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LucianChapter 9
Why do we still think airports are places of glamour? Why not call them the meat-packing factories they are, pushing long sausages of passengers’ flesh through portals and detector gates? Tourists, businessmen, and all kinds of other travelers milled around the halls and corridors of Washington’s Dulles International Airport, spreading sweat and heat and noise and agitation. But the tall and slender silver-haired creature at the center of this swirling circus didn’t seem to notice. Aloof...