"You're doing a great job, Nick."

John's cart pulled up beside me, and the lean, balding man stepped out with a soft groan that was typical among middle-aged men. I tied off the last bag I had emptied from the trash cans and deposited it into the long tray of my own cart. The carts that the University had on site were nothing more than modified golf carts with the rear seats removed and a large tray installed for hauling rubbish and carrying tools. Mine was currently loaded up with half a dozen black trash bags from my rounds.

"Thanks, John," I said, wiping my hands clean on my grey...