Papers Please

• Thai Cao, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

It’s November 19, 1962. People are dying of starvation and hypothermia. I am Niko Bellic, and this is how I spent the rest of my life saying “Papers Please.”

I pull off the rugged blanket and feel the frigid winter air press against my skin. I look at the faces of my wife and daughter, sleeping together on an old mattress, clinging onto whatever heat is left. I put on my jacket and head out to the mailbox to grab the newspaper. An envelope with the crest of the Russian government suddenly falls out. I study the front page of the newspaper, and see that the headline reads “Arztoska Opens Immigrant Missionary!”
“Arztoska! Why there!” I gasp.
Without hesitation I rip open the envelope and quickly read through the letter. It read:
“Dear Niko Bellic,
We are happy to inform you that the Russian Government has assigned you as Immigrant Inspector at our missionary in Arztoska. Military officers will be coming to escort you and your family. Once there, your family will be given a small house to rent and live in.
Glory to Arztoska!
Mikhail Faultine”

I tell my family my news and we begin to pack and load our things into the jeep.

Once there, the driver steps out and carries our things over to the missionary. Guards check our ID’s and slowly the gates open. The lights above the missionary blind us momentarily. Officers then escort us to our new home. It’s now 10:35pm; we unpack and fall asleep. An officer tells me that I have to wake early for the first shift.

An officer bangs on my door and accompanies me into the chilly morning air. He points towards the booth marked “A” and then disappears. I step into the booth and I put a on a coat.

As the gates open to allow the immigrants to the checkpoint I quickly examine my booth; a clock and a declined and approved stamp. I look out the booth window and see the immigrants. I’m afraid but I am doing this for my family and that’s all I care about. I begin my shift.
“Next!” I yell.
The first immigrant stumbles up to the booth.
“Papers Please?” I ask.
He hands over his passport. I check the important details everything seems okay, so I grab the ‘Approved’ stamp and stamp his passport. I slide the passport back and allow him through. As I do this, he looks at me happily.



It is now 3pm and my shift is almost over. This time a darker man shows up.
“Papers Please?”
But instead of handing over a passport, he says:
“It was a mistake opening up this checkpoint.”
I wonder what this means, then I am brought into reality as I see a gun aimed at me. He fires but I don’t feel any shots. The booth was bulletproof! He gives a forceful grunt, and starts shooting the officers. Two officers now dead, but it wasn’t long until he was shot down.

I was almost killed! My heart is beating faster than ever. I enter the house filled with shock and quickly head to sleep.

The next day arrives and I head back out. They have assured me complete protection from now on. I step into my booth, ready to start a new day.

I have had this job for 6 months now, earning money to pay for rent and food. Life seems a lot better than it was living in a tin can. Since then, I have not faced a single problem. Just “Papers Please”.