Jaroslav: Pt 1

They gave me a name and a number when I started training for the job they thought I was best suited for.

“Aðalbjörg-683!”

I soundly ignored them. Aðalbjörg-683 was not my name. They called again. I ignored it again.

“You!”

They pointed at me. I turned in surprise.

“Yes?” I innocently asked.

“This is your first day on the job. You’d better be listening to me.”

“Whatever for?”

After watching me in school and evaluating my personality, they thought I would be best suited for tax collecting. Yes, I know. Theoretically, there are no taxes here, but they taught me the trick on how to do it. Ever notice how bank robberies are so high? Everyone is so happy that there are no taxes, but everyone has been robbed many times throughout their entire life. I do the robbing. Once the government has the tax money, they fund themselves and start unions and social programs.

My teacher was reiterating that I needed to keep random objects in my pocket so I could halt any heroic citizens trying to stop me. I pulled a sitar out of my pocket and showed him, and then put it back.

“Good, even I wasn’t expecting that.”

It was tax collection day and I was assisting a master tax collector named Kollsveinn-256. This guy had drunk the kool-aid and was asking for more.

“Remember; always watch out for Resistance members. They like to disrupt us when we are collecting taxes. Do you have your badge?”

“Já.” I said feeling my pockets for that rectangular thing.

Today we were conducting a frontal assault. Basically, we walk in brandishing a sitar and No2 pencil and demand the predetermined amount from the teller. She was informed before hand as to how much she was supposed to give us from each person.

So that’s what we did. We burst into the bank, me with my sitar and him with his pencil. Everyone stopped and stared at us in bewilderment.

“Everyone on the floor; don’t try anything!” Kollsveinn-256 yelled at the patrons.

I stood blocking the front door with my sitar. Kollsveinn-256 walked around the multitude of cowering people and threw a duffel bag onto the counter.

“You know the amount.” He told the teller.

She sighed and put the allotted amount from each person who used the bank into the bag.

Kollsveinn-256 smiled and winked at her. “Takk fyrir, m’ dear.”

He turned around with the duffel bag and began to walk back to me. That was when one of the bank patrons jumped up behind Kollsveinn-256 and raised a knife.

Kollsveinn-256 saw the reflection in my glasses and slammed his pencil eraser into the man’s forehead and dragged it across his skin. The man had a nasty eraser burn on his forehead. He felt it with his finger then collapsed into a pile of eraser dust.

Everybody screamed.

Kollsveinn-256 put the pencil back behind his ear. He passed me and said, “That resister has been erased.”

I turned around in disbelief and followed him out. Once outside, we were surrounded by the Police.

“Drop your, er, weapons and put your hands on your head.”

Kollsveinn-256 pulled his badge out and showed it to them.

“Kollsveinn-256, tax collector. Let us pass.”

The Police pointed their guns at me now. I fumbled for my badge and pulled it out.

“I’m Jaroslav, tax collector.”

“What’s your number?”

“Don’t have one.”

Kollsveinn-256 put his hand up. “Her name is Aðalbjörg-683. Jaroslav is just a nickname. She’s with me. Let us pass.”

They did, and we got into our getaway car.

“My name is not Aðalbjörg-683, it’s Jaroslav.”

Kollsveinn-256 looked at me sternly. “If you don’t use your government-given name you’ll be accused of resisting and you will be erased.”

“My real name that my parents gave me is Jaroslav!”


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