Rama Taken Alive
Customs Officer Junior Grade David Lister knew his latest applicant was lying.
She was very young, most likely just barely twenty, and as pale white as himself. In her arms she carried a small infant, probably only a few months old. And the baby looked nothing like her, with its deep brown skin and what little dark hair it had. He had no doubt the baby was hers; what he doubted was her story.
"My name is Rama Taken Alive. This is my son, Tjolô Taken Alive. We are both Sioux descent."
Doubtful. Taken Alive was Native American all right, but no one had claimed Sioux heritage in thirty years. His databank already confirmed that their numbers had in fact died out ten years prior to even that. Whoever this
Rama was, she was just spouting off the first Indian name she could think of.
Should have tried Lakota, lady. Would've almost believed you, then...
Still, there was nothing he could do. Blood tests had been done away with nearly half a century ago. Virtually anyone claiming to be of some Native descent was allowed on the reservation. It wasn't like they didn't have the room. The Native American culture had been dying off over the last century. Back in the old days of the former U.S. people had turned a blind eye to their decaying civilization. Now that the World Order was in charge, they were just another culture being shunted to the back burners to be left there to die.
David typed the names into his console. There were no matches to any
Taken Alive's with criminal record, so he couldn't say no. If only the databanks allowed for a search on names in general. Sure they might not have a criminal record, but what good was that if the name was made up?
The computer beeped, and two ID cards printed. He took them, handing them over the counter to the woman.
"Your residence is in building block C, number 155."
The woman quickly took the ID cards, and hurried out the door. David barely had a chance to catch one last look at her before the next applicant stepped up.
He didn't care, really. There were people coming in here all the time claiming to have some kind of Native American ancestry. His job was just to process them; not validate anything. Besides, he doubted this Rama and her son would be of any trouble. They would probably just sit back here on the reservoir for the rest of their lives and be forgotten from the rest of the world.
He would never live to see how wrong he was.
Stumble!