"No," answered Carrowick, "the Poors have to carry it to appointed garbage dumps themselves. They let it pile up until even they can't stand it, then they usually get rid of some of it."
He went on to explain that in all the cities, except in Poor villages, all garbage recepticles led to giant underground incinerators. Here the fires burned continually. But in the hot weather, the heat from these fires was used as power to run an underground air conditioner, so that all the streets were cooled. In the wintertime, of course, these same fires warmed the cities and highways.
As they walked, they were both aware of the many Poors scrounging and searching in the debris. They were also aware of the silence that fell as they neared groups of people. The Poors just stared at them, and talked excitedly when they were out of earshot.
"They're not used to seeing any of us in their villages," remarked Carrowick.
Kramvit smiled, somewhat bitterly, it seemed to Carrowick, "No, I shouldn't think they would be."
As they rounded a corner, Kramvit pointed to a car parked about a hundred feet away. It was almost leaning against a broken down shack, and was so dirty that it was impossible to make out its color.
"How did that get here, Vincent? Surely, nobody here can afford a car."
Carrowick laughed, "No, they can't. That happens to be this year's Sputzmobile, one of our most expensive cars. Although you wouldn't know it from the looks of that one. They are given as consolation prizes to losers on almost all the larger Qua shows."
"I see. Why don't those people sell the cars? It seems to me they could use the money."
"I guess they could," answered Carrowick. "But to whom could they sell it? Very few of us ever buy a second hand car. We all change our cars as soon as the new ones appear. Anyway, most of the losers want to keep them; they consider it a mark of distinction."