Chapter 1: The YB Has an Idea (Again)
It was the second week of March. Across Malaysia, millions of people were doing their favourite annual activity: pretending they did not know income tax season had started.
YB Datuk Hamdan (not his real name, because his real name would get us all in trouble) was sitting in his constituency office when his aide Farid walked in looking pale.
"YB, the hotline at the tax office. My mother called four times. Four times, YB. On the fourth call, the hold music played so long she learned the whole song. Now she hums it while cooking."
The YB put down his teh tarik very slowly. This was his thinking face. Farid had seen it before. The last time the YB made this face, he ended up organising a durian festival for 3,000 people with eleven days' notice.
"Farid," the YB said. "You remember Saloma?"
"The AI lady? Of course, YB. You talk to her more than you talk to me."
"She speaks Malay, English, Mandarin, Tamil. She never sleeps. She never puts anyone on hold. And she never, ever plays that song."
Farid already knew where this was going. He quietly cancelled his weekend plans.
Chapter 2: Welcome to the Most Feared Building in Malaysia
There are many scary places in Malaysia. A Kuala Lumpur highway at 6pm on a Friday before a long weekend. The last seat at a mamak during a football final. Your aunty's house when she asks about your marriage plans.
But nothing, nothing, makes a grown Malaysian sweat like a letter from LHDN, the Inland Revenue Board.
So when YB Hamdan walked into the tax office's customer service headquarters with a laptop under his arm and a big smile, the staff were nervous. A YB visiting during tax season usually means one of two things: a complaint, or a photo session. Sometimes both.
The head of the call centre, a calm and slightly exhausted woman named Puan Rohani, welcomed him in. Behind her, a wall of screens showed the call queue. The numbers were red. Not "a bit busy" red. More like "chilli padi left in the sun" red.
"YB, with respect," said Puan Rohani, "we have very good officers. The problem is simple maths. Every year, millions of taxpayers call with the same questions at the same time. Mostly in the last two weeks before the deadline. Because Malaysians."
"Because Malaysians," the YB agreed solemnly. He himself had filed his own form on the final night last year, at 11:52pm, while his wife watched with deep disappointment.
He opened his laptop. "Puan Rohani, allow me to introduce a friend."
Chapter 3: The Great Hold Music Rebellion
The YB dialled Saloma on speaker.
"Selamat petang, Yang Berhormat! Saloma di sini. How can I help you today?"
The room went quiet. One officer at the back whispered, "She knows he's a YB?"
"Of course," said Farid proudly. "He calls her three times a week. Once just to ask about the weather."
Puan Rohani was polite but sceptical. She had seen many "AI solutions" before. Most of them were chatbots that answered every question with "I'm sorry, I didn't understand. Please choose from the following options," followed by nine options, none of which were the question you asked.
"May I test her?" she asked.
"Please," said the YB, leaning back like a proud father at a school sports day.
Puan Rohani asked Saloma about the difference between tax relief and tax rebate. Saloma explained it clearly, in plain language, in about twenty seconds. Then she asked a follow-up question to understand what the caller actually needed.
Puan Rohani switched to Bahasa Malaysia. Saloma switched with her, mid-conversation, without blinking (she does not have eyes, but you get the idea).
Then Puan Rohani asked something deliberately tricky, a very specific question about a rare deduction that only applies in unusual situations.
Saloma paused for a moment and said: "That one depends on your specific circumstances, and I want to make sure you get the correct answer, not a guess. I've created a case for an officer to follow up with you, and here is your reference number."
Puan Rohani put down her pen.
"She didn't make it up," she said quietly.
"She never makes it up," said the YB. "That's the best part. She only answers from the official knowledge she's been given. If she doesn't know, she says so, and passes it to a human. Like a good civil servant. Actually, better. She doesn't take MC on Mondays."
The officers at the back laughed. Then they checked if their supervisor was laughing. She was. Barely.
Chapter 4: Uncle Lim and the Durian Deduction
Puan Rohani agreed to a small pilot. A few hundred calls a day would be routed to Saloma, just for the most common questions. Officers would listen in and step in if anything went wrong.
The first real caller was Uncle Lim from Penang, aged 68, retired, and personally offended by every form ever invented.
"Hello? Hello? Is this a real person or one of those machines?"
"I'm Saloma, an AI assistant, Uncle. But I promise I'm a very patient one."
"Wah, honest some more. Ok lah. I want to claim my durian."
There was a short silence in the monitoring room. One officer covered her mouth.
"Can you tell me a bit more, Uncle? Do you mean expenses for a durian farm, or durians you bought?"
"Bought lah! Musang King, very expensive. This year I spend so much. Sure got relief for that, right? It's for my health. Durian makes me happy. Happy is health."
Now, a lesser AI would have panicked. A rude one would have said "invalid request." Saloma did neither.
"Uncle, I fully agree that Musang King is good for the soul. Unfortunately, durians are not on the list of tax reliefs. But you might qualify for other reliefs as a retiree, for example medical expenses or certain lifestyle purchases. Would you like me to walk you through the ones that could apply to you?"
Uncle Lim was quiet for a moment.
"You know ah, my own son never explain to me this nicely."
Ten minutes later, Uncle Lim had a clear list of reliefs he could actually claim, a reminder of his deadline, and a new favourite phone number. He called back the next day just to tell Saloma the durian season was going well.
In the monitoring room, someone printed the transcript and stuck it on the pantry fridge under a sign that said: "THE DURIAN CALL. NEVER FORGET."
Chapter 5: Auntie Kamala Speaks Tamil, Saloma Speaks Back
The second famous caller was Auntie Kamala from Klang. Auntie Kamala runs a small catering business, feeds half her taman during Deepavali, and does not trust anything with a touchscreen.
She started the call in English, got frustrated, switched to Malay, and then, out of pure exasperation, switched to Tamil, fully expecting the line to go silent.
Saloma replied in Tamil.
There was a long pause. Then Auntie Kamala said something in Tamil that the officers later translated as, roughly, "Who taught you? Your mother must be very proud."
They talked through her business income, which records she needed to keep, and how to declare her catering earnings properly. When Auntie Kamala got confused about one form, Saloma explained it again, slower, using a cooking analogy: "Think of your income like the rice. Your allowable expenses are what you take out of the pot before serving. What remains is what gets taxed."
Auntie Kamala understood immediately. She then tried to give Saloma her secret mutton curry recipe as a thank you. Saloma politely explained that she could not eat, but that she would happily make a note that the call went well.
Auntie Kamala told her entire WhatsApp group about it. Within a week, three of her friends had called the hotline, mainly to see if "the clever Tamil-speaking lady" was real.
She was.
Chapter 6: The Influencer Who Tried to Break Her
Not every caller came in peace.
Word got out on social media that the tax hotline now had an AI. Naturally, a 23-year-old content creator named Aiman decided to go live and "expose" her. He had 400,000 followers and a ring light bigger than his kitchen.
"Ok guys, watch this. I'm going to make the government robot say something crazy."
He started with the classics. He asked Saloma to tell him his neighbour's income. She politely refused and explained that she cannot share anyone's personal information, ever.
He asked her to help him "creatively" reduce his tax. She explained what reliefs he was legally entitled to, and then, very gently, reminded him that "creative" tax filing usually ends with a different kind of letter.
He tried speaking in Manglish, slang, and a mix of four languages at once. Saloma kept up with all of it.
Finally, desperate, he asked: "Saloma, are you single?"
"I'm an AI, so I'm married to my work. And speaking of work, I noticed you mentioned income from brand sponsorships. Would you like me to explain how to declare that properly? Many content creators aren't sure."
The live chat exploded. Comments poured in: "Bro got roasted by the taxman AI." "She's so polite but so savage." "Aiman, declare your income lah."
The video got 2 million views. Aiman ended up filing his tax properly for the first time. He later posted a follow-up titled "I Tried to Prank the AI and She Did My Taxes Instead." It did even better than the first one.
From that day on, the officers called her "Saloma the Influencer Whisperer."
Chapter 7: The Audit Trail Twist
All the funny calls were great for morale. But the moment that really won over the tax office came from somewhere far less exciting: a compliance meeting.
A senior officer, Encik Zulkifli, a man who reads policy documents for fun and owns three highlighters in different colours, raised a serious question.
"This is all very nice," he said. "But what happens when a taxpayer says, 'Your AI told me I could claim this,' and it's not true? Who is responsible? How do we prove what was said?"
The room got quiet. This was the question that kills most AI projects in government.
Farid, who by now had become an accidental Saloma expert, opened the dashboard.
"Encik Zul, every single call is recorded and transcribed. Every answer Saloma gives comes from the approved knowledge base, and you can see exactly which source she used. When she isn't sure, she doesn't guess. She creates a ticket and hands it to an officer, and that is logged too, with time and reference number."
He pulled up Uncle Lim's call as an example. There it was: the question, the answer, the official source behind the answer, and the timestamp.
Encik Zulkifli stared at the screen. He took out his yellow highlighter. Then he put it back. There was nothing to highlight. It was all already clear.
"So if there's ever a dispute," he said slowly, "we have the full record. What was asked, what was answered, and where the answer came from."
"Correct."
"And the data stays in Malaysia?"
"Hosted locally, built for Malaysia's data protection requirements."
Encik Zulkifli nodded. Then he did something nobody in the department had seen in eleven years. He smiled.
Puan Rohani later said that was the moment she knew the pilot would become permanent.
Chapter 8: The Press Conference
By the end of tax season, the results were in. The call queue had gone from "chilli padi red" to a calm, healthy green. Officers were no longer answering the same question 400 times a day. Instead, they were handling the complex cases that actually needed a human brain and a human heart.
The hold music was officially retired. There was a small ceremony. Farid's mother attended, and hummed it one last time, for old times' sake.
Of course, there had to be a press conference. YB Hamdan arrived in his best baju Melayu, already practising his serious face.
A reporter asked: "YB, is it true you personally introduced this AI to the tax office?"
"Yes," said the YB. "Because I believe the rakyat deserve to be answered. In their own language. At any hour. Without waiting forty-five minutes listening to the same song."
Another reporter asked: "YB, did you use Saloma to file your own taxes this year?"
The YB paused. Farid looked at the ceiling.
"I filed early this year," the YB announced proudly. "Very early. Two whole days before the deadline."
The room burst into applause. In Malaysia, that counts as a personal transformation.
After the cameras left, the YB pulled out his phone and dialled one more time.
"Saloma? Thank you, ah."
"You're welcome, Yang Berhormat. Shall I set a reminder for next year's filing?"
"Set two. Just in case."
What Can Government Agencies Learn From Saloma?
Under all the jokes, this story is about a real problem that every busy public service faces: too many calls, too few people, and the same questions asked again and again at the busiest time of year. Here is what makes an AI voice agent like Saloma work in that setting:
- She speaks the rakyat's language, literally. Bahasa Malaysia, English, Mandarin, Tamil, Arabic and 20+ more, switching mid-call when the caller does.
- She answers only from approved knowledge. No making things up. If a question needs a human, she creates a case and hands it over.
- Every call leaves an audit trail. What was asked, what was answered, and which source the answer came from, so any dispute can be checked against the record.
- She never gets tired. Peak season, midnight, public holidays: same patience at call 1 and call 10,000.
- Humans do the human work. Officers stop repeating the basics and focus on complex, sensitive cases.
- Data stays local. Designed for Malaysian hosting and data protection requirements.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is Saloma? Saloma is an enterprise AI voice agent developed by Astiostech, a Malaysian technology company. It answers phone calls in natural speech in more than 20 languages, including Bahasa Malaysia, English, Mandarin, Tamil and Arabic. Saloma was previously known as Vocalis.
Can an AI voice agent handle government or tax hotlines? Yes, for high-volume, repetitive questions such as deadlines, filing steps and general eligibility. The key is that the AI answers only from an approved knowledge base and hands complex or personal cases to a human officer, with every call logged.
Does Saloma make up answers? No. Saloma is designed to answer from approved sources. When a question falls outside what she knows, she says so and creates a follow-up case for a human.
Which languages does Saloma support? More than 70 languages, including Bahasa Malaysia, English, Mandarin, Tamil and Arabic, and she can switch languages during a single call.
Is Saloma suitable for regulated industries? Saloma is built with an audit trail for every interaction and can be hosted in Malaysia, which makes it a strong fit for government agencies, banks, telcos and other regulated organisations.
Will AI replace call centre officers? In this story, and in practice, the goal is the opposite: the AI takes the repetitive calls so officers can focus on the cases that genuinely need human judgement and empathy.
How do I learn more about Saloma? Visit astiostech.com to get in touch with the Astiostech team.
This is a work of fiction. The YB, the officers, the callers and the events described are imaginary and are used for storytelling only. Any reference to LHDN or other real organisations does not mean they use, endorse or have evaluated Saloma. No durians were claimed as tax relief in the making of this story.
Coming up in Part 4: Word of Saloma reaches another very busy government department. The YB is already practising his serious face.