wondered, and as if the woman at the authority could hear my thoughts, she went on in a rather strict tone of voice: “I’m so fed up of hearing people say they didn’t know anything. We’ve run several online campaigns over the past year, we’ve had ads in the papers and handed out information leaflets at schools and workplaces. You’ll have to be a bit more observant in the staff room or cafeteria next time.”
“The staff room?”
“Yes, that’s usually where the notices get put up. About things like this.”
“But,” I said, pulling my hand out of the light, “there’s absolutely no way I can pay.”
She was completely quiet for a while.
“No?”
I considered the meager income from my part-time job in the video shop. The little that was left over from my wages, which were paid partly cash in hand, plus a small inheritance that was gradually shrinking, made up the sum total of my savings.
On the other hand, I’d never had any particularly large expenses. My apartment was small and old-fashioned, and the rent was low. I had no one but myself to support, and I didn’t have a lavish lifestyle. A few computer games every now and then, music, a bit of food, hardly any phone bill to speak of, and I got films free from the shop. Sometimes I would pay for a beer or lunch for Roger, but that didn’t happen often these days. I always imagined I was free of extra financial responsibilities of that sort. Other people had careers and acquired houses and families and children. Got married, divorced, started their own businesses and set up limited companies. Employed accountants, bought property, leased cars, borrowed money. I was pretty happy on my own, without a big social circle, or anyone to cause any problems.
“It’s completely impossible,” I said. “At most, I’ve got about forty thousand in the bank.”
“What about your apartment?” she said.
“Rented.”
She said nothing for a moment. Then she said abruptly: “Hold on a moment and I’ll check…”
She put the phone down and I heard her walk away. In the background there was the sound of keyboards being tapped, other people who seemed to be talking on the phone. A couple of telephones ringing. She was gone for some time. Eventually I heard her come back and pick up the phone again.
“Do you own anything of value?”
“Er, no…the television, maybe.”
“Hmm,” she said, “television sets aren’t worth anything these days. Is it big?”
“Thirty-two inches, maybe.”
“Forget it. That’s nothing. No car?”
“No.”
“I see,” she said, and sighed. “You’ll have to pay what you can. Then we’ll start with an inventory of your home and see what that comes up with. That will give us an idea of what level of debt we’re going to end up at…”
“And what happens then?”
“That depends entirely on the amount.”
“In what way?”
“Well, we do have a debt ceiling.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means we can only permit debts up to a certain limit…I mean, in order to maintain continued access…”
“To what?”
“To…everything.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
She laughed. It was evidently a stupid question and I felt rather relieved at her reaction.
“No,” she said, “we aren’t going to kill you. But I’m sure you can appreciate that you can’t carry on enjoying experiences if you don’t have the means to pay for them?”
I held my hand out toward the shaft of light again and felt the heat of the sun. There really was a big difference in temperature, even though it was actually only a matter of a few centimeters. The woman at the other end of the line interrupted my thoughts.
“What on earth have you been thinking? All these years? Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that you should be paying your way?”
“Well, I didn’t actually know that we had to pay. Why—?”
She interrupted me again. She had obviously heard all this before. She knew it wasn’t going to lead