The next morning, 9009 was awakened by a rude hand and taken to the yard captain’s office to be booked. A keen-eyed, iron-gray man met him there and, after stripping him, scanned his bare body inch by inch for scars.
He examined first the face of 9009, passing his eyes slowly and mercilessly over each feature, exploring every fold and pit of skin; then, with the same passionless, peering scrutiny, like that of an old woman examining a piece of meat at the market, he searched the arms, the hands, the naked torso, and finally the feet. At times he stopped and marked down the result of his observation into a little note-book. When he was through, he had not spoken a word; he had not seen the man.
Having slipped on his garments again, 9009 stood a moment awkwardly in the, centre of the room, not knowing what was expected of him,
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