0001, 01 January 2021
Kaliga, Kurkhazia
Nazar Sytnyk sat down alone in a wide room full of empty chairs and cold space, using the time alone to set out a notepad, pencil, and to deposit a pouch of Austwegian snus in his lower lip. The latter was a vice that only he and lonely midnight shop keeps knew of, while familiar friends and even lovers thought of him as a saint separate from all vice. That pocket of nicotine activated as federal officers flooded in like a slow spill from a neck gouged stallion. Each one whined or barked their dismay for being ordered into work in the soon aftermath of Kurkhazia's longest holiday weekend.
The noise of fireworks rattled the windows of their meeting room, a square hall set aside for rhythmic gymnastics and judo. Blood and glitter speckled the vinyl mat that just around a hundred men and women shuffled over to the grouchy bark of this year's lottery selected 'Kurultai Commissar'.
"I WILL NOT WASTE YOUR HOLIDAYS IF YOU DO NOT WASTE MINE!!!" the potbellied imp appealed, to which most relaxed in murmured protests.
Nazar found himself surrounded by two outlanders from Izeria, the mountainous region of that held Kurkhazia's tiny year trading keyhole to the east. A male who wore a sheep fur hat on his head communicated to a burka clad woman on his right.
"Excuse me!" Nazar demanded in their regional tongue, just one of five phrases he knew from there, to which both of their eyes darted. "I'm here for a purpose and I hope you are for the same."
The Izerians nodded quietly as the hundred around them continued to whinge until the Kurultai Commissar cowed them into silence with a voice carrying metal cone.
Seats ripped and scratched through the gym's entirely specific floor, not befit for their purpose. "North, East, South, and West . . " the Commissar began, "Indeed, you were selected as law enforcement officers by way of lottery from each shi-well, you know, hole outside of Kaliga you've been stealing a living out of."
Uncomfortable laughs and jeers broke out while Nazar, one of only a few Kaliga officers reached out to the two outlanders surrounding him to draw them closer without words.
"All Kurkhazian votes are public, tied to their name . ." the Commissar lamented with a cough, "such is true democracy, and well . . you are all here tapped to ensure it's not fucked with . ." he said as the sea of randomly selected officers groaned as their seeming holiday was undercut by a useless mission.
"Where are they counted?!" Nazar asked in a shout, silencing the sidebar and peanut gallery for the first time.
"Why here," the Commissar answered with a sneer, "in Kaliga where we know what is best . . the voter rolls are brought here to compliment those immemorial . ."
Swears and demands for release rung out until the Commisar let out is one necessary order: "Go forth and document voter fraud, prevent voter intimidation, and prevent the failure of Kurkhazian democracy."
Kaliga, Kurkhazia
Nazar Sytnyk sat down alone in a wide room full of empty chairs and cold space, using the time alone to set out a notepad, pencil, and to deposit a pouch of Austwegian snus in his lower lip. The latter was a vice that only he and lonely midnight shop keeps knew of, while familiar friends and even lovers thought of him as a saint separate from all vice. That pocket of nicotine activated as federal officers flooded in like a slow spill from a neck gouged stallion. Each one whined or barked their dismay for being ordered into work in the soon aftermath of Kurkhazia's longest holiday weekend.
The noise of fireworks rattled the windows of their meeting room, a square hall set aside for rhythmic gymnastics and judo. Blood and glitter speckled the vinyl mat that just around a hundred men and women shuffled over to the grouchy bark of this year's lottery selected 'Kurultai Commissar'.
"I WILL NOT WASTE YOUR HOLIDAYS IF YOU DO NOT WASTE MINE!!!" the potbellied imp appealed, to which most relaxed in murmured protests.
Nazar found himself surrounded by two outlanders from Izeria, the mountainous region of that held Kurkhazia's tiny year trading keyhole to the east. A male who wore a sheep fur hat on his head communicated to a burka clad woman on his right.
"Excuse me!" Nazar demanded in their regional tongue, just one of five phrases he knew from there, to which both of their eyes darted. "I'm here for a purpose and I hope you are for the same."
The Izerians nodded quietly as the hundred around them continued to whinge until the Kurultai Commissar cowed them into silence with a voice carrying metal cone.
Seats ripped and scratched through the gym's entirely specific floor, not befit for their purpose. "North, East, South, and West . . " the Commissar began, "Indeed, you were selected as law enforcement officers by way of lottery from each shi-well, you know, hole outside of Kaliga you've been stealing a living out of."
Uncomfortable laughs and jeers broke out while Nazar, one of only a few Kaliga officers reached out to the two outlanders surrounding him to draw them closer without words.
"All Kurkhazian votes are public, tied to their name . ." the Commissar lamented with a cough, "such is true democracy, and well . . you are all here tapped to ensure it's not fucked with . ." he said as the sea of randomly selected officers groaned as their seeming holiday was undercut by a useless mission.
"Where are they counted?!" Nazar asked in a shout, silencing the sidebar and peanut gallery for the first time.
"Why here," the Commissar answered with a sneer, "in Kaliga where we know what is best . . the voter rolls are brought here to compliment those immemorial . ."
Swears and demands for release rung out until the Commisar let out is one necessary order: "Go forth and document voter fraud, prevent voter intimidation, and prevent the failure of Kurkhazian democracy."