"I know. But you seemed preternaturally absorbed with the question of identity, so I thought you were either a spy from customs or a philosopher, and who am I to deny the curiosity of either?"
Benedetto hated the smart-mouthed ones. "What do you want?"
"I find my tax situation is complicated. This is the first time I've had to pay taxes--I just came into a trust fund--and I don't even know what my holdings are. I'd like to have a delay in paying my taxes until I can sort it all out."
"Denied," said Benedetto.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that," said Benedetto.
Andrew sat there for a moment.
"Can I help you with something else?" asked Benedetto.
"Is there any appeal?"
"Yes," said Benedetto. "But you have to pay your taxes before you can appeal."
"I intend to pay my taxes," said Andrew. "It's just going to take me time to do it, and I thought I'd do a better job of it on my own computer in my own apartment rather than on the public computers here in the starport."
"Afraid someone will look over your shoulder?" asked Benedetto. "See how much of an allowance Grandmother left you?"
"It would be nice to have more privacy, yes," said Andrew.
"Permission to leave without payment is denied."
"All right, then, release my liquid funds to me so I can pay to stay here and work on my taxes."
"You had your whole flight to do that."
"My money had always been in a trust fund. I never knew how complicated the holdings were."
"You realize, of course, that if you keep telling me these things, you'll break my heart and I'll run from the room crying," said Benedetto calmly.
The young man sighed. "I'm not sure what you want me to do."
"Pay your taxes like every other citizen."
"I have no way to get to my money until I pay my taxes," said Andrew. "And I have no way to support myself while I figure out my taxes unless you release some funds to me."
"Makes you wish you had thought of this earlier, doesn't it?" said Benedetto.
Andrew looked around the office. "It says on that sign that you'll help me fill out my tax form."
"Yes."
"Help."
"Show me the form."
Andrew looked at him oddly. "How can I show it to you?"
"Bring it up on the computer here." Benedetto turned his computer around on his desk, offering the keyboard side of it to Andrew.
Andrew looked at the blanks in the form displayed above the computer, and typed in his name and his tax I.D. number, then his private I.D. code. Benedetto pointedly looked away while he typed in the code, even though his software was recording each keystroke the young man entered. Once he was gone, Benedetto would have full access to all his records and all his funds. The better to assist him with his taxes, of course.
The display began scrolling.