“Attention all students,” comes the voice over the loudspeaker. “We apologize for the disruption, but an empty water bottle has been found in the trash. We request that everyone follows the normal procedures.” At this, most students roll their eyes, and some laugh. Everyone begins to talk as we prepare to leave; I go along with the others, talking and laughing just as loudly, but inwardly, my heart pounds. I taste the bitter tang of fear as we crowd through the doorway.

Out in the hall, the machines have already been set up. It is a simple process; your thumb is scanned, and if your print matches the one on the empty bottle, well, the culprit has been found.

I am jostled along in the masses of high school students. Suddenly, I realize the machines are looming just ahead of me; my turn is next. A stone-faced policeman stands, waiting for the matching thumb to be found. I straighten my back and let my feet carry me forward. Staring straight ahead, I slowly place my thumb down onto the machine. A green light flashes. The match has been made.

“Come with me, son,” the officer commands. I feel the cold metal slip over my wrists and tighten. “You’re under arrest,” I am coldly informed. As the policeman marches me down the now-empty hallway, I think. I wonder what it is that our country has come to, when the government passes laws that sanction the arrest of a high school student, simply because he threw his empty plastic water bottle into the trash, instead of recycling it.

Silence reigns in the halls. Students are back to their pre-calculus and literature books. Now the door at the end of the hallway opens. For a few seconds, I taste the sweet air of freedom. But all too soon, I feel rough hands on my shoulders, shoving me into the back seat of a blue and white car. The door slams shut behind me. I shudder. Life, as I had known it, was ended.