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asked Nathan, his voice quiet and tense.
    “They’re checking identification.”
    “They’re what?! Sam…I don’t have any…I mean, I had it removed two years ago!”
    He brandished his right wrist, showing the tell-tale scar where once there had been a subcut chip.
    “That’s okay.” Sam reached forward and popped open the glove compartment. “There’s a box in there. It’ll be near the back.”
    Nathan rummaged around and finally produced a small cardboard box. Sam watched as he opened it.
    “Holy…where did you get these? They’re really good!”
    “There should be a reader in there too. It’s about three inches by two. Kind of silvery…”
    Nathan found the reader and opened it.
    “You just put a chip into that slot, enter the data and there you go.”
    “How do you attach—”
    “There’s some tape thingies. In a bag, under your seat. Left hand side, I think. Just pick one that matches your skin tone.”
    “Sam…”
    “Quick, get on with it—they’re coming!”
    Nathan entered his data, slapped on the chip and passed the kit to Sam who prepared his own, placed it and shoved the bag and boxes under his seat just as the two border guards strolled up to the car. He rolled down the window and smiled.
    “’Afternoon, boys,” said the first guard genially. “What brings you to Century City?”
    “The usual,” said Sam. “Shopping…the beach.”
    “Sorry, son, the beach is forbidden. Toxic for the last twenty years. Surprised you hadn’t heard. Where are you from?”
    “Wisconsin,” said Sam, cheerily. “It’s quite a ways from the ocean. I’ve heard stories, though. Always wanted to see it.”
    “Well, you could try driving north. I think there’s some non-toxic sand up by Gualala.”
    “Nah,” the second guard shook his head. “That got shut down last year. He should try south. You should try south, son.”
    “South?” the first guard looked dubious. “You mean San Diego? There’s nothing down—”
    “No, south . You know, like Mexico. Baja, maybe.”
    Sam noticed that Nathan was getting edgy again, shifting in his seat and glaring at the guards. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how his friend had managed to survive up to now. Security checks of one sort or another were pretty much par for the course in all but the smallest settlements and acting nervous or shifty was a sure way to set off alarm bells and find yourself denied entry…or worse. Fortunately, these particular guards seemed more interested in being affable.
    “Baja, yes, now that’s a possibility,” said the first border guard, turning back to Sam. “Don’t take any chances, though, son. It’s a long way. I’d suggest you check Mutha for details.”
    “I’ll do that. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
    “Not at all. Contrary what many people think, we’re here to help. Uh…you weren’t planning on going into the city proper, were you?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “Sorry. City population is strictly controlled. There’s a waiting list, but it’s about a three year wait.”
    “Minimum,” said the other guard.
    Sam looked at the guards and then at Nathan.
    “What?” whispered Nathan, between clenched teeth.
    Sam flashed him a smile and turned back to the guards.
    “We only want to go in for a couple of days. Are you sure that isn’t possible?”
    “Quite sure.”
    “It must get boring being posted out here.”
    “We manage.”
    “It’s a tough job and my friend and I really appreciate the work you do keeping the city safe.”
    “Yeah? How much do you appreciate it?”
    “Is it okay if I get out?”
    “Sure,” said the first guard, taking a step back.
    Sam unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and walked to the back of the car.
    “We appreciate it about this much,” he said, popping the trunk. “Help yourselves to anything you want.”
    The two border guards ran to the back of the car like kids on Christmas Day. Sam left them to it and got back in.
    “Sam!