He stood, almost frothing with rage, staring down the lean, unimpressed commander.
“Actually,” said the fourth soldier, almost forgotten at the periphery of events, “it was probably a clerical error. There’s an absolutely vast number of people who fall under Mattrax’s purview, and every year there’s just a few people whose names don’t get ticked. It’s an inevitability of bureaucracy, I suppose.”
Both Will and the commanding officer turned hate-filled eyes on the soldier.
“So,” said Will, voice crackling with fire, “tick my fucking name then.”
“Oh.” The soldier looked profoundly uncomfortable. “Actually that’s not something we can do. Not our department at all. I mean you can appeal, but first you have to pay the tax a second time, and then appeal.”
“Pay the tax?” Will said, the room losing focus for him, a strange sense of unreality descending. “I can’t pay the fucking tax a second time. Nobody here could afford that. That’s insane.”
“Yes,” said the guard sadly. “It’s not a very fair system.”
Will felt as if the edges of the room had become untethered from reality, as if the whole scene might fold up around him, wither away to nothingness, leaving him alone in a black void of insanity.
“Willett Altior Fallows,” intoned the lead soldier, with a degree of blandness only achievable through years of honing his callousness to the bluntest of edges, “I hereby strip you of your title to this land in recompense for taxes not paid. You shall be taken from here directly to debtors’ jail.”
“Oh debtors’ jail,” said the fourth guard, slapping a palm to his forehead. “I totally forgot about debtors’ jail. Because,” he added, nodding to himself, “it’s not as if you can appeal the ruling while you’re in the jail. Nobody’s going to come down and listen to you down there. But when you get out, you can totally appeal. I think the queue is only four or five years long at that point. Though, honestly, I would have expected it to be shorter given the fairly high mortality rate among inmates in debtors’ jail…” he trailed off. “Don’t suppose that’s very helpful, is it?” he said to the room at large.
Will could barely hear him. This could not be happening. Every careful financial plan he had put together. Every future course he had plotted. Each one of them ruined, ground beneath the twin heels of incompetence and greed, became nothing more than kindling for his fury. Rage roared around him, filled his ears with noise, his vision with red.