"I'm no anarchist. I'm a data entry clerk."

"There's a fine line between individuality and anarchy, I'm afraid. The question is, which side of the line are you on?" She paused. "Do you know how many individuals live on this station, George?"

He shook his head. "Lots."

"297 million and change. I could tell you exactly, but the daily figures change depending on off-station transfers and the number of births and deaths. That's a lot of people housed and fed in 10,000 cubic kilometers, don't you think?"

"I guess."

She nodded. Her voice rippled as she warmed to the topic. "Population density is incredible. But life is better here than on many stations, which is why they all stay. Just another lesson in basic civics, you might say. Rules allow us to maintain a level of personal space in a crowded society so that we keep at least some sense of individual identity. But the more people we have, the more rules we need to maintain the proper balance between the individual and the society. You follow so far?"

She spun an irritated grimace toward the door as it hissed open. Another security force officer stood in the doorway, this one a pale skeleton in another spotless uniform. He droned, "They caught him, Investigator. Sector 91."

"Excellent." She gave George a satisfied smile as the skeleton disappeared. "It seems anarchists come in all shapes and sizes these days. A self-help guru in the upper pavilions just couldn't keep his hands off the intoxicants. Used a public fountain as a urinal. Would you like to see the broadcast?"

His stomach lurched. "Not really."

"Viewing deportations is optional, I know. But I've got a personal stake in this one. You see, I live near that fountain." She touched the pad, and the floor suddenly filled with a miniature replica of the deportation bays. The tiny white-clad technicians readied the pod while a group of security officers hauled in the accused. George forced himself not to close his eyes. He had watched the ceremony before, and he could do it again.

The techs fed the limp body of the offender into the pod as Harlin narrated. She said, "Space, George. There's lots of it outside, but it's a luxury we don't just have. So if people can't remember the rules, they can go enjoy a bit more room to do their own thing. And leave the rest of us alone."