A plaster cast bust depicts a middle-aged man with impressive sideburns. The name on the…

A plaster cast bust depicts a middle-aged man with impressive sideburns. The name on the plinth reads 'Kras Mazov'.

Honestly, he does kind of look like you after all.

"Kim, you have to admit, this Kras Mazov bears a striking resemblance to me."

"Hold on a second... Is this why you broke in here? To find out whether you're Kras Mazov?"

"I have to consider and investigate all possibilities."

"Except that Kras Mazov is dead. He's been dead for 50 years now."

"Just humour me for a moment... Don't you see the resemblance?"

"Well, you both do seem to share an affinity for sideburns. But it seems like old Kras here didn't drink nearly as much as you."

"Yeah -- I have a problem. A problem with alcohol."

"You do -- but that's not the point. The point is, he doesn't look like you."

"Maybe this bust shows him before he started drinking."

"Very well." The lieutenant leans closer to the sculpture. "Let's look for identifying features then..."

He puts a finger on a pale dot embellishing the bust's cheekbone. "Doesn't he have a birthmark right here? What about you?"

"I can't tell -- I can't see my face."

"Alright. But here's the big thing -- Kras Mazov looks Samaran, and you don't."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does. Look at his eyes. Wasn't his mother a Samaran immigrant?"

"You're right, that's something we definitely don't have in common."

"Good, so you're not him."

"I might not look like him, but I know it in my heart -- Kras Mazov, that's me."

The lieutenant closes his eyes. "Okay, you win. Be Kras Mazov then, I don't care..."

He opens his eyes again, tilting his head in a quiet wonder. "Why are you so hell-bent on proving that you're Kras Mazov anyway?"

"Because actually he wanted stability and incremental progress -- and so do I."

"I think you have misunderstood who he was, but..." the lieutenant sighs. "If you say so."

"Because I believe a powerful nation-state is the only way to protect the working class from subhumans."

"Because I'm a communard."

"Alright, Kras. You fought in the Revolution and everything," the lieutenant notes. "If you say so."

"Because he was totally a gangster and a bank robber who went for all the cash in the world. That's me."

"I'm not sure, it's just a feeling I have. But I trust my feelings."

"Alright, Kras," the lieutenant notes. "If you say so."

"You're right, I'm really not."

"It's decided -- you're not the most famous philosopher of the modern period." The lieutenant nods, turning away to inspect the photo on the other wall.

"I'm part Samaran myself."

"I definitely don't have a birthmark on my left cheek."

"Then it's settled," says the lieutenant, straightening his back. "You're not Kras Mazov."

"No, it's not settled -- I might still be Kras Mazov. It's just a birthmark."

"How do you know? The bust is probably just a romanticized depiction anyway."

"You're right, this is silly -- I'm no Kras Mazov."

The lieutenant doesn't even bother to reply to this.

"I'm not saying that I am Kras Mazov, I'm just saying that we look alike."

"Sure you are."

"No, it's purely coincidental."

"Sure it is."

"Father Mazov, the hero of the working class!" (Salute the statue.)

"Whoever lives here definitely shares your enthusiasm." He leans closer to inspect the photos of revolutionaries on the wall.

"There aren't many communists around -- not after the Revolution. Some youths still keep the ideology going, it seems."

"Kras Mazov was a sexual deviant. A zoophile probably."

The lieutenant raises a brow.

"That's right." (Nod.) "Filthy."

"Thank you for sharing this wonderful opinion on human sexuality." He pretends to read the economics book open on the table.

"I hate deviants."

"Kim, who is this Kras Mazov?"

"He's known as the father of scientific communism, also known as Mazovianism. His theories about economic history greatly influenced -- some would even say sparked -- the Antecentennial Revolution."

[Leave.]

"Whoever lives here needs to learn how the economy actually works."

"I suspect that's exactly what they're trying to do." He leans closer to inspect the economics book on the table.

"Kras Mazov was a mass murderer. There's nothing cool about keeping his bust on your night stand."

"He was definitely controversial. The tenant here seems to like him..." He leans closer to inspect the photos of revolutionaries on the wall.

"Why does this tenant have a bust of Kras Mazov in their bedroom?"

"The white star... the photos on the wall... I think we have broken into the apartment of a young communard." He looks around, before mumbling to himself: "How fitting."