Hackworth walked across the parking lot toward the McDonald's, followed at 
a respectful distance by one of the soldiers. Another soldier opened the door 
for him, and Hackworth sighed with delight as cold dry air flowed over his face 
and began to chase the muggy stuff through the weave of his clothing. The place 
had been lightly sacked. He could smell a cold, almost clinical greasy smell 
wafting from behind the counter, where containers of fat had spilled onto the 
floor and congealed like snow. Much of this had been scooped up by looters; 
Hackworth could see the parallel tracks of women's fingers. The place was 
decorated in a Silk Road motif, transpicuous mediatronic panels portraying 
wondrous sights between here and the route's ancient terminus in Cadiz.