[ WP ] The year is 2213 . You 've been illegally picked up in the latest sweep by corporate police on the grounds that you 're a debtor . They have no idea who they 'd just grabbed and thrown in the back of the bus with a simple ziptie around your wrists .

Well of course they did n't know who they were dealing with. How could they? They were given a name and a rap sheet. They went to the provided address and snatched the guy who's face matched the light scan on their HUD. They mag-tied my hands together and shunted me into the back of the paddy wagon. They had no idea what they'd done. 
 
 They'd taken me away from cooking dinner for my wife. I'm no great chef, but I do make good fajitas. Rachel loves them, even if they're a little too spicy for her IBS. Now, instead of delicious chicken breast sauteed with Jalapenos and Bell Peppers, she's gon na come home to a house full of eye-searing pepper smoke and a pot full of charred dreams. 
 
 We were just behind a couple of months on my student loans, and we only owed about eight grand. It's not fair. I should n't be here, tied up in the back of this van. I should n't have been taken from the quiet of my home just because my employer went out of business in the last economic flop, leaving me scrambling to make up the income while my wife took up extra shifts at her waitressing gig. 
 
 My fellow prisoners and I share a look. We know this is n't a formal arrest, and we know we wo n't be booked anywhere. We'll just have vanished. Very likely some of these same uniformed thugs will take our descriptions and smirk as they file them in missing persons folders. 
 
 My joints stiffen as the van rolls on into an indeterminate future.
