To Alex, the whole dreamlike sequence was surreal, his brain and physical motions partially paralyzed with fatigue. Then the harsh voice of authority suddenly broke through the moment. “Empty your pockets, sir,” and Alex realized he was being addressed. “Put your change in the dish and try again.”

Alex understood the officer was affecting a New York ironic sense of humor, which he was sure the man didn’t truly feel. Without alarm he was reaching deeply into his overcoat pockets, producing a fistful of coins in one hand and a small plastic bag containing a paperback in the other. The officer was taking the bag, glancing inside, showing it to a colleague, then indicating simultaneously that Alex should place his coins in a tray next to the book. He added his cell phone.

“Extraordinario, este libro,” the second officer seemed to have murmured, so inaudibly that Alex was almost sure he hadn’t spoken at all. He looked up quickly, and for a tiny moment it was as if they were sharing a personal secret. Then all sounds were on alert, a harsh flat beep assaulted the air, and the first officer, stony-faced now, invited Alex to do it all again. Alex returned through the scanner, and was still watching the second officer with a quiet smile, when a flash of awareness made him suddenly produce a fountain pen from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“That’ll be the offender, yes-siree bob.” The main officer had the look of a satisfied FBI agent who has just closed an important, life-threatening case. “I’m afraid we’ll have to relieve you of this, sir.”

A din was erupting around the scanning equipment, other passengers grumbling about the delay. From the most detached perspective, Alex was aware that he was shrugging, not quite apologetically. His mother had given him the pen years ago, when he got a place at Cambridge, and he wasn’t going home without it.

He made eye contact with his interrogator, and somehow smoothed over the rising tension. “I’m very attached to it. Could we ask one of the crew to take it for me, let me collect it at the other end?”

The officer was nonplussed, and inspected Alex’s name engraved on the pen. “That’s highly unconventional, sir. But I consider it a peaceable suggestion. Let’s see what we can do.” He handed the offending item to his colleague, who had been smiling drily and subtly communicating assurances to Alex for a heartbeat. Now he took the detail of his flight to arrange things, and was suddenly giving back the other items, making real contact as he handed Alex the book.

“E muy metafísico, sí?” Alex was wishing his Spanish was stronger, but the officer was delighted to have any answer in his language, and nodded gently. “It’s a long flight, and I’ve seen the films. This will be better company.”