Radilo
Establishing Nation
Nuovo Porto, 12th Quartiere
about 21:00 on a Thursday
Since a rather expedient encounter with immigration services after migrating to La Serenissima from Himyar last year, Amahle Abebe, had had two interactions with the government. The first was when she had a toothache and used her new dental insurance card to get her cavity filled at a public dentist's office. The second, which she was currently experiencing, was much more involved. After getting off of her shift as a waitress, two officers from La Gendarmeria Civica stopped her and, after confirming her identity, asked her to get into their car.
"So, am I under arrest?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, you are being detained," one of the officers responded.
"Is there a difference?"
"Legally, yes. But practically... no," said the other officer.
"Why am I being detained?"
"There was an inconsistency with your most recent tax filing, we wanted to clear that up."
"So you're arresting me for a problem with my tax filing."
"Detaining you, it's a civil matter, not a criminal one."
"So you're detaining me to...?"
"Address a discrepancy... ma'am. It should not be a major concern. I can't speak to everything, but you probably owe a small amount of money. But one of the Magistrati will be able to provide you with more information."
While neither officer was ever particularly threatening, Amahle understood that she really didn't have much of a choice except getting into their car. It wasn't like squad cars she had seen elsewhere; the back seat wasn't at all like a cage... just a regular back seat. In fact, the car didn't really seem to be much of a police car--just a regular crown vic that was painted in La Civica's colors.
After a 10 minute awkward car ride, they arrived at one of the local government offices/police stations/Magistrati. The two officers escorted her inside. She was feeling a bit nervous, but the oddly nonchalant attituded of the officers was rather comforting. She had read enough history to know of the infamous dungeons of Radilana Antica, but she also had read of the almost aggressively polite modern bureaucracy. Like her time at immigration--they wanted to help you and they were in a hurry.
She was sat down opposite a young Magistrata, who must have been fresh out of law school. The two poliziotti stood behind her.
"Ms. Amahle Abebe?" the robed 20-something asked.
"Yes--am I in trouble?"
"No--we just need to clear some things up, we should be done fairly quickly, and you can be on your way. Can I have your ID and passport?"
"I only have my ID," said Amahle, reaching into her purse.
"That's fine," the Magistrata said, as she took the ID and clacked away for a few moments on the small laptop on her desk.
Amahle fidgeted nervously for a few moments as the clacking seemed ever more intense.
"It says here that you might not have reported some income in your most recent tax filings. Does that sound feasible?"
"I'm not sure... what would..."
"It says here you are a waitress, did you have any cash tips over the last few months?"
"Yes. Yes I had..."
"Were you always perfectly consistent with reporting them?"
"No... I wasn't... if they weren't filled out on the receipt they..."
"That's perfectly understandable Ms. Abebe. Mistakes get made. Did your total unreported income equal approximately 1,235 lire or 12.35 ducati over the last 12 month reporting period?"
"That sounds about right... but I'm not..."
"Okay, thank you. Unfortunately Ms. Abebe, that means you have an outstanding tax bill of 157 lire or about 1.57 ducati. You can contest these charges in Corte Civile if you like, or if you want to you can just pay this off now, or in instalments."
"I... I... guess I'll pay it in instalments..."
"Very good, if you give me your banking card or a blank check, I can set up automatic payments for you. We have 3, 6, 12, and 24 month plans available, please note that there is a 3.2% interest rate on instalments, so it does save you a bit of money to pay it off sooner."
"I guess I'll pay over 3 months," she said, handing over her debit card.
"Excellent. We will deduct 52 lire 95 denier of your account the first day of every month, unless that day is a Sunday or a holiday, then it will be the first business day there after, for the next three months, starting next month. Thank you, you are free to leave," she turned to the poliziotti, "please take Ms. Abebe home, please."
Amahle stood in front of her apartment building; the two poliziotti waved goodbye to her as they drove away. She glanced down at her phone. It was 21:40.
"This is an odd little country," she muttered to herself as she turned to go inside and pour herself a drink.
about 21:00 on a Thursday
Since a rather expedient encounter with immigration services after migrating to La Serenissima from Himyar last year, Amahle Abebe, had had two interactions with the government. The first was when she had a toothache and used her new dental insurance card to get her cavity filled at a public dentist's office. The second, which she was currently experiencing, was much more involved. After getting off of her shift as a waitress, two officers from La Gendarmeria Civica stopped her and, after confirming her identity, asked her to get into their car.
"So, am I under arrest?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, you are being detained," one of the officers responded.
"Is there a difference?"
"Legally, yes. But practically... no," said the other officer.
"Why am I being detained?"
"There was an inconsistency with your most recent tax filing, we wanted to clear that up."
"So you're arresting me for a problem with my tax filing."
"Detaining you, it's a civil matter, not a criminal one."
"So you're detaining me to...?"
"Address a discrepancy... ma'am. It should not be a major concern. I can't speak to everything, but you probably owe a small amount of money. But one of the Magistrati will be able to provide you with more information."
While neither officer was ever particularly threatening, Amahle understood that she really didn't have much of a choice except getting into their car. It wasn't like squad cars she had seen elsewhere; the back seat wasn't at all like a cage... just a regular back seat. In fact, the car didn't really seem to be much of a police car--just a regular crown vic that was painted in La Civica's colors.
After a 10 minute awkward car ride, they arrived at one of the local government offices/police stations/Magistrati. The two officers escorted her inside. She was feeling a bit nervous, but the oddly nonchalant attituded of the officers was rather comforting. She had read enough history to know of the infamous dungeons of Radilana Antica, but she also had read of the almost aggressively polite modern bureaucracy. Like her time at immigration--they wanted to help you and they were in a hurry.
She was sat down opposite a young Magistrata, who must have been fresh out of law school. The two poliziotti stood behind her.
"Ms. Amahle Abebe?" the robed 20-something asked.
"Yes--am I in trouble?"
"No--we just need to clear some things up, we should be done fairly quickly, and you can be on your way. Can I have your ID and passport?"
"I only have my ID," said Amahle, reaching into her purse.
"That's fine," the Magistrata said, as she took the ID and clacked away for a few moments on the small laptop on her desk.
Amahle fidgeted nervously for a few moments as the clacking seemed ever more intense.
"It says here that you might not have reported some income in your most recent tax filings. Does that sound feasible?"
"I'm not sure... what would..."
"It says here you are a waitress, did you have any cash tips over the last few months?"
"Yes. Yes I had..."
"Were you always perfectly consistent with reporting them?"
"No... I wasn't... if they weren't filled out on the receipt they..."
"That's perfectly understandable Ms. Abebe. Mistakes get made. Did your total unreported income equal approximately 1,235 lire or 12.35 ducati over the last 12 month reporting period?"
"That sounds about right... but I'm not..."
"Okay, thank you. Unfortunately Ms. Abebe, that means you have an outstanding tax bill of 157 lire or about 1.57 ducati. You can contest these charges in Corte Civile if you like, or if you want to you can just pay this off now, or in instalments."
"I... I... guess I'll pay it in instalments..."
"Very good, if you give me your banking card or a blank check, I can set up automatic payments for you. We have 3, 6, 12, and 24 month plans available, please note that there is a 3.2% interest rate on instalments, so it does save you a bit of money to pay it off sooner."
"I guess I'll pay over 3 months," she said, handing over her debit card.
"Excellent. We will deduct 52 lire 95 denier of your account the first day of every month, unless that day is a Sunday or a holiday, then it will be the first business day there after, for the next three months, starting next month. Thank you, you are free to leave," she turned to the poliziotti, "please take Ms. Abebe home, please."
Amahle stood in front of her apartment building; the two poliziotti waved goodbye to her as they drove away. She glanced down at her phone. It was 21:40.
"This is an odd little country," she muttered to herself as she turned to go inside and pour herself a drink.
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