The machines clanked and swished, rumbling through on their morning cleaning routine. People, on their way to the work assignments for the day, followed dutifully behind the mechanical janitors, staying within the boundaries of the newly polished and scrubbed pathway. The accumulated rubbish, mostly ash from the constant plumes from the incinerators, remained untouched, a fine layer of gray snow to mark the areas of safety from the unknown. If not for the single track of footprints, the untouched places might not have existed in the minds of the workers at all. I counted on their ignorance, their blindness to my deviance, for I did not travel in the prescribed places. My journey this day will take me to many such banned destinations.