Alice rose early from cloying dreams full of grinding machines, and drove to Rikers Island in a blur of attitude and police sirens. The warden was a twiggy woman in a faded suit with gray hair pulled into a tight bun. Her office was a mess, every corner crammed with drawers overflowing with loose paper. A faded Mars Is the Future poster was taped to the far wall while the air smelled of dust, coffee, and tobacco. In the background, a PA coughed names and times on an endless rotation. The warden leaned back in her chair and sparked a cigarette, the blue-gray smoke rolling upward into a rattling air grille. She saw Alice’s expression and offered the pack. "Want one?"