Litter Picking Drone
It was 7 pm. Zach was driving home late from the office when he felt a buzzing around his ankle. “Oh shit,” he thought, suddenly realising where he was.
The buzz came from the ankle monitor clamped just above his left foot. Its bulky frame housed a GPS tracker, activated as he drove through the industrial estate a mile from home.
The monitor was sealed with a steel padlock. The key was held by an anonymous guy that Zach had been chatting with online. Their conversations had started with fantasies about manual labourers and tradesmen, and Zach had shared his obsession with work gear, hi-vis polos, and boots.
Over weeks, each fantasy had grown more elaborate. Zach had eventually agreed to a daring proposal in real life.
Then the package arrived: a GPS ankle monitor with a padlock and a “compliance collar.” Instructions were clear. The ankle monitor was to be worn 24/7, hidden under baggy trousers if needed. The collar, thick and rigid with two metal probes, locked instantly when fastened and could only be released remotely. It was bulky and impractical for continuous wear, but designed to enforce obedience until a task was completed.
The faint buzz of the ankle monitor turned into a sharp, insistent rattle. His phone vibrated with a message: “COLLAR REQUIRED.” Zach knew he had 60 seconds to put it on before the ankle monitor emitted an ear-piercing alarm — attention he did not want.
He pulled over, scrambled through his bag, and fastened the collar around his neck. The magnetic clasp clicked securely into place. It wasn’t suffocating, but removal was impossible without the remote release. The collar pressed beneath his work shirt.
Another buzz. New instructions: “Put on hi-vis. Pick up litter. Five bags. Photo evidence.”
Short. Direct. Consequences unspoken but understood.
Zach opened the boot of his car. Hi-vis polos, work boots, and litter picking gear waited. He stripped off his shirt and threw on a bright orange hi-vis polo. He’d chosen chunky-collared designs specifically to disguise the compliance collar beneath. Buttoning it to the top, he felt the fabric snug over the collar, locking him further into the ritual.
The ankle monitor was easy to conceal under thick socks and sturdy work boots. Once secured, it seemed almost dormant again.
He grabbed the cheap litter picker in one hand, the blue hoop and bin bag dangling from the other. Gloves protected him from the dubious liquids inside discarded cans and bottles.
The world narrowed. His attention focused solely on the next piece of litter: a crushed Coke can, a faded crisp packet, an old water bottle half-filled with stale, yellow liquid.
Bending for the next piece of litter, the collar shifted slightly, pressing against his skin like a tether.
A lorry roared past, another hi-vis-clad worker behind the wheel. A coffee cup flew out the window, splashing Zach’s clean hi-vis. He barely flinched. The liquid glistened as the street light caught the reflective stripes of his polo.
Time slowed. Thirty minutes in, he had filled three bags when a tingling at his neck reminded him: the collar was ready to deliver a jolt if he didn’t maintain his pace. Heart racing, he moved faster, filling a fourth bag in just seven minutes.
Boots crunched over gravel as he moved through rows of warehouses. Every sweep, every step toward the next piece of litter heightened his awareness of the collar beneath his polo.
Finally, the weight of the last bag caused it to slip through the hoop and crash onto the ground. Zach tied it up and tossed it with the others. He pulled out his phone and snapped evidence of his work, sweat dripping from his forehead, his polo damp with effort. Musky and stinking.
Photo sent.
A soft click at the back of his neck signaled release. He yanked the collar off and tossed it onto the passenger seat.
Relief washed over him — but so did a rush of thrill. The forced compliance had been intoxicating. He kept the hi-vis polo on as a reminder of the evening’s work, though unease lingered. The estate looked the same. The hi-vis felt heavier. And the next trigger zone was always waiting.
