The line proceeded slowly and fitfully, like an engorged centipede that’s been tortured by a selfish five-year-old. Gray people in gray suits filed past the officials in their hard, imposing field armor. Designed to impress.

One man sat fingering his briefcase as he wandered through the rope-lined maze. He had waited patiently for days for today to come – not that today was out of the ordinary for most people – at least, not yet.

The man drew up to the guard on the left, an imperious looking individual with greasy hair and a sneering expression. He handed his pass to the guard with a gloved hand.

“Clear.”

The man passed through and disposed of his gloves in the nearest trashcan. The next few people in line stepped from side to side, anxious to get this over with.

Three minutes after the man left the building, the guard collapsed, choking for air.