Today was the census collector's first day on the job. 'Census collector'. The prestige and sensibility of the word brought great joy to the census collector. He was much more accustomed to 'pen pusher', a dreadfully hurtful word in his eyes. The alliteration gave it a goofy and careless sound as his mouth reared back in apprehension, and left him on an unsatisfying open syllable. No. His title was one that pleased him as his tongue slid atop his upper jaw.
The census collector bounces in all directions as he mouths 'census collector' from the back of a dingy carriage. He found it odd that it was constructed of a chitinous material, but then again, he had never been in a carriage before.
He stared out the window, confronted by the sight outside. He had heard tales of great mountains and fields, yet all he saw was ground blanketed by mist as far as the eye can see. He looks down at the list of inhabitants he had been tasked with cataloging. He had been given a smaller list than the other collectors, but the census collector was determined to make the most of it.
CENSUS ROLL: 521ST ROUND
Name: Jäara Forser
Location: Unnamed
Age:
Occupation:
Immediate family:
Name: ᛃᚨᛚᛖ ᚨᚱᚠᚢᛊ
Location: ᚢᛟᚱᚺᚨᚱ
Age:
Occupation:
Immediate family:
Name: Unknown
Location: Unmarked Ruins
Age:
Occupation:
Immediate family:
Name: Terfus Arcer
Location: Raven
Age:
Occupation:
Immediate family:
"Excuse me, sir?" asked the census collector.
The insectile coachman turned around to face him. The census collector cringed as its feelers brushed up against his cheek, and its compound eyes glared at him. It uttered a chitter and tilted its head inquisitively.
"Uh, how much further?"
The coachman turned to face the door window. Nestled in the misted plains was a rinky-dink wooden shack. The census collector's eyes adjusted to the sight of architecture not planned years in advance.
The census collector stepped out of the carriage. The mist tickled him up to his thighs, and his excitement tickled him further. The boundless open plains made him feel unique. The shack sat on ostensibly sturdy walls, and looked incapable of holding more than three. He walked up to the door.
Knock knock kno-
On the third knock, the door came off its hinges. It fell to the ground, kicking up a sizeable amount of dust. The census collector's eyes met his interviewee's.
Jäara Forser looked lopsidedly at her houseguest. She was old and mad, covering herself with tatters and dust. Her shoulders twitched slightly, and her hands shook. Her ragged hair went to her shoulders, much of which sat in clumps on the floor.
"H- hello?"
Jäara let out a disconcerting cackle.
"Ahaha, the whiteshirt speaks!
He looks too frail to do so,
but what is it he seeks?
Amity, I hope. He's quite the beau…"
"Well, I- I'm here to interview you."
"He has come to speak
but what to say?
I do naught but reek,
all night, all day!"
"Well, I'm here to collect the census."
"Oh, what a wreck.
He's merely here to drone,
for quota and paycheck.
Why not make yourself known?"
"Sorry, no time. So, how old are you?"
"Older than the mist, my boy."
The census collector held a confused gaze. Jäara simply winked.
Age: 60+
"Occupation?"
"I guard the stars through the sky,
the worms through the ground.
I shall do so till I die,
or till my sister is found…"
Occupation: Conservationist
"You mentioned a sister, is that all?"
She nodded solemnly. Tears came to her eyes.
Immediate family: Unknown (Sibling)
"Okay, all done. Sorry I can't chat, I've really got to get- -"
Jäara bursts into tears, wailing excessively.
"Oh, how I wish for my sis,
out there all alone!
Together we were in such bliss,
now I'm left to bemoan…"
The crying became more violent, spraying spittle onto the census collector. He stood up and walked out of the shack. He thought to close the door behind him, before remembering that there was none to close.
