without bumping into the robot? Even if she gave up on that plan, could she make her way to the fire exit and escape without getting sprayed on the way?

If she couldn’t use her ears, she would have to use her skin. She spread her arms wide so she could feel the air currents. The shape of the breeze revealed that a pillar was just behind her and that the shelves on the left were taller than those on the right. She knew where she was. She could do this.

03:03

Olga grabbed two cans off the shelf. When she shook them, one felt like spaghetti, while the other felt like some kind of tinned fruit. They would do. She crept towards aisle five—electricals—with one arm shielding her face, in case the robot came out of nowhere and sprayed her with poison.

In aisle five, she felt her way across the batteries and flash drives, and soon found an extension cord. Olga tore through the paper ribbon and unravelled the cord. She tied a can to each end, then shelved the two cans on opposite sides of the aisle, so the cord hung between them, like a loose tripwire.

It wouldn’t stop the robot. But that wasn’t the point.

Covering her face again, Olga hurried towards the corner of the store, where she knew there was a charging point for the robot. This was where it had started, so it wouldn’t come back this way—at least not for a while.

She listened to the drone of the air conditioner. She couldn’t hear the robot yet. She felt her way across the charging port. Maybe there would be a switch, so she could turn the robot off remotely. But no, the plastic was smooth and featureless.

She waited. And waited. And waited some more. And then—

Clang! She heard the cans fall. The robot had rolled through her tripwire. The metal rattled noisily along the floor, dragged by the extension cord wrapped around the robot, like cans behind a bridal car.

Now she would hear it coming, even over the air conditioner. She could fight back.

02:10

She moved like a panther, stalking through the supermarket towards the sound of the bouncing cans. The robot was just around this corner. But she had to wait for the hissing sound; for the chemical that was sprayed every few seconds. She had to time this exactly right.

Heart pounding, she prepared to pounce—

Hiss. Now!

She charged forward, arms outstretched, hoping there wasn’t a pillar she hadn’t sensed or something she might trip on. One step, two, and then she slammed into the robot with all her weight.

The robot toppled, rubber treads losing their grip, and then crashed to the linoleum. Olga came down with it. Before she even hit the floor, she was celebrating. It couldn’t follow her now, and wouldn’t tear down her bedsheet. It would just lie here, whirring, until someone found it tomorrow—

01:41

Hiss. A veil of toxic mist settled on her face.

No! She almost screamed, but stopped herself just in time. The fluid was already burning her skin. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelids stung, like she’d been pepper-sprayed. If she opened her mouth or even took a breath, it would scorch her throat and lungs.

Frantically, she scrambled to her feet. She had to wash the fluid off her face before she ran out of air.

She dashed out of aisle five, arms outstretched, straining to hear her own footsteps. If she got lost, she was finished. The chemicals could do permanent damage to her nose and mouth, taking away two more of her senses.

Olga turned left. She ran past aisle six, then into aisle seven, her feet slipping on the freshly polished tiles. She could feel the shelves whooshing past and forced herself to count her steps. Three, two, one—

She stopped and stuck out her hand. There they were— the water bottles. She grabbed one, cracked the seal, and unscrewed the lid. Then she raised her face to the sky and upended the bottle.

Cold water splashed down over her face, washing the poison away. The chemical burns soon cooled, but Olga kept pouring until all the water was gone. She grabbed a second bottle with her slippery hands and emptied that over her head, too.

Only then did she allow herself to breathe. Her lungs didn’t hurt. She blinked. Her eyes didn’t sting. She was OK.

She turned ninety degrees. She couldn’t see the fire door, but she knew it was there, right in front of her. It was time to leave.

But she didn’t. Not because she was fearless, not because she never refused a dare, and not because she wanted to prove to everyone how capable she was. She stayed because, now more than ever, she wanted to support those cleaners. That cleaning chemical was horrible. No-one should have to work with it.

00:00

So Olga went back to the bedsheet, gathered it up, and resumed her search for sticky tape.