For some truly risk-loving individuals, the scrounge never left. The Commandments may have been stripped from the Commons wall, the table covered in half-eaten sandwiches and picked-at bowls of rice may have been cleaned and folded and packed away, but for some, the spirit of the Scrounge has remained. Despite the plague risk, the spinning dish-whisker presents not so tall of a barrier that a determined and dauntless individual, confident in their constitution, can still eat for free.
“It’s still the Scrounge if you’re fast enough:” a bottom-feeder mantra that helps to ease the food budgets of the few who remember the old days. But it’s clear: the memory of the once-celebrated institution is fading.
Bring back the Scrounge! It would be deeply more sanitary if people could sort the food they sneezed on out of the hungry mouths of would-be-Scroungers. If you are scared of disease, pay for your food. Consider the boon your uneaten slice of pizza may be to the unlucky Commons dweller who forgot their wallet.