A World Without Taxes

In early Fall, Death strode down the middle of an empty street in the heart of a once-thriving metropolis. The city had once been crowded—full of people with hopes and dreams, all determined to achieve them. You could hardly go down a sidewalk without bumping into someone else or brushing past them.

As such, Death normally avoided cities, unless it was absolutely necessary for him to travel through them. When he did, Death took the utmost care to avoid the people. After all, no one wanted an accidental brush with Death. And as much as it might seem to not be the case, Death never wanted to claim anyone before he was supposed to.

Now, though, Death strode down the middle of the street without a care in the world because the street was utterly empty. There wasn’t a living thing in sight. Death hadn’t seen anyone or anything since he first stepped foot in the city. It appeared to be abandoned—and with good reason.

The city looked as though at least one natural disaster had ripped its way through its streets—or maybe three or four disasters all at once. On one side of the street, half of the buildings were ablaze. On the other side, half of them were drenched in water. The street itself was in shambles.

The once-smooth sidewalks were now cracked and rough. Huge chunks of the paved streets were ripped up and scattered about—as if pulled up and hurled across the street by some terrible beast. Death had to navigate around them carefully. The very earth itself had shifted as if disrupted by an earthquake, and travel was now nearly impossible.

Farther down the street, Death saw an arc of water spraying into the air from a fire hydrant that had burst—drenching the buildings and flooding the sidewalks. Ironically, the renegade stream of water fell short of the fires that raged just on the other side of the street, burning their way through buildings of wood, brick, stone, and steel. The fires had been raging for days on end already. Smoke billowed in acrid clouds from the burning rooftops, like distress signals, but no one came to put them out.

Death didn’t seem to be concerned that he now strode through the midst of all this chaos and destruction. What could fire or water or even an earthquake do to him? He was, after all, Death. He didn’t feel the heat from the flames, nor the cold spray from the fire hydrant on his face. He felt nothing.

Well, that wasn’t actually true. As he walked through the devastated streets of the city, Death felt something he had never felt before—guilt. Death couldn’t recall ever feeling guilty about anything in all of his long years of existence. But he did now because even indirectly, the chaos and destruction the city and its citizens had experienced were because of him.

Death had never been the cause of anything before. He was usually a reaction to some other Entity—like War, Disaster, or Famine. He never influenced catastrophic events himself. He always arrived after.

That all changed several months ago when Death had walked into a tavern to meet with an old acquaintance—Taxes. The fool had reached out to him for advice, and then had reached out quite literally, forgetting the one cardinal rule in dealing with Death: Don’t Touch.

As a result, Taxes perished. The unforeseen ramifications were devastating. The fallout from his death was a world without Taxes. At first, it seemed to be a good thing. As terrible as it was, no one could honestly say they mourned his passing. Except, perhaps, those wise individuals with foresight, or those with a love of paying taxes—if such a person ever existed.

It didn’t take the world long to fall apart. Around three weeks’ time, by Death’s reckoning. The tenuously built structure of society collapsed like a poorly made house of cards. Without good order in society, the world turned to Chaos and Anarchy—which was good for them, but bad for just about everybody else.

Without Taxes, the governments of the world had no way of paying the dedicated civil servants who once kept cities and society in good order. Fires burned their way through cities, buildings and streets fell into disrepair, and criminals and other vagrants did as they pleased. In short, society devolved. Many once-thriving cities were now like the one Death walked through—abandoned. Their citizens had either fallen with their buildings or fled in search of safety. If such a place could still be found.

It should be noted that some still cared about society and fought to uphold its values and morals—despite the absence of a paycheck—but such individuals were few and far between. That was a shock to a great many philosophers—who believed mankind to be generally good and capable of living in a utopia-like society—and had them rethinking their ideas on morality and the necessity of government.

Death was running ragged. He had always been busy of course, but never on this massive a scale. He never took pleasure in his work—he hadn’t liked it, but it was necessary—but he still did it all these years. It was his job, after all.

Now, he was beginning to dread it because more and more despairing people were seeking him out. That wasn’t right. People were supposed to avoid him like the Plague. Death had worked with him before—nasty fellow. Always coughing and sneezing without covering his nose and mouth.

If someone saw Death coming down the street, they’d look the other way and hope he wouldn’t notice them. Most of the time, Death would play along and pretend he hadn’t, politely ignoring them because it wasn’t their time to meet with him yet. That wasn’t the case these days.

He knew he was to blame for the natural order of things being turned upside-down. He had no idea of how to fix his mistake and turn the world right-side-up again, so Death was avoiding people. He wasn’t neglecting his work so much as he was postponing it. Technically, he was on vacation. He’d racked up quite a few personal days—having never taken one before in all of his existence. But sooner or later, he’d have to go back to work.

For now, Death wandered through the devastated, once-thriving metropolis and did his best to continue avoiding people. After a time, he came to a dried-up fountain that had once been filled with water and coins spent on wishes. The water was gone—as were the coins. Death wondered idly what had happened to the wishes. Those had probably been stolen too.

Death sat down on the fountain’s edge and put his head in his hands. He was exhausted. Death didn’t sleep—he didn’t need it. But he felt overwhelmed and stretched thin all the same. How was that even possible?

“There you are, Death. I thought I might find you here.”

A soft, friendly voice broke into his thoughts. Death recognized the voice. Of course, she was here. Even when Death tried to avoid everybody—he couldn’t even manage to do that. Even in the unlikeliest of places, she somehow always found a way to exist.

Death looked up from his hands. Next to him on the fountain’s edge sat a young woman with fair features. Her hair flowed around her shoulders as if tossed by the wind. She wore a plain white dress. Her eyes held such warmth and light; a smile danced across her face. She was such a contrast to him—she was everything he was not.

“Long time since I’ve seen you, Life,” Death said dryly. “You’re looking vibrant, as usual.”

Life laughed pleasantly. She was probably one of the few who could genuinely laugh at Death without fear of him. Death found he didn’t mind.

“Charming as always—I’ve been looking for you, Death.”

“Have you come to blame me for the sorry state of the world around us?”

Life frowned. “Why would I blame you?”

“It’s my fault that all of this is happening,” Death told her, gesturing at the broken city around them.

“No, it isn’t.”

Death laughed bitterly. “Of course it is. What we’re looking at now—take it in—this is what a world without Taxes looks like. Taxes died because of me.” He smiled grimly. “Ergo, I’m to blame for all of this.”

Life studied her counterpart for a moment. Then she looked at their surroundings. “Things like this—as terrible as they are—happen all the time, Death. You know that. They happened before Taxes came into existence, they happened during his time here, and it’s no surprise to me that they’re still happening now in a world without him.”

“How can things ever go back to the way they were?” Death asked helplessly. “The world’s broken, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Things won’t go back to the way they were,” Life said simply. “Taxes no longer exists, and that means things can’t go back to the way they were before. Yes, the world is broken, but we’re still here. Besides, the world was broken long before Taxes died. People don’t need an excuse to be terrible to each other, but they’ll try to find one because it makes them feel better about their own brokenness.”

Life hopped off the edge of the fountain and knelt on the broken earth. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an acorn seed. She planted it in the ground and covered it with dirt. As she did so, she murmured, “Last I checked, it isn’t your job to fix the world, Death.”

“Then whose job is it?” Death asked irritably.

“Entities like Hope, Morality, Kindness, and Love—to name a few,” Life smiled, still focused on her task at hand.

Death folded his arms across his chest and looked around at the burning city, unimpressed. “They’re doing a real fine job of it.”

“That’s not right, and you know it, Death,” chided Life gently. She hopped back up on the fountain’s edge next to him. “We influence the people and world around us—we don’t force them. That isn’t how we operate.”

Death closed his eyes painfully. He knew all that. “Where are they in all of this, then?” he asked tightly.

Life shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she said. “With all of this destruction and devastation, people have lost sight of them. Many people think they’ve abandoned the world—but that’s not true. They still exist. They’re still here.”

“How do you know that?” Death asked.

Life thought about it for a moment and then answered. “I know they’re still here because I’m still here.”

She looked over at him. “You know, you asked why I was looking for you. I never gave you an answer. I was looking for you because everybody needs to be reminded of the importance of their existence from time to time—even you, Death. They’re still here, and so are you. Let them do what they’re supposed to do. You have your own job to do—so do it.”

Life smiled at Death and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. Life was one of the few who could break that cardinal rule of his. She had existed before him, and nothing he could do would ever change that.

“Don’t forget,” Life whispered to him. “They still exist. Everywhere I am, they are too.”

Death’s eyes opened wide. He looked away from her for a moment. When he looked back, Life had left him—gone where else she was needed. She had left that single acorn seed planted in the ground. As Death watched, it began to sprout amid the destruction and devastation in the heart of the city.

Death smiled as he observed it. Life had returned. And others came with her. Then he rose to his feet and began to walk out of the once-abandoned city. He had work to do. He’d put it off long enough.

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