Pretty soon all of us will be issued with hand scanners. That way when we met another person, whether we know them or not we can scan their ID cards. That way we will know whether to smile, frown, grimace, talk, walk away, laugh, shake their hand, give them a kiss, have a coffee with them, invite them over to your house, do business with them, have sex, go to a football game, have drinks or dinner together. I'm glad that our lives are getting so organized for us, because I would have to hate to make my own decisions concerning my own life.

The thoughts of a prisoner—they're not free either. They kept returning to the same things. A single idea keeps stirring. Would they feel that piece of bread in the mattress? Would he have any luck in the dispensary that evening? Would they out Buinovsky in the cells? And how did Tsezar get his hands on that warm vest?