Prologue
In seventy years so little has changed. Then, the gate was taller than the tallest person, electrified, eager to shock to the death. Looming over the fence were eight high-standing towers with armed guards with submachine guns who looked down upon the people as though they could be, should be shot for amusement’s sake. They were at one with the enemy across the Pacific Ocean, many decided. They had to be. They were traitors. They were spies. How else can we separate the good ones from the bad ones? How else can we know the loyal ones from the conspirators? We must round them up like cattle and pen them here where they’re safe from us and us from them.
Above the barracks, higher than the gates, beyond the guard towers, were the mountains. Always the mountains. They encompassed ev
