Balkan Peninsula -- Fiction; Political fiction; Science fiction
"Um-m-m," Kardelj said placatingly. "However, he failed to respond to
the warnings of our agriculturists who have studied widely in the
West. It seems as though the balance of nature calls for the presence
of wildlife, and particularly birds. The increase in destructive
insects has more than counterbalanced the amount of cereals the birds
once consumed. Ah, Zoran," he said with a wry smile, "I would suggest
we find another position for Comrade Crvenkovski."
* * * * *
The secretary-receptionist looked up at long last at the very average
looking young man before him. "Yes," he said impatiently.
The stranger said, "I would like to see Comrade Broz."
"Surely you must realize that the Commissar is one of the busiest men
in Transbalkania, Comrade." There was mocking sneer in the tone. "His
time is not at the disposal of every citizen."
The newcomer looked at the petty authority thoughtfully. "Do you so
address everyone that enters this office?" he asked mildly.
The other stared at him flabbergasted. He suddenly banged upon a
button on the desk.
When the security guard responded to the summons, he gestured curtly
with his head at the newcomer. "Throw this fool out, Petar," he
rapped.
Josip Pekic shook his head, almost sadly. "No," he said. "Throw _this_
man out." He pointed at the secretary-receptionist.
The guard called Petar blinked at each of them in turn.
Josip brought forth his wallet, fidgeted a moment with the contents,
then flashed his credentials. "State expediter," he said nervously.
"Under direct authority of Comrade Zoran Jankez." He looked at the
suddenly terrified receptionist. "I don't know what alternative work
we can find to fit your talents. However, if I ever again hear of you
holding down a position in which you meet the public, I will ... will,
ah, see you imprisoned."
The other scurried from the room before Josip thought of more to say.
Josip Pekic looked at the guard for a long moment. He said finally,
unhappy still, "What are you needed for around here?"
"Why yes, Comrade. I am the security guard."
Petar, obviously no brain at the best, was taken aback.
"You didn't answer my question." Josip's hands were jittering so he
jammed them into his pockets.
Petar had to think back to remember the wording of the question in
question. Finally he came up triumphantly with, "Yes, Comrade. I guard
Comrade Broz and the others from assassins. I am armed." He proudly
displayed the Mikoyan Noiseless which he had holstered under his left
shoulder.
Josip said, "Go back to your superior and inform him that I say you
are superfluous on this assignment. No longer are commissars
automatically to be guarded. Only under special circumstances. If ...
well, if our people dislike individual commissars sufficiently to wish
to assassinate them, maybe they need assassination."
Petar stared at him.
"Oh, get out," Josip said, with attempted sharpness. But then, "What
door leads to Comrade Broz's office?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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