Jakarta, August 26th 1967, 08:11 PM
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Servant
Molly, you are on, aren't you? You are. You must be. If not, Sir Death or Father will chew me up.
[Motorbike passing]
[Wooden door opened]
[Wooden door closed]
[Curtain sliding]
[25 seconds silence]
[Motorbike passing]
[14 seconds silence]
[Matchstick igniting]
[Cigarette burning]
Servant
Today I met Sir... Sir Gandaria. With his dog as well. He smiled often, though not as often as his laugh. Currently living along with his maid, Asri. His family went back to the country.
Morning walk, tea drinking, playing cards, talking like there was no tomorrow. It felt as if I was meeting an old friend. Despite knowing his face just today. If not for his infamy, I would be confused why The State doesn't want Sir Gandaria to stay in our motherland for long.
His case was an open secret, Molly. At least, for those who read the newspapers by Amangkurat. Well-hidden newspapers; could only be bought by certain kinds of people. Even could be bought for free at times. Whoever the journalist is, he knows the truth–and someone from the inside.
What was the case, Molly? Right. A grand-scale tax corruption. Akin to an Arabian sultan who gives gold to whoever. Unfortunately, that gold isn't given equally to whoever.
[Tobacco burning]
[Sighing]
[8 seconds silence]
Servant
At first, Molly, I thought I would be visiting a grand palace. Turned out it was just an ordinary house. I thought I would be seeing a dozen bodyguards. Turned out it was only a maid. I thought I would be stopped by my fellow soldiers. Turned out it was only a dog that preferred to lick calves instead of biting them. I thought I would be meeting someone fat, with a fancy suit and a cigar between his lips. Turned out it was just a thin man, with a saggy tank top and a cheap clove cigarette between his lips. I thought I would always be hearing maniacal laughter. Turned out they were just husky, warm laughs.
[13 seconds silence]
Servant
I know that I shouldn't ask about it further. But, Molly, is it really true that he is as evil as I heard? Or is it that evil hides under the pretense of good? Do, Sir Death, Father, and whoever out there, know that that was the kind of person Sir Gandaria is? I doubt they do, but it seems that they do for a long time.
My time is limited. Limited, to learn Sir Gandaria. His behaviors, what he does Wednesday morning, Thursday night, in church, at work. If I wanted to, I could just end my task in a month. No, I could just never meet him. Sir Death could follow his back on Saturday morning, as he walked Michael, and escort him to heaven. But, for some reason, before Death paid him a visit, a Father wanted a Servant to know him.
My gut is telling me that there are certain things I need to dig behind the tender smile of Gandaria. Perhaps an acquaintance with a know-how about that tax corruption. Perhaps a hidden silk road of gold under the belly of the nation. Perhaps a group of communists working together with him. But, my heart is sure that he's just an ordinary government official, who is working hard for his own family.
[6 seconds silence]
[Tobacco burning]
[Cigarette being put out]
Servant
But, Molly, nothing in this world can justify corruption. Stealing people's money for the sake of one's own family cannot be compromised by blaming little people. Little people are little exactly because of that. They chose to be little due to hopelessness, not because they merely want to get drunk or vandalize properties. Street singers do not go to school not because they are simply lazy, but because uniforms, books, shoes, all still need money. Even if they make education free, Gandaria does not have the right to accuse street singers as a lazy, drunken good-for-nothings.
[14 seconds silence]
[Collar rubbing]
Servant
Am I on the right path, Molly? Will the nation get better without officials like Gandaria? Is it true that people like him should be street vendors, or clergymen?
They should be, though. The streets built by tax money are only used by people with cars like him. The abundant people's money is being given back in the forms of rubbish public transportations, and schools as rubbish. If he didn't corrupt the tax money, the overabundance would be used to build buses as opulent as his car, and schools as warm as his smiles. I should not be led astray by vain good, Molly. I should not be led astray.
May I be on the right path. May I be, Molly. May I be.
Perhaps, it's time for me to pray.
[]
أنت تقرأ
As We Waited for the Servant: Forgive Me, Father, for I Will Sin
التاريخيةAt the end of the 70s, a year after the mass killing of communists in a Southeastern nation named Indonesia, a shadowy division from the military recruited a new soldier to be a spy.
