The technician wears a Joan of Arc haircut. She says, “Just do what the machine says.” The machine is a tube with rotating lights. I’m lying on my back inside it, pants down around my ankles. Even if I could find a pretty accomplice to escape over the border with me, the border has probably already been unpinned, repositioned, and pinned again. The machine says, “Breathe in and hold your breath.” There’s a menacing buzz, followed by a burst of light, and then the machine says, “Breathe.” I have the same questions everyone else must have: can funeral expenses be claimed on taxes? Is this real? How do you say “fellatio” in French?